fallen angel | yoonmin

i. under the cherry tree

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Jimin has spent his afternoons under the cherry tree in his grandmother's backyard since he first found it. He remembers it, a beautiful yet fleeting moment within his life. He was seven, maybe, young and hopelessly carefree. His grandfather had been alive, sitting relaxed on a bench beneath the cherry tree, which was knarled and ancient as he was.

He remembers running down the hill early April, yelling, "Grandpa, grandpa!" In his hand was a certificate, one that he had gotten for performing so well at his dance recital just the week before. "Grandpa, look what I have!"

His grandfather always smoked from a little wooden pipe. Looking back, it explained why he always coughed, and then passed so early. He smiled in surprise, scooping up the young boy and setting him on his good knee. "Jimin," he says, surprised. "I didn't know you were coming! Is Jihyun here too?"

Young Jimin nodded. "Jihyun is helping grandma wash the oranges! But that doesn't matter, look," he said, nudging the certificate into his grandfather's old hands. "I performed at the top of the class!" he said proudly. His grandfather nods, flipping the certificate over.

"You never fail to impress me, Jimin-ah," his grandfather said fondly. "Keep up your work and you'll be famous one day. The best dancer in all of Korea." Young Jimin laughs.

"Why stop there? I could be the best dancer in the whole world."

A cherry blossom danced down through the air, slicing through the smoke from his grandfather's pipe. His grandfather pinches it from the air with his other hand. "You could," he told Jimin. "I have no doubt about it." Jimin smiled.

It's the best memory he has of his grandfather.

He died the following year, but Jimin continued to visit the tree. So much so that he visited his grandmother's home every break he was given, just so he could sit under the tree's branches.

When he was there, he could feel his grandfather's presence.

Sometimes, he would even talk.

Either way, it was his place.

Nowadays, Jimin was far from the child he once was. Sure, he continued his dance, but he was far from famous. He didn't mind it, though. Truly, he preferred a quiet life. One with little change, everything consistent.

No surprises.

He wishes he could call himself adventurous or spontaneous, but the biggest thing he had truly ever done was literally from a week ago, and it wasn't even his choice. Dyeing his hair a shocking pink had been all Hoseok's idea.

But Hoseok was his best friend and there was no way he could chicken out.

Ironically, it was growing on him. It resembled the cherry blossoms that were beginning to bloom, pale pink and soft. He felt connected to the tree and as strange as it was, it was a good thing.

Some days, if he were truly honest, he wished for change. But it was only when he was under the blankets and the light from his dimmed lamp at the late hours beyond midnight when his brain was beyond clouded with exhaustion, that he would admit it.

He doesn't think in the moment how careful he should be, wishing in the dark.

It's late March when it happens. Jimin had just left college for spring break, and he feels a strange feeling in his gut as he leaves his and Hoseok's apartment with a suitcase and drives back to his grandmother's.

She's like most grandmothers- short, wrinkly, extremely nosy and extra loving.

"Oh, Jimin, coming to visit your grandmother or the tree?" she asks teasingly when he arrives, and he leans down into the hug she gives him.