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A shoal of grey smoke swept overhead, enshrouding the sky with its menacing shade. The wind picked up from a light breeze to an unyielding gust, bringing with it the spitting of the clouds. Pirate sniffed the air on two hindlegs before scurrying for shelter, Gingernut following suit with rigid ears. The pinwheels spun and squeaked, and autumn leaves descended from the trees whose branches still bedecked them.
It seemed as though the weather was declining like the boy in Jimin's arms. Completely inconsolable and incoherent, Jimin could only manage to understand one small word amidst the wet babbles and squalls emitting from his trembling lips.
Dolly.
The word tumbled from Yoongi like a mantra. Jimin attempted to hush him to no avail. Yoongi had been holding on by a thread - and now that thread had split, plunging his mind into chaos. As the downpour increased in harshness, Jimin knew he had to get them back to the house before either of them got soaked to the bone and inevitably ill.
"Yoongi, petal, you're okay." The whistling of the wind carried away his words as though they were as light as a hushed whisper. Jimin winced, feeling the sharpness of Yoongi's uncut nails burrowing into his thigh. "You're safe. I'm here."
With no other choice, Jimin stood up, wobbly on his feet, taking Yoongi in his arms. The young boy cried out at the sudden movement but buried himself deep in Jimin's chest like a newborn sloth to its mother, tiny claws and all. Jimin supported Yoongi's lithe body and shielded him from the growing storm as he bolted across the garden and towards the greenhouse whose rickety doors were rattling under the intensity of the wind. With a swift turn of his feet, Jimin slammed the doors shut and turned the key to secure them in place. A choked sob made its way up Yoongi's throat, and Jimin winced. It sounded raw and strident. Jimin guessed it felt worse than it seemed - the sort of sore throat where it was like you had swallowed a box of screws or broken glass or even a blizzard of angry wasps.
Again, Jimin attempted to hush Yoongi's cries, but they were futile. His quiet words of comfort and tender touches were the equivalents to fixing his broken heart with a flimsy band-aid, and each time it came undone, the damage was graver.
In his back pocket, Jimin's phone began to vibrate incessantly. Jimin decided the best time to answer was in the shelter of the greenhouse. The glass windows muted the storm outside. Although, this time, they weren't trapped and no-one would be spraining their ankle. Jimin slipped his phone from his jeans and balanced it between his ear and shoulder.
First static, then Jeongguk's crackly voice came through the speaker.
