the art of moving on. | jungkook

000 | graveyard shift.

                                        MAY 07, 2017 

                                                         『if you were born with the weakness to fall,

                                                                    you were born with the strength to rise 』

FRESH FLOWERS HAD BLOSSOMED. Warm honey hues and plum petals. Moonlight kissed their stems and Ji-yeong dug her toes into the damp dirt. Freckles of outside coated her bare feet. Blades of grass, spots of brown. She inhaled the sweet air, feeling almost whole. The garden had always been her place for comfort. Memories of her and Hyo-rin hid between the cracks of the stone path, laid painted under the rusting gate. The familiar aroma alone birthed warmth in her chest.

       Ji-yeong sighed. 26 months. It was hard to believe blood still pumped through her veins after her sister's had run cold, that oxygen still swelled in her lungs even after Hyo-rin's last breath. Hard for both her heart and her head to process. She searched for Hyo-rin in everything. She began styling her hair the same way, wearing Hyo-rin's clothes, caking on the dark make-up her sister had been so fond of. Mirrors were the only place she could see Hyo-rin's face with her cheeks still rosy pink.

       Identical. She had once resented having to share a face. Especially with Hyo-rin, who stole the show before Ji-yeong even knew any of the acts. The two were polar opposites. One dolled up in pink, perfect attendance, well-behaved. The other decked out in ripped jeans, chunky eyeliner, and attitude. Hyo-rin demanded attention wherever she went. Called for it with each step she took. And more often than not, her call was hastily answered. Any calls Ji-yeong made for the spotlight were forwarded to voicemail. Please try again later.

       However all sibling rivalry subsided once Ji-yeong too became enraptured by Hyo-rin's light. Even she couldn't resist her own twin's charm. No amount of jealousy or envy could overpower the pull of Hyo-rin. In fact, she didn't know a single person who could resist Hyo-rin's charm. It was no wonder why the unspoken words hung in the air. Often in her own home, caged behind her father's yellowed teeth.

       Why couldn't Ji-yeong have died instead?

       Ji-yeong had often found herself asking the same question to the midnight sky, though her cries fell on deaf ears. The stars offered her solace. Welcomed her pain as their own. It was there, entangled in their lights, she had found her answer. Ji-yeong cast her eyes to the moon. Wisps of her golden-brown hair caressed her face as a slight wind rustled through the garden.

       She had died. The moment the bullet struck her twin's chest, her heart had withered. Shriveled into dust as the rest of her bones caved in. Whoever Ji-yeong had been was lost. Laid to rest in her sister's casket. All that remained was a body unsure where to walk without Hyo-rin's guidance.

       Same face. Same phone. Even going as far as to take her sister's old number.

       Ji-yeong was drowning. Sinking further and further while her family watched behind glass. Ready for the final memory of Hyo-rin to join her in the dirt. And Ji-yeong was ready too. Her fingers tightened around smooth metal. She wasn't like Hyo-rin. She'd never trailed after Daddy, toting a gun and running the streets as if it was her birthright. No. She'd never learned how to be a killer.

       But she certainly knew how to pull a trigger.

A U T H O R ' S      N O T E 

once upon a time i wrote a jungkook fanfiction titled The Art Of Moving On. even though no one probably remembers original, this is eighteen year old me's version instead of fifteen year old me's. lots of love. jailynn.