Aster Petals

✽ eight ✽

Seokjin ran to the bathroom at full speed, ignoring Namjoon's question of concern, and slammed the door shut.

It was unintentional, but he couldn't hold it back anymore. 

Running to the toilet, he positions his head over the bowl and he instantly barfs out all of the flowers he had been holding back. He didn't care if Namjoon could hear him vomiting, he didn't care if Namjoon would suspect him. No, not anymore. The pain was too much for him to bear.

He allows the flowers to fall out of his mouth. The purple Asters that had stains of red on their petals fell onto the toilet bowl, turning the clear water to crimson red. He painfully heaves the flowers that were caught in his throat, pushing himself, giving his all.

He could feel the burns. He could feel the stems tickling the insides of his throat, and it was nothing less than unpleasant. The roots of the flowers were digging into his organs, hugging his body with its stems.

His stomach churns as the Asters continue to grow, the roots continue to dig into his lungs, giving Seokjin no time to rest. Giving Seokjin no chance to catch his breath.

These flowers were merciless.

It was a lot more than last time. The last time he had vomited, it was nearly two bouquets. Now, it was much more than a shrub. The number of flowers kept on adding, nowhere near stopping nor slowing down. The flowers continue to scratch his inner skin, and it was burning like hell.

What more if he had roses with thorns?

He held the sides of the bowl tightly, gripping onto it as support. His arms trembled. Tears were dripping from his tightly shut eyes as it lands onto the petals. He was suffocating. He wanted it to end. He wanted this suffering to end.

After a few more minutes—which seemed like ages to Seokjin—the number of Asters had finally lessened. He forcefully coughs out the last of the flowers until it empties his system. His passageway of air had finally cleared up and now, he takes in huge amounts of air.

He tries not to give in. He tries his best to not fall onto the floor. He tries his best to stand and to stay strong so he pushes himself up, bringing one of his feet up, and then the other. He straightens his knees which were badly trembling, but he somehow manages.

Though the passageway has cleared, Seokjin's breathing was still unsteady, as if there were flowers that were still blocking it.

He wasn't as strong as before. He was weaker, to the point that he could hardly stand. The strength in his muscles faded and his chest felt heavier than ever before.

The pain inside his chest, it was too much.

He makes his way to the sink, holding onto the side for support. Once he made his way, he holds onto both sides as he tries to regain his strength. He looks at himself in the mirror and noticed a few of his features which made him frown.

He looked so pale and drawn. His bags were clearly seen underneath his eyes. His lips still had specks of blood. He looked so frail and he looked so, dead.

He heaved a shaky sigh. 

I look disgusting.

He hated how he looked at the moment. Disgusting, the only word that he could describe himself right now. He lowered his head and shut his eyes tightly. He firmly pressed his lips as he tries to bite back the tears that were building up.

He didn't want to cry. He can't cry. Not now, not here. The tears he needs to release, he wants to save it for later. He wants to save those tears for Jimin, not for himself.

He was worth no one's tears anyway.

He was exhausted. He was sick of it. He just wants to go home, lie down on his bed and slowly rot away. He knew that his time was coming. The end of the road was near but he doesn't know when. The speed of the car wasn't fast nor was it slow, but it was enough to take him to the end of the line.

It was enough to take him to his death bed. For him to rest upon it and to breathe out his final breath before Death takes him away.

Assuming that he had gained half of his strength, he let go of the sides of the sink. The trembling of his arms gradually lessened and his breathing was close to normal, but it still seems that he couldn't breathe properly.

He doesn't want to die yet. No, not today. He wanted to wait for at least a few more days. He wanted to create a few more memories before his clock stops ticking.

But the inevitable was unpredictable.

He folds the ends of his sleeves then he turns the faucet on. He washes his hands then he wipes his mouth, cleaning off the bloodstains on his lips.

He turns the faucet off, he flushes the toilet, then he looks back at the mirror, checking himself out.

The frown he had on his face made him look so dead and depressed. He attempted a smile in hopes that it would lighten up his expression. 

He looked more dead inside. 

So much for trying to look good.

He grabs his powder from the top of the counter and retouched his makeup. Putting it back down, he looked at himself for one last time. That's when he realized that he didn't need to put on makeup since his skin was already pale.

He fixes his tie, he smooths his hair, and he gives his coat a little tug. He was ready, he convinces himself.

Visually, yes.

Physically, no.

Mentally, no.

Probably he wasn't as ready as he had hoped he would be.

Through the mirror, he stares at himself with a determined look on his face. He can do this. He can survive one more day for Jimin.

You can do this Jin. Stay strong.

He forges a smile before exiting the room.

After opening the door, he immediately heard footsteps rushing over to him. Namjoon grabbed his arms, too tight for his liking, and asked in a concerned voice, "Jin hyung are you alright?"

Seokjin blinks his eyes at him. Namjoon had caught him off guard and the gears in his head were turning ever so slowly. There was something in Namjoon's eyes which he couldn't seem to quite understand. Worry was an obvious emotion, but there was something more to it which he couldn't seem to explain.

"Yeah," he absently replied. "I just had morning sickness," He manages to say, hoping that it would be enough to convince the latter.

Namjoon cocks his head to the side as he looks at the elder with uncertainty. "Are you sure?"

Seokjin nods.

The younger was still pretty unconvinced about the well-being of his hyung. Still, he had decided to let it slide for the meantime. He lets go of Seokjin, instantly slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants. He looks at his friend with an unfocused gaze and asks, "are you ready?"

Seokjin nods again, even if he wasn't.

The two fixed their suits for one last time before leaving the room for Jimin's funeral.

They were ready to go.

But they weren't ready to see their friend go.