Bubble games

seveteen

It has been three days. Three days since Yoongi is gone, since Yoongi has left him. Jimin has not eaten, not slept, not even showered for three days. He has stayed sitting by his window, blankly staring outside, as if he expected Yoongi to reappear at any moment, as if he waited for the right time to jump too and reunite with Yoongi, wherever he was.

Jimin has not let his mother enter his room for three days. On the first morning, she had knocked to wake him up–although he had not got a wink of sleep–and tried to come in when he had not answered. But Jimin had made sure to lock himself in, and never responded to her. Everyday she attempts to make him go out, to get him to talk to her, but he has decided not to talk to anyone, not to leave his room, ever.

Jimin has not gone to school for three days. He has not answered any of his friends' texts. Not even Jin's. Jin, who has called him every day for three days, leaving vocal messages, text messages, who has urged every one of Jimin's friends to text him, who has texted even his mother. But Jimin just wants to be alone. If Yoongi has decided not to stay with him, then he'd rather just stay by himself.

The orange-haired boy is currently playing with the fabric of his close-fitting pyjamas, which he has not even taken off since Yoongi has gone, as he hears in the distance the disturbing buzzing of his phone. He unnecessarily takes a peek at the screen, making out Jin's caller ID, and gets back to looking through the window.

He starts crying again without realizing it, and presses his hand flat against the pane. How could Yoongi leave him? How could Yoongi make him believe he existed for so long? How could he fall in love with someone that did not exist?

Jimin hits the window with his fist, ignoring the slight pain it causes him. He is just so angry at Yoongi, for never telling him he was not real. And at himself, for being so clueless. "So stupid," he whispers furiously. Jimin growls, and hits the window again. "So. Freaking. Stupid," he repeats as he keeps banging on the pane.

Then, he turns away from the window and leans his back against the wall, looking at the ceiling, and still crying his eyes out. All of a sudden, he opens his mouth, and starts screaming. But he does not stop. He screams at the ceiling, as loud as he can, as long as he can, his arms widely stretched.

He barely hears his mother rush to his bedroom door and frantically knock. When he finally stops screaming, he can hear her say in a distressed sob, "Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay?" His only answer is another loud scream, this time directed at the floor. "Jimin, please, stop screaming. Please, talk to me," his mother goes on, sounding heartbroken. "Is it something at school?" He keeps screaming and screaming, rising so he can hit the walls of his room with his tiny fists. "Let me come in, honey! Let me help! Are you all alone? Is Yoongi with you?"

Jimin immediately stops screaming and punching the walls. He glares at the door, as if just his look could pierce through it and destroy his mother. He yells to her, "Don't talk about him! I hate him! Fuck him!"

He cannot hear his mother anymore–he knows she's probably gone to make a desperate call to his therapist, who will in all likelihood tell her that her son is mad and needs to be locked up. But he does not care. He just hurts so much. And he wants to hurt something in return. Anything.

As he is panting and shaking from all the anger he is feeling inside, his look stops on the walls above his bed. They are covered with drawings. Drawings of Yoongi. Jimin does not think twice. He bounces on his bed and starts tearing every drawing off the wall, ripping each of them as he keeps on screaming and crying about how much he hates Yoongi.

After he is done, he gets off his bed and tries to catch his breath, leaning on his cupboard for support. He gives one final punch on the wardrobe but looks up when he hears something scatter inside. He opens the doors wide and sees his collection of bubble tubes.