because your hands (and lips) still know their way around

by : ggukbrain

Summary:

it's been five years since they've broken up. jimin still hasn't recovered and is desperate for one more night with the only boy he had ever loved, the only boy who loved him back, the only boy who touched and caressed him like he was the most fragile object in the world. the only boy who broke his heart.

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNING: depression and suicide. if i'm being honest i always feel like the fic romanticizes suicide?? please please let me know if it does!!!

Five years.

Five long, agonizing years of heartbreak.

Jimin is still alive, but just barely.

A nameless boy moans into his mouth as he thrusts into Jimin rhythmically, but all he can do is cry. His throat burns with lachrymose, choking him in the most merciless way possible, unlike a pair of warm hands that only ghost over him now.

He sobs, in slow hiccups and tortured cries, tears trickling down his face like acid searing every bit of skin it comes across. Splitting his skin the way he split his heart.

The nameless boy pants as he releases into Jimin, curses, and pulls out. Beads of sweat trailed down his neck and back, unlike the droplets of angst that fell from the latter's eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were in this much pain, dude," he mumbles, hurriedly putting his clothes on after noticing the poignant sobs. "Uh, do you want Aspirin or something? I'm not exactly in a hurry to leave—"

"Go," Jimin whispers, cracking a helpless smile. "I'm okay, it's not—it's not you. I was thinking about something."

The boy nods and leaves, closing the door behind him.

He feels disgusting in his sheen of sweat, glistening tears, and someone else's come.

Jimin collapses back onto his bed, sniffling quietly as he stares up at the ceiling, picturing his face staring down at him with the most gentle smile he had ever seen. Eyes warmer than a hot cup of tea, with amber flecks like sticky, sweet curlicues of honey. The kind of chestnut emo fringe that fell over his eyes in the quirkiest way possible, the kind that made beanies worth wearing.

Except the boy he once knew and loved was no longer his; no longer his to hug, no longer his to kiss, no longer his to touch.

He had traded his smile for the cruelest smirk that any man or woman would slave over. His eyes were concealed by cold grey contacts, with streaks of silver that resembled a winter's ruthless blizzard. His hair now fell in icy blonde waves, parted to make way for his emotionless gaze.

Sometimes Jimin thought that maybe the breakup wasn't the worst part, but that the change was hardest.

Days slug by without any meaning or purpose. Nothing important, nothing to live for. But Jimin still carries on with shackles on his feet, with his heart weighed down by an anchor.

Instagram

[parkjk]: kim.taehyung posted a photo.

He sighs, the exhale uneven and trembling. The boy tosses his phone into his drawer then heads into his bathroom.

He peels off his shirt (he questions why he even had a shirt on when he was being fucked) and carelessly tosses it onto the milky tiled floor, its soft cotton fabric damp with sweat at his feet. While sitting down in the white porcelain tub, he reaches to turn the water on, stretching his back muscles.

It stings.

It really stings, knowing that someone who once held the moon, the stars, galaxies and the entire universe within for you got tired of keeping it.

It stings like the scalding burn of a lightbulb, the blaze of a thousand fires, stripping away your flesh and soul.

The water that began to fill the tub is too hot, like the too-hot summer days at the edge of the beach, where waves would tickle their ankles, back when Jimin still had Taehyung and when Taehyung loved Jimin. It's too hot, but Jimin is already numb to it all.

His knees are leveled with the water that had flooded the tub, creating a few delicate ripples on the surface. He stares down at his own dull, bruised reflection and skims a finger over it.

He feels ugly without any emotion but sadness pouring out. Where there used to be a smile was just a pair of blood-bitten lips; what was the point anymore?

If Taehyung was the only one that could make him feel, shouldn't it be the same for him? Why is he okay and moved on? Why is he different?

A selfish voice whispers into Jimin's ear, "Maybe he still loves you."

"He doesn't," Jimin says plainly, leaning against the tub wall.

The water is tempting like sweet alcohol, hissing in Jimin's ear and telling him that maybe he could just end his suffering by drowning in the tub—cleansed of his dirtiness, shameful feelings and sins before drifting away.

Drowning wouldn't be ideal for someone as compulsive as him. He'd naturally come up for breath and drag himself out of the depths just like how he would naturally run back to Taehyung five years after they've broken up.

It was so predictable. It was so expected that it was laughable.

Pathetic is all he'll ever be, even if he ceases to exist. Desperate, clingy, stubborn, stupid—there wasn't anything left that could describe him positively.

