05 ▪︎Hope▪︎
✦ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ✦
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ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴏᴡᴇʀs ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ Sᴘʀɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ
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[Jimin's POV]
"Where are we going?" I ask curiously peeking at Ria's confident form, who leads us through the series of lively streets.
"Home."
I wrinkle my eyebrows, not comprehending her word, as we enter the quiet neighborhood with rows of two-story houses with similar architecture. She yanks my arm violently, pulling me behind her as she makes her way towards the door.
Ria knocks on the door, as I repeatedly glance from the white door to her unbothered form, feeling how nervousness is rising up my throat. Where did she bring me?
A moment later an elderly woman opens the door, a white apron hanging on her chest, her hands covered in flour. The woman's almond eyes momentarily brighten when they land on Ria's impassive face, as she smiles warmly, widening her flour-covered hands.
Ria walks towards the woman's warm embrace, "hi, mom."
Her mother's wrinkled eyes land on me as she pulls away from her daughter, and for a moment I think my heart is going to jump out of my chest. "Who is this lovely gentleman, sweetie?"
"Mom, this is Jimin, um....a friend."
The woman turns to me, her eyes glistening with charm and warmth as a buzzy feeling rushed through my veins. Stepping forward I bow, "it's nice to meet you. Mrs. Kim,"
I straighten, my fingers tightening around my school bag strap, as I look at the woman like a lost puppy, and my eyes widen even more when she does the last thing I've expected.
Pulls me into a hug. Her gentle yet at the same time strong arms wrap around me as I stand there frozen, startled by the sudden action. "Nice to meet you too, Jimin," she says, pulling away. "I'm happy this young lady is finally communicating with people." She complains, pointing at her daughter.
Ria scoffs, rolling her eyes, "let him inside, mom."
"Oh, I'm sorry, dear, come in," Mrs. Kim blurts out hurriedly, "you kids must be hungry, I'm..." she hums looking at her flour-covered hands, "but, guys, you have to wait I have to finish this," she raises her hands, pointing to the white powder, "first."
"We can help!" Ria exclaims, throwing her mother one of her mischievous smiles.
"You can?" Her mother asks skeptically, giving her daughter a playful look, as she looks from Ria to me, and I'm quick to nod vigorously as a thought crosses my mind: This woman reminds me of my mom.
After washing up, I follow Ria as she walks into the white furnished kitchen. There are ingredients spread across the kitchen island, as on the other side there are neatly cut heart-shaped cookies that bring an unconscious smile to my face.
"Now, this portion is ready," Mrs. Kim says, picking the tray with cookies and putting them into the oven, "for the second portion...Jimin, honey, crack four eggs and mix them. Ria, add salt and sugar and...." She gapes down at the empty flour package, "there should be another package of flour, add flour after you mix it."
I nod like an obedient schoolboy before doing what she said. Cracking the eggs I start whisking them. And suddenly the earsplitting, shrill sound of ringtone erupts in the house as Ria's mom jumps from her place, eyes widening as she carelessly wipes her hands on her apron, "this should be your father," is the only thing she mutters before running out of the kitchen.
I stare at the spot, where her figure was moments ago in utter confuddlness. Ria seems to notice my confusion. "My father is a military servant positioned on the frontline," Ria explains, as she uselessly tries to open the flour bag, "so his calls to home are very rare and well...mom is...excited."
I hum in response, nodding in understanding as I watch how she struggles to open the flour package.
I saw scissors somewhere here.
My head twirls around as my hazel eyes jump from one side to another looking for the scissors. There. As I'm about to hand her the scissors, the bag of flour erupts onto her face covering her face, hair, and school uniform with white powder.
My eyes bulge out of my skull, as I'm unable to hold the laughter that erupts from my chest. She starts cursing under her breath, trying to wipe the flour off.
Ria sneezes as the white powder bursts out of her nostrils making me double over and hold my stomach.
"You think it's funny, Park Jimin?" She hisses, and the next thing I know a fistful of flour is thrown onto my face as I cough it out of my mouth. As she's about to throw flour at me again I blurt out hurriedly, "Okay, okay, it's not funny, stop."
I watch her in utter amusement as she tries to wipe the flour off her black hair. Uselessly waving her hands.
But my amused expression doesn't last long as she does the last thing I could ever expect. She takes a fistful of her hair and with one swift yank they come off, revealing a hairless skull.
My face falls, posture straightening, as I open and close my mouth like a fish in utter shock and confusion. Feeling how my heart starts beating fast, I take a deep breath to knock myself out of this stupor as I stare at her with inquiring eyes.
