𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬 | Jikook

6. Wait For It To Come

'𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚜: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛.'

- 𝚂ø𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚄𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑: 𝙰 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚄𝚙𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐

-side note, this song fucking jams man. for us n our depressi

Jimin

Who are we? Where do we come from? Why were we there? And, why are we here? With his fingers interlocked and resting a top his chest, Jimin felt his head swarming with boundless, existential thoughts. They riddled his mind, tainting his synapses, and he let them. Today was his day off. What else was he supposed to do? Go outside, fulfill activities of productivity, make the most of his day and feel unbelievably whole?

He didn't think so.

Laying here beneath jumbled blankets was all he could hope to do. He didn't even have the energy to stand, to shower, to eat or drink anything. This was all he deserved, to maybe wither away. Although it came wearily, Jimin managed to lift his wrist from his chest and sling his forearm over his eyes; he was within a dark room, and still the bisque light of day had managed to creep past the dust-caked edges of his drawn blinds, and it compelled his pupils to pain. Why did his body fight so hard to survive, when his mind wanted nothing more than to die? Was this such the way of human life? Why did he have to accept that? And why...why didn't he fight it?

...what did he have to do today? What did he really have to do, besides the urge to do nothing at all? Mark homework, revise his lesson plans, prepare the midterm exams...

"...mmph..." Rolling over onto his side, Jimin curled his body into a ball, clutching his hands to his middle and folding his sheets between his bare calves. He really didn't want to. This week was already too much to bare, and it was only Wednesday. Today was the day, the day of his outcome of his decision. Prying one eye open, the blurry canvas of his bleak and murky bedroom steadily came into focus, as did the crumpled side of paper which resided on top of his bedside dresser. Just one look at that tiny, fragile piece of the universe was somehow enough to send his heart thumping heavily against his ribcage. A miniscule shard of that strange, pink-haired man was enough to almost send him into a raging panic attack. If that paper was all it took to break him down, then Jimin wasn't even sure if he wanted to see him. The stranger, he meant...

...him?

"Jimin hyung..."

"NO!" he yelled, as his body impulsively lurched upward and his chest pulsed with his turmoil. Here, shaking and quivering, Jimin found himself clutching his quilts with a damp palm, whilst the other pressed deep into his thorax in attempt to shrink his uneven heaves. He couldn't breathe. Just...the thought of him, hurt so much. A single thought...what would it do to him, if he saw him? Here, unable to see him as clearly as he had maybe once before, Jimin found himself closing his eyes to impede the oncoming cascade of tears, before they fell down his hallowed cheeks. If he cried, he knew he'd have to accept his inability to carry on without him. Maybe, he had to try first.