A Window to the Past | Jikook ♥

Chapter 1

His parents were arguing. Again. Or more like just his father throwing insults and screaming at the top of his lungs. Like everyday when he would get home late and drunk. And sadly when he was drunk he got nasty.

And violent.

Eight-year-old Jimin moved softly under the cover of his bed, trying to block out his father's insults and his mother's terrified cries. But it was okay, he was used to it by now. He was used to the daily fights and the sounds of objects smashing against the walls of their house.

Though it hadn't always been like this. They used to be happy. Kind of. He used to have a normal childhood with parents who actually cared about him. But slowly his parents had grew distant from each other. His mother withdrawn and his father violent and careless. But he was okay, it was between his parents after all.

He was trying to not care.

Trying.

"SHUT UP!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" Roared his father, making Jimin jump slightly out of fear, his heart beating faster.

As always when he wanted to block out the late night screams of his parents, he reached under his bed to find the little radio post his grandmother had given him for his birthday. The red radio was all shabby and vintage but it was enough. The little boy then moved back under his covers with the object in his tiny, chubby hands. He searched eagerly for his favorite radio station, turning the button slowly as his mother muffled sobs echoed in the tiny house. He finally found the soothing melody of creaking violins and immediately recognized Winter by Antonio Vivaldi. The eight-year-old boy had grown to deeply love classical music after all those hours listening to sweet piano recitals, and always ended up falling asleep to its music. As the symphony grew in crescendo, he felt as if he was floating in the air, much like the crystal notes of the solo violin. He pictured himself dancing and twirling gracefully to the melody and, as he danced in his mind, moves as sharp and precise as the orchestra's notes were, he softly and calmly slipped into a peaceful slumber. The little boy's lids slowly closed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

As the melody died, Jimin's mother cut her wrists open.

"I'm sorry..."

★★★

Jimin woke up with a jump in his bed, heart beating fast and breath laboured. He suddenly realized that he was now in BTS's dorm in Seoul, Hoseok hyung sleeping at the other side of their shared room. He tucked his head between his knees and tried to calm his breathing down, inhaling sharply.

It's okay. You're fine. You're safe. He said to himself, not really believing it.

It was just a dream, or more like a memory. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to supress the horrifying picture of his mother's wrists oozing blood.

"Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking."

" Stop." He whispered angrily to himself as a mantra supposed to calm his racing heart. Jimin shakily got up from his now dishevelled bed, legs feeling wobbly. As he crossed the room he was careful to not wake up Hoseok who seemed to sleep peacefully while drooling on his pillow. He opened quietly the door of their room with shaking hands.

Air. I just need some air. Jimin said to himself as he crossed the messy living room of their dorm. He opened the balcony door, sit on the nearest chair, and took a deep breath of the night breeze. The boy could now relax as the cold of the night froze slowly his limbs. After a little while, he finally didn't felt like his heart was beating painfully fast against his ribcage anymore and thus he let himself get lost on the welcomed numbness that took over his whole body. He looked upon the balcony, taking the sight of the high buildings of Seoul shining in the (because of the lights) not so dark night.