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Forever is an illusion.

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The awkward silence that soon fell was inevitable.

Younggeum had almost expected this. She had even prepared some conversations beforehand if she ever got caught up in such fire situations but to her dismay, her brain refused to co-operate. At last, she had to courage to look into his eyes but flinched when she found the said pair gazing directly back at her.

"I hope I wasn't too much of a trouble last night. As you already know, I can't really hold my liquor that well." Taehyung spoke at last whilst rubbing his nape as he felt the urge to break the pregnant silence.

"Oh it was nothing Mister Kim," Younggeum responded, "You weren't much of a hassle anyways," she waved her hand in a careless manner and mentally thanked her brain for forming coherent responses on the spot.

"Really? Jimin says he doesn't really prefer my drunken self. Says that I'm too blunt or dramatic, maybe even bold." He shrugged but his features distorted into an uncomfortable frown when he did that. Maybe it was because of the hangover.

Yeah I can definitely confirm that.

"So Jimin was his name? The man who brought you back home? Is he an acquaintance or a close friend?" Younggeum absolutely hated the way she sounded so invasive. But a contrasting thought about Her Majesty conversing with wrong people had her deeply submerged in worry.

But Taehyung didn't seem to mind that at all.

"Yes, he's been my best buddy since diaper ages," Taehyung replied whilst pouring himself a glass of water, "Also the only one who tolerated me for the last 27 years." He chuckled as he finally downed the water through his parched throat.

"If he is Your Maje-, Mister Kim's friend, then he must be of great importance. I shouldn't have called out his name like that. What is his full name?" Younggeum pondered over to herself as her eyes caught on the male chuckling softly to himself.

"I'm sure Jimin wouldn't mind." he waved,"It's Park Jimin, if you're curious."

"Hmm, then calling him Mister Park would be suitable, wouldn't it?"

"I really can't win against you, can I?" Taehyung mused, "You're really lucky that I'm not in a mood for a prattle. You can call him whatever you like but remember, he really gets aggravated if someone calls him a shorty." Leaving Younggeum to meddle with her thoughts, Taehyung entered her room once again to unwillingly go to work. God knows why did he had such a wonderful yet miserable suggestion of drinking when he knew he had work the next day.

Picking a navy blazer and matching slacks, Taehyung's gaze finally levelled with the clock. Mumbling curses, he dashed yo the bathroom and hastily brushed his teeth but he stopped for a moment when he took in his reflection.

Messy bed hair, faint dark circles and puffy eyebags, even swollen cheeks and oily skin. He looked so horrible and he hated the way he looked so drained when he had an almost rejuvenating sleep last night.

Moreover, he hated when he lied.

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Younha felt exhausted.

Smiling uncontrollably for hours on loop wasn't easy, especially when it is a fake smile you had to plaster for the sake of your job. Don't get her wrong, Younha loved to be a psychologist and that was the reason why she aspired to become one, but, sometimes it can get tiring.

"Miss Younha, here is that last patient for today and then you are allowed to get dismissed." A lady in her mid fifties entered her room without knocking and had to witness Younha's slumped body over her desk in mock-surrender.

"I...I will leave the patient's information on the table. He is a new one so please keep a track of his file." The lady said with a monotone voice but only got a thumbs-up from a still slacked over female.

The lady sighed, "You can do this Miss Kim, just one more patient and you're free to go."

Again, all she got was a thumbs-up.

The lady shook her head slightly and left the room mumbling some incoherent phrases along the lines of 'young generation these days' and 'when I was young...'

When the thick duvet of silence again wrapped around her figure, she finally mustered up enough willpower to shake off the lulling duvet and set her eyes on the black file. Before she could curse at the someone beneath the papers, she stopped. It was her job after all, she shouldn't despise because she herself had chosen the stream.

"Let's get this over with." She cracked her knuckles and swiftly tilted her head from side to side before her slender fingers finally flipped the cover of the file open.

But the sight in front of her made her jaw drop to ground.

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'You should go to a therapy'

'I know a few psychologists, want me to dial them?'

'It's getting out of hand, kiddo. You should really go see a doc before it gets too worse'

'I am worried for your health, do you really not care about us?'

'I am sure going to a hospital might help'

Park Jimin was tired of listening to these sentences all day long and everyday. Yes, his addiction was getting worse but it was his problem to deal with. Why are the external people trying to recommend him suggestions and at like they care even if they didn't even bat an eyelashes when he was in dire need of help?

So, to shut them up, he finally obliged to others and came in for a quick therapy session that was supposed to 'heal him'. He didn't even know what was the hype about psychologists? How would a person ever turn his addiction away from alcohol when the person might still be dealing with their own problems?

A broken person cannot fix another, just like a broken wing cannot fly.

Frankly, walking through this intimidating white and sterile walls were never Jimin's favourite. The hallways would always be either desolate or would be filled with resonances of someone's departure. The whole aura that a hospital radiates was dark, even though it was clad in white which was supposed to be the sign of good.

But this time, he was at a psychologist's. Atleast someone didn't die here. Did they?

"Uh, may I know where room number 6 is?" He asked the lady at the reception who seemed to indulged in her own personal matters to even care about the poor boy's question.

"Walk to the end of this corridor and turn left. First room on the turn." She replied so sternly that it made Jimin take a resolution to himself that he should never enquire receptionists. They were more frightening than the actual doctors with syringes!

"Thank you." Jimin said aloud and walked away, not even expecting a decent reply.

Clutching a sheet of paper, Jimin sauntered towards the end and turned to face the very room he was asking about earlier. He couldn't help but wipe his clammy hands on his jeans before raising his hand above to knock on the door. He was allowed to be nervous, wasn't he? After all, what lay inside was supposed to 'change his life'.

And truth to be told, he couldn't wait for that change. His hope might be shattered into little pieces though, but he should atleast try. He didn't wanted to give up and go home claiming that it didn't work because he didn't wanted it to work.

Park Jimin opted for a change.

So he knocked.

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"This would work, but what about them?!" A shrill cry tore through the room as the other clamped his hands on his ears to shut her unnecessary yelling out.

"They weren't supposed to meet! Then what happened!? Huh?!" The woman screeched and grabbed the collars of the other's shirt and began tugging at it ferociously.

"I'm sorry! I let it slip! I wasn't paying attention!" The woman finally released the other much to the latter's relief.

"You better fix this up lest you're going to be a mortal once again."

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A/N: BTS ARE GOING IN MILITARY SERVICE AND IM NOT OKAY

I CANT EVEN FIND MY TISSUE BOX!

THIS DAMN TEARS JUST DONT STOP