Taehyung was such a vital part of him, like a second heart that pounded furiously against his ribcage, rattling every inch of his body. When he ripped himself out, Jimin had no idea how much he relied on him all this time.

His hand breaks the serene soapy surface of the water, gently pushing it back and forth to create calm waves that splash against his aching chest every so often.

Drowning in the Han River wouldn't be too bad either, Jimin decides emotionlessly.

【❁】

Nightmares are just the dark remainder of dreams, he learned.

Jimin didn't even understand why he still had these since he lives in one anyway. But the fear, the hurt, and the confusion manipulates his brain and heart, chokes him in his sleep and everything seems stuck in the same endless loop.

His heart is useless but for some reason, it hasn't given up on pumping blood through his system and clenching forcefully to bring tears to his eyes.

He tosses and turns, wet sobs clawing at his dry throat, raw emotions tearing up his veins and ultimately crushing his heart. Never-ending waves of heartbreak come in hurricanes and drag his frail body back into the cold, lone depths.

It's always the same old scene, played on an infinite, broken-record kind of loop. The kind that would engrave itself into every nook and cranny of his skin, but turn against him in due time.

He squeezes his eyes shut and breathes heavily.

...I

                                                          think..

                                                                                              we...

should...

                             break ..

                                                       up.

The words float around aimlessly and strike at once.

Jimin looks up from the crunchy gravel path underneath him and meets Taehyung in the eye. "What?"

Taehyung slides his hand out of Jimin's and shoves it into his pocket. He locks eyes with him for the briefest moment, and that's all it takes for Jimin to tremble in fear and worry.

"I-I said," he stutters, refusing to look at the latter. "I think we should break up."

Jimin squeezes his hand, a reflex to hold on tighter to his boyfriend, but his nails dig into his palm instead. "Why?"

Taehyung looks up again and into the distance, observing a flock of birds leaving for the winter that began to roll in. "I—don't know exactly why myself. But we're too perfect, you know? Something's gonna happen. You already know my parents are homophobic, we leave for different universities soon...I'm just ending it so nothing bad would happen later."

Jimin surprises himself the most when he scoffs, white clouds of air leaving his mouth. "You're breaking up with me because of superstition?"

They've both stopped in their tracks, the rhythmic stomp on gravel tuning out. Taehyung sighs.

"You know that's not what I'm saying."

The younger swallows the lump in his throat. "I know because you wouldn't say anything like that."

"Minnie—"

"You'd fight," he murmurs, lip corners curling into a pitiful smile. "You w-would make me believe that everything would turn out better than a-alright."

Taehyung reaches out to squeeze the latter's hand reassuringly, but he turns away and continues along the path. "Jimin!"

"I guess reality caught up, huh? Just a little earlier than I expected," he says sharply. The words sting Taehyung like a slap in the face and he can only recoil in pain.

"Jimin, I'm sorry," he mumbles, quickening his speed to catch up with the much more able-bodied younger. "Let me explain! I'm not done—"

"There isn't anything to explain, I understand," Jimin says, so calmly that it freaked himself out. "Unless there's something else you didn't want to tell me."

Everything Jimin had voiced aloud crashes into him like a gust of wind, nipping at his skin in ice shards.

"Y-You caught me," Taehyung mutters, stopping again and looking the younger in the eyes. "There's something else."

Jimin's heart clenches and tugs at the back of his throat. "What is it?"

Taehyung wouldn't cheat. He wasn't dying. He wasn't moving away, with the exception of post-secondary.

Everything that he didn't even know he had bottled up spill uncontrollably like bottles of beer and soju that were strewn across their apartment floor on Friday nights. And he can't stop to soak it back in.

"I want to see someone else, okay? I'm always with you nowadays and you're so predictable! It gets boring when the same person revolves around you every single day. I want to go out and meet people and make friends but I know you trust me and don't want me hanging out with other guys but—you're so overprotective! I'm older than you and you're only possessive—"

The rest becomes static white noise, fading out like echoes but becoming clear at certain words.

"I'm tired of you, okay? We're around each other too much. I can't take being close to someone all the time."

Because Jimin was the most precious thing in the world to Taehyung, but not a human. He has an unfortunate shelf life, a best-before date. And he was living on borrowed time with Taehyung anyways, he should've expired a long time ago.

"That's how I really feel."

