Before It's Too Late | Yoonmin

Chapter 13

Jimin POV

Biting my lip as I look around the room, I run a shaky hand whilst listening to one of the recording he had left over from when he was making his first mixtape. I went looking around the other day, found that he'd even had a second one prepared. It's ready to go and everything, literally just needs handed into Manager Nim for it to get put out to the world and it's done.

Glancing back down to the notebook I have open on his desk, I stay curled up in his desk chair with his blanket wrapped around my shoulders. I've actually managed to write four of my own songs in the last six months, despite the fact that Namjoon doesn't think that I've done anything. Despite the fact that they all think I only sit in here and lay in his bed in a slump.

I can't say I'm happy with what I've got so far, with what I've created. That would require me to really feel something more than the pain that's eating away at me, the pain and thoughts and memories, the feelings that will forever haunt me. I would need confirmation on those songs before saying that they're worth anything, but I guess it doesn't really matter. If they meet Namjoon's standards, then I'm sure they could get released, but his thoughts towards them wouldn't mean much. The only person's opinion on them that would matter is the reason why I'm in here in the first place, the reason these ever got written to start with.

Taking a shaky deep breath, I lean my head back against the back of the chair, the familiar feeling of hot tears slowly rolling down my cheeks returning once again.

All I ever wanted... He's all that I ever really wanted or needed. Jungkook told me, so many fucking times. I just had to be an idiot and stay silent though. I had to hold everything back and never tell him. Maybe, just maybe, if I would've told him... Maybe then he wouldn't have left. Maybe then he'd still be here. Maybe then we would never have had to go through this. Maybe it could've been enough for him. Maybe I could've been enough to save him...

"Fucking hell." I whimper quietly to myself, sitting forward in the chair. Wiping at the stream of tears falling, I reread the last line of lyrics I have written before adding onto them.

These thoughts aren't helpful. The what if's haunting my mind. The pain haunting my entire being. The fear of losing him being what keeps me up at night. None of it helps, it just slowly eats away at me and slowly kills me. I don't really mind though, knowing I'm the cause for this. Knowing that I'm the reason all of this happened in the first place. Knowing that I clearly should have tried harder and been better and helped more. Knowing that maybe that would've been enough for him. The only thing half decent that comes from any of it is the fact that it gives me something to write. The music to go alongside the lyrics is probably the hardest part of creating the entire song, but it almost makes it feel like he's still here. Almost makes it feel like he isn't really gone. That he almost didn't leave me.

Though, finishing up the lyrics for this song, I just sigh and flip to a clean page to start lyrics for the next song. It'll be the ninth one I've written, but it's so much fucking easier writing than it is creating the music. It's the reason only four of them are finished.

However, just like always, it only lasts for so long. Getting probably about halfway through this last song, I spin the chair around and throw the pencil that I'd been using to write, breaking down and sobbing all over again.

I'll be honest, I probably reread his letter every other night. His words haunt my mind, haunt me every minute and every second of every day. Every waking fucking moment.

Hearing a knock at the door, it snaps me from my thoughts as I look over to the door with wide eyes, always hoping and wishing that he'd just walk right through those doors. Tell me it was all just some terrible joke. A fucking prank, a nightmare, fucking anything that this isn't real. However, the door opens to reveal our maknae, a gentle look in his eyes before spotting the strewn pencil. He sighs softly, picking it up and walking over to me to hand it back. I take it reluctantly, setting it down on the table that's now behind me. I just watch as he walks back over to the door, shutting it gently before sitting down on the couch that he's hand in here since this room was made.

"I know you don't really wanna talk about it, Jiminie, but it might not be a bad idea. The five of us just finished up a Vlive with army. They're worried not only for him, but also for you. They all caught that you've still not left the house. It would help get things off your chest and you could even tell them about the songwriting you've been doing. It also might not be bad to go give him a visit. Who knows, maybe you're the one he's waiting on to visit before he wakes back up."