When her dark irises land on me, the soft smile exchanges her irritated look, as she chuckles. "You would have questioning marks flying in circles above your head if you were a cartoon character."
"You wear a wig." My voice is shaky and uncertain.
"Yeah, Jimin, I wear a wig." She states calmly.
I don't ask. I'm afraid to ask. I'm scared to hear the answer, but I know I have to. I clear my throat, "why?"
I hear my slow and steady heartbeat in my ears that sounds vulgar in this heavy stillness, my breath escalating as I wait and wait and wait, as I simply hope.
Say that you like that style. Say that someone stuck a gum into your hair and you had to shave it. Say that you were tired of brushing your hair every day. Just say something.
Please don't shutter the newly bloomed hope in my chest.
"Wow, that's an improvement," Ria tilts her head, smiling softly, "Park Jimin asking questions without stuttering. I'm proud of you, partner." She giggles.
"Ria," I drawl, looking at her with pleading eyes.
A long, heavy, seemingly tiring sigh leaves her flour-covered lips, as she lowers her head, "Fourth stage of liver cancer," her voice is low and uncertain, her words are not as they hit their target with precise accuracy.
I inhale deeply, letting my shaky hand run through flour-covered hair, "you're going to be okay, right?"
"Oh," she snickers under her breath, "do you worry about me?" She says playfully, throwing me her signature smile.
"Ria," I state firmly, restrain the destructive feeling that threatens to take over me, despair. "Yes, I worry about you," I affirm, at the same time wondering, why?
I don't even know her for long, yet I cling to her, like a koala to a stick. Maybe because she gave me hope? those seeds of hope wormed into my soul that endured like small pebbles, growing bigger and making me get up in the morning, like today.
Yet I can't help but wonder, is hope just an illusion? Is it just a tool to fool the mind and defy logic? I don't know.
"Seven months," she breathes out, the smile never leaving her lips, "The doctor says chemotherapy isn't helping." She says playfully, yet there's nothing playful about her words.
I close my eyes, a heavy silence falling upon us. It's quiet, so odd, so contradictory to Ria's vibrant and loud personality.
I don't feel how my legs start moving on their own, but I find myself exiting the kitchen the next moment.
"You can cut all the flowers but you can't keep Spring from coming, partner." I freeze as her melodic voice reaches my ears. "Do you know why I was on that rooftop that day?"
I don't turn around to face her, I don't move, I don't breathe. I just wait. "To do the same thing you were doing. End the useless suffering. Do you know what stopped me? You." I slowly whirl on my heel, my eyes meeting hers, as my breath hitches when I see her face. Smiling through glistening tears. She's smiling, and what strikes me more, it's not a fake smile. "I didn't have a reason to carry on, my life didn't have a purpose, I was aimless."
"All my life I wanted to make a difference, and now I had an opportunity." She pauses, as I find myself holding my breath. "You. You were the difference I could make. Don't let my existence be in vain, Jimin," my heart sinks as she pronounces my name, "please."
I bite my lip staring at her, and the word I say next brings me pain, worse than any physical pain can be, because with that single word I'm accepting the reality, accepting that Spring will come, and I can't run away from it, "how?"
"There's an audition for the role of Prince Siegfried in Swan Lake in about four weeks," she states certainly as if she has rehearsed her speech before as she wipes away her tears, "the performance will take part in 6 months. I want you to go!"
My eyebrows hit my hairline as I stare at her In utter shock. Me? In Lake Swan? Not a chance. "Ri- I do-" I shake my head, pondering over her words, "...no....this is serious. I can't," I stumble over my words.
"No, you can, I saw you, I saw the way you dance, you have a chance, partner. You can't swim towards the horizon without letting go of the shore." She takes slow but confident steps towards me, "that fear and doubts that nestled inside of you," she pokes my chest with her flour-covered finger, "you have to let go of them in order to reach your dreams."
I scratch the back of my head, making the white powder on my head fall, as I gape at her with doubtful eyes, "do you think I have a chance?"
Her eyes brighten, a wide smile spreading across her face as she flings her arms around me, pulling me down into a bone-crushing hug. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Of course, you have a chance," my arms instinctively wrap around her fragile form, as I chuckle at her childish excitement, "you have all the chances in the world!"
I pull away, suppressing the wide smile, "but we're still covered in flour, and the kitchen is still a mess. I don't think your mom will like this."
Ria glances back over her shoulder, her arms still on my neck, as a groan of annoyance comes out of her pink lips, leaving my gaze lingering on them a bit longer than necessary. "This is going to be a long day."
"Can't agree more," I reply, smirking slyly, as a new bubbling sensation erupts in my stomach.
✦ᴠᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ✦
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