Because Jimin doesn't have feelings; he's just material. Something to keep Taehyung entertained. To stay with him until he's no longer needed. Jimin was Taehyung's favorite blanket—they believed they would be together forever, but he let go and matured.

Maybe that was the problem—Jimin wasn't mature enough for Taehyung.

He wasn't unpredictable enough. He wasn't smart enough. He wasn't kind enough. He wasn't handsome enough. He wasn't rich enough. He wasn't creative enough. He wasn't interesting enough. He was not enough .

His love wasn't enough, his time wasn't enough, his heart, his blood—it could never satisfy such a soul like Taehyung.

When did the word enough become so harsh?

Jimin closes his eyes, opens them and finds himself lying in bed, tears trailing down his cheek and landing onto his chapped lips.

It wasn't real, but it still was.

【❁】

Twitter

@kth951230 tweeted: Oh well guess who's single...again.

Jimin is selfish.

Selfish for even thinking of a possibility that Taehyung would still want him after five years. He broke up to get away from how boring Jimin was, why would he return to the same thing but with an extra load of struggles?

Replies

hoseok @wholesocks

@kth951230 i told you she'd leave you as soon as you mentioned your grades in english lmao

||

th @kth951230

@wholesocks this is bullying ㅠㅠ

Jimin's thumb hovers over the reply button while he bites down on his lip, thinking of the right words to tweet. What could he say to him anyway? "Hey, it's been five years and I still love you?"

Listening to his brain, he exits the app and presses his photo library with brutal force. He scrolls down to find an album of memories with Taehyung and his throat thrums sadly.

Last updated: 11-06-2013

He scrolls through the old pictures, cringing at his former, younger self. In every photo, he'd been staring into Taehyung's eyes dreamily and smiling like a dork, which is now just a fragment of his history and nothing more.

As he slowly makes his way down to the most recent picture, his chest contracts and cuts off his airflow. The pictures were only a visible reminder that he's too attached to delete anything and to give up on something that disappeared a long time ago.

He bites down on his trembling lip and finds a screenshot of a text from Taehyung and he deteriorates, tears unraveling him as they fall.

I'm so glad you were my first.

I hope I was good to you.

I love you. I will never stop loving you.

"You're a liar," he snarls, choking on the last syllable. He angrily hits the trash can icon at the corner of his tear-stained screen as a new reason to get over Kim Taehyung blazes in his heart and mind, but he can't bring himself to let go.

He still has all the messages, even though he's switched phones a couple of times in the span of five years because he can't afford to throw away the last piece of life he's holding onto. The last crumb of happiness he can preserve.

His contact list still has his name set as 'my everything' and he knows for a fact that Taehyung's number didn't change even after he had drunkenly dialed him for three nights after their breakup.

The phone number sits in the field innocently but it still tempts Jimin viciously, the same feeling of being hooked on a drug and yearning for more. Simple digits taunt him, drag him to the edge of existence and shriek into his ears.

His finger hits the dial icon.

Before he can even register the first ring and hit the end call button, someone on the other end picks up and murmurs something, but all Jimin can hear is his heart pounding against his ribcage, threatening to tear itself out. Blood rushes to his head and his heart beats a few hundred times a second, making his head spin and his eyes flutter.

Everything is clear and calm again when Taehyung speaks.

"Hello?"

His deep, velvety voice is the first thing Jimin consciously misses. The frantic beating in his chest slows, the words die in his throat and time stops. His trembling finger moves away from the phone and his jaw shakes.

"Hi," he croaks, eyes wide. Something on the other end makes a rustling noise and Taehyung speaks again.

"Who is this?"

Jimin's heartbeat once again achieves a speed beyond average, booming louder than the bass to one of the rap songs Taehyung had made him listen to back then. Anxiety coursed through his veins and reaches out to the tips of his fingers, creating a soft, electric sigh underneath his skin.

"I-I'm," he says, then swallows his heart. "J-Jimin."

The line goes still, still to the point he couldn't even hear breathing on the other end. It's quiet enough for Jimin to hear nausea sloshing back and forth in his head, and he realizes he wants to throw up.

"Am I hearing it right? Could you repeat your name?"

Jimin swallows again and squeezes his eyes shut. "Jimin. Park Jimin."

He hears a soft thump on the other end and a couple of curse words is spat out. "Jimin? As in Jimin from high school?"

Jimin's poor heart seizes. Taehyung won't even refer to him as an ex-boyfriend. "Yeah," he answers, voice wavering. "From high school."

