Flatline ─ Jimin

1 ∘ Boy Meets Girl

chapter one.
❝ 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻,
𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲. ❞

∘◦ ❉ ◦∘

          One thing about humans that were frequently found in each individual was that nothing could make themselves satisfied in any way possible. More, more, and more was what everyone desired, even though they had passed a raging storm over and over again, all that had no meaning when they still felt incredibly lacking. You can do better, a trigger sentence that drove someone starving for improvement, either in self, in society or in life.

          Park Jimin, sadly, was a part of those people. It practically took all of him to feel he had done everything perfectly, people might be looking at him like he was the best thing in the world and he appreciated it a lot, but inside he actually felt nothing aside from someone who was only given the task of doing this and that. Nobody had denied that he lacked something, he wanted to believe them, he really tried, but sometimes, his mind was remotely treacherous than a loaded gun.

          Jimin was indeed happy with his life now that he wouldn't trade it for anything, almost everything he hoped to have when he was little he could get it all through this job. But, all of that certainly did not come for free, there must be something he needed to do to pay for it. And being a part of Bangtan, being the reason of everyone's bright smile, being the motivation of others in loving themselves, in living life, was the way for him to shell out for the bliss of life he received up to this moment.

          Unfortunately, giving his best, taking pains to make everyone happy without thinking of himself was undoubtedly fallacious. Every morning he woke up, he forgot that his health was his top priority. The boy woke up with a new motivation to do better than yesterday, a new ambition to reach out what ARMYs expected from him, a new thing to learn from his previous mistakes, it pushed him to train and train until he doltishly scrubbed one thing about himself.

          Park Jimin wasn't a robot, he wasn't made of steel. He was real, a fragile swathe of flesh and bones that would bleed when he fell down. He could hold the weight of the world, he could take so much, gave everyone all of him if that was what they needed, but he forgot he was only human. Perfection had never been a fragment of his dictionary, so when the spasmodic pressure lashed out on him all at once, even a good machine could cross the Styx.

          "You know," Hoseok started as he watched the boy lying on the hospital bed, almost lifeless. "There's nothing to improve in you, you're—"

          "A good singer, a good dancer, a role model, what else? A good guy?" Jimin interrupted weakly, sprawling one arm out to cover his eyes entirely, to avoid any eye contacts with all the members. "I've heard that a lot, Hobi-hyung."