There's a silent realization from Taehyung's side and a soft sigh. "Jimin, my ex, right?"

He should feel relieved that he remembers the relationship being a full-time thing, but he feels like crying even harder. Taehyung had never referred to him as a previous lover after their breakup around him—it's hard to adjust to the new title, Jimin decides.

"That's me."

Everything is quiet and the rest of the world tunes out. Jimin no longer registers the bed under him, the coolness of his unused pillow, or the grey skies. His eyes are closed, thick eyelashes only shielding his vision even more. After all, you can't cry with your eyes closed, can you? "It's been a while," Taehyung murmurs, and Jimin can vividly visualize what he's doing, what he's wearing. Leaning on the balcony rail, overlooking the city. "I-I don't know what I can say. I don't stand in the right place."

The younger wants to cry and is about to cry. The ugly sobs are scratching his throat, slowly rising up. He's ready to cry and yell at Taehyung for breaking his heart, he's ready. He's ready to sob about all the problems he's encountered ever since he left him because it's all Taehyung's fault.

But it's his fault for not moving on, right?

So he cries.

"I-I miss you," he murmurs in the most heart-wrenching way possible, voice muffled and rough. "I miss you so much it hurts."

"I'm not saying this to be stupidly cheesy," he says, desperately trying to keep his mess of emotions in his throat. "I haven't stopped loving you, I—I don't want anyone but you."

"Jimin," he interrupts, but the latter ignores it and continues to mumble on with small beads of tears blurring his vision.

"I don't care if you don't care," he whispers firmly, surprising himself with the absolute tone in his voice. As if he knew that it would hurt even more for Taehyung to say he doesn't want him. "B-but can you please just—"

He thinks of all the things he wants Taehyung to do before he gives himself away to death, all the gestures and sweet nothings that could be murmured into his ear as he drowns and lands in the arms of his grave.

"Come over," he says, almost as silent as the late October breeze that swept all the dead leaves with it, and soon enough, Jimin too.

His heart aches and longs for the warmth of the elder's again, the muscle flexing and threatening to fall apart if he doesn't cough up all he wants to say. His head swims in vertigo and his legs tremble with the irritating feeling of rejection crawling all over.

This was not a good idea—he knows he's going to regret it for sure.

He knows very well that it'll take less time for him to heal if he didn't keep his arm stretched out, expecting Taehyung to hold his hand again and lead him out of the dark.

But he'd rather fuel a fantasy, a reverie, a pipe dream—anything to cope with the heartbreak that seems to only get worse as time drags on with him in tow.

"Come over," he repeats, voice weaker and pleading. "Come over and just...talk me down. Convince me that I should move on."

"Talk you down," Taehyung echoes. "I-I guess. You—you live where now?" There's a faint hint of hesitation hanging onto the tip of his tongue when the words roll off but Jimin doesn't pick up on it.

The tension in his chest loosens slightly. He's relieved almost that he can be free of his deepest, most regretful burden, then carries on peacefully. It'll be much easier to move on if it comes from the boy who broke your heart, he tells himself.

"I'll see you in around an hour, then. Goodbye," he murmurs. The dial tone blares in the younger's ear.

He breathes out and covers his face in frustration, tugging at the ends of his hair.

What has Jimin done? Why couldn't he realize that this would only make him crave him even more, want to touch him, kiss him, hold him?

Time is a cruel being; he takes away lives, love, happiness—but it had been incredibly kind to Taehyung, for he still was the perfect human being in the world even after he changed.

Jimin is far from perfect, but the closest thing to being perfect is to be close to Taehyung. But he shouldn't. He can't.

He throws his phone onto his bed and stumbles into the bathroom with teary eyes and absolutely no will to live. He won't move on. It's impossible for him to move on. Nothing, no force in the universe could tear Jimin from his want—his need for Taehyung.

The bottle of painkillers taunts him, lure him like the seductive whispers that Taehyung once whispered and melted on Jimin's tongue. There are so many easier ways to die than overdose but why does it seem ideal?

The bottle weighs heavy in his palm even though half of it is gone. He lets it slip out of his hand and onto the bathroom tiles, landing with a plastic plink.

No painkiller could fix the ache that grows too tall, coiling around his lungs and throat to choke him. The lachrymose that claws at his heart like a killer's skilled hands, reaching in and leaving gaping, Taehyung-shaped silhouettes in it.

"Please let all this end today," he prays, bare knees against the cold floor. Even though he knows it won't.

【❁】

6:06 p.m.

Taehyung knocks on the door and Jimin reluctantly answers it with trembling arms and legs and a heart beating out of his chest. His hand gripped the door handle firmly, the skin over his knuckles white.

When he finally opens the door, Taehyung looks at him, then looks down. He's clad in a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie and a beanie covering his head. Jimin feels nostalgic and for some reason mocked like Taehyung is telling him that he's not the Taehyung he loved before.

But there's no before if it never ended.

"Hello," Taehyung says, meeting the younger in his faintly bloodshot eyes with hesitation. "May I come in?"

The formality mixed with his deep, silky voice was unusual and unfamiliar, like stepping out of a plane in a foreign country. "Yeah. Come in. You can leave your shoes on the rack."

Taehyung does as he is told and timidly trails behind Jimin into the small living room where he was seated on a couch, knees hugged to his chest. "You can sit here."

Neither of them expected it to be this awkward.

"How was the traffic?" Jimin helplessly asks, weakly attempting to maintain eye contact.

Taehyung shrugs. "It was...okay, I guess. Not much traffic in this neighborhood."

"Oh."

"So...you said you wanted me to convince you to move on from me?"

Jimin nods slowly. "It'll be easier if you're the one telling me," he lies. Taehyung nods as well, understanding.

"Um. So, reason number one you should on from me: I broke up with you first, if I remember correctly," he quickly blurts.

Like a soft punch to Jimin's stomach.

"Yeah, you did," he murmurs, trying to conceal the hurt laced with his words. "Go on. Don't make me stop you."

"Reason number two, I took you for granted. My mistake, by the way. I shouldn't have believed that you were always going to stay, and I ended up leaving you."

The confessions hurt a lot more now, falling out of Taehyung's pale pink lips with no real sorrow in his voice, no apology in it. He sounded too bright, like a volunteer worker at a hospital saying that everything would turn out fine just to get it over with.

The reasons continue to drag on in a list that goes up to reason number 73, which turns into a trip down memory lane. Taehyung seems to be running out of ideas and reasons why, because the last one he just listed was "I took ten dollars from your wallet to buy ramen once in 2010".

Jimin's feels hurt but also feels some comfort; he's hurt that Taehyung did all those things behind his back but at the same time, it's comforting to hear his quirky stories and all the details of their previous relationship. A sad smile paints his face as he listens to the elder ramble on aimlessly and the sound of his heart breaking a little more.

"Reason number seventy-four," he huffs, hand casually resting on Jimin's knee. "I bought a Bigbang album for you but I ended up keeping it for myself."

Jimin sighs. "Taehyung, it's almost 7:30 pm," he mumbles. "I appreciate this, really, but it's not necessary for you to continue. I'll move on—"

"You have to let me finish the next one," he insists in a tone that reminded him of the times he would binge-watch an entire anime and Jimin would advise him to finish later.

"Fine," is his answer and what he'd end up saying to him.

"Reason number seventy-five. Have you considered..." he trails off, turning his head completely to lock eyes with the younger. "Not moving on?"

"Are you kidding me?" Jimin is lovesick and tired of all the bullshit that's been thrown at him. Truthfully, though, he's tired of existing and hoping that he'll get better when he's only falling deeper into the mess. "Taehyung, I made it clear enough that my goal was to move on. If you don't understand, please leave my home before it becomes even harder—"

And then Taehyung's lips meet Jimin's softly.

A chaste, innocent kiss that still manages to burn his lips and set fire to his chest. It shocks him and surprises him, then he realizes how much he wanted this.

He responds in a fraction of a second, slowly leaning into him with his hands pressed firmly to the floor. His moans betray him, subtly slipping out and into Taehyung's mouth.

There's absolutely no moving on once Jimin falls into the endless pit of desperation and hunger for the elder.

"Taehyung, I-I—," he softly hums, relishing in the warm, wet kisses the elder absent-mindedly places along the slope of his prominent collarbone. Confusion glazes over his mind and being, fogging his vision and thoughts. His hands slide down Taehyung's taut bicep and intertwine his fingers with his own.

Taehyung leaves silk-like kisses down his neck, pushes Jimin down under him and pins his hands above his head. Jimin doesn't object as he continues to tug on the elder's bottom lip, hanging onto him by a thread. Taehyung's slender fingers trace over Jimin's cheek scar and he is slung straight into nostalgia.

"Minniekie, where did this come from?" Taehyung had asked on their first official date, gently poking the pale dent on his cheek. The younger responded with a giggle and answered, "I fought with my brother over a game when I was little. Didn't end well."

A fight for dominance, perhaps, but all he knows is that Jimin never once tried to object to his own dominant nature.

Taehyung's lips now ghost over to a slightly exposed part of his chest, instantly reminding Jimin of the nights that the elder fell asleep with his face snuggled into him, his soft exhales warming it. The contrast is almost painful—what once used to be innocent now turned to keen desire that melded with lust and the clashing of their tongues.

"J-Jimin," Taehyung murmurs against his lips. "W-Where's the bedroom?"

The three words send an extra surge down his spine and he lifts his chin up from where he had tucked it into Taehyung's neck, uttering an 'over there' with his neck outstretched in the general direction. The connection breaks with the younger desperately trying to keep the contact, the craving that tingles in his lips now blazing.

Taehyung picks him up with his arms and hands around his thighs, firmly gripping his legs and wrapping them around his waist so the younger could drown in another kiss. Jimin makes a satisfied noise, gratification bleeding into his mouth when Taehyung's tongue curls around his. The elder's hands grasp his ass and trigger another delighted moan. Jimin's hand slides down Taehyung's chest to clutch at his hoodie, softly whining into his mouth when he feels pressure again.

He can't stop walking further into the trap and getting lost in the corridors of Taehyung's endless, intoxicating warmth. Every fragment of the universe is telling him to get out as soon as he can, but he simply ignores the warnings and dives straight in. It's risky; putting all your remaining feelings on the line. Jimin is going to die anyway, so the importance of anything that isn't the elder's lips continuously nipping at his Adam's apple goes to waste.

The heat of the hickeys are feverish but chills wash over him again when he's pressed against the cold, painted-white door with his shirt hiked up halfway. A smug smile paints his lips when he finds the door handle and pushes down on it, not once leaving Taehyung's reddened mouth.

Fuck butterflies , Jimin thinks as Taehyung gently lets go of his thighs. It was an endless fire that ignited in the pit of his stomach, burning away any common sense, any realistic, logical thoughts. He should be burning pictures, letters, deleting texts but instead, he's burning himself in the devilish sultriness of the elder's bewitching touch.

"Jimin," he hums his name like a forbidden melody. The younger groans in response and registers Taehyung's warm hands stroking his sides. His fingers trace the outline of every rib, down to his hip bone.

The reminiscence comes back, evoking the memory of prom night. Taehyung held onto his hips while they rocked back and forth, the world drowning out in their giggles as if they were the only couple on the dance floor. Everything was so pure and perfect, with nothing miserable to look out for.

Dancing turned to their first time as soon as they slipped under the sheets that night. It was immature and awkward but sweet, gentle and slow because anyone would've believed they had all the time in the world.

Jimin wants to laugh because five years later, they're still caught up in the same situation, only with an ear-splitting clock ticking, skipping hours and minutes and rushing the seconds.

Taehyung sensually tugs at the younger's shirt and nibbles on his earlobe, "D-Do you want this?"

No, Jimin should be saying, yelling at Taehyung to get out of his life and let him die somewhat peacefully. Should be shrieking at Taehyung to tell him that he's the whole reason why he's suffering, why he's unable to sustain himself.

"Yes," the word tumbles from his lips the way a sinner would confess. The word is so dirty when it rolls off his tongue, but when Taehyung presses his lips to his again he's clean and forgiven.

His white shirt is gone and his love bitten chest is exposed to Taehyung like an artist uncovering their latest creation. The elder glances at the smooth canvas and the deep purples that littered it and smiles, because there's no other masterpiece he could be prouder of.

Jimin lies down on his bed and they pause, just a few pants that separated them from total silence. "W-When's the last time you had—"

"Last week," he mumbles shamefully, looking down with his eyelashes fanned out. The latter makes a quiet, dissatisfied noise but presses his lips to the column of his throat.

Taehyung's lips connect to his ribcage, skimming over every up and down and pressing iron-hot kisses that remind him of the way his ribcage was poked when Taehyung complained that he was too bony and that he should eat more.

Jimin continues to breathlessly moan when his large hands slide up and down his torso, the heat in his pants growing unbearable. His lips are slick with saliva and his tongue slides out to lick them again.

Taehyung's fingers are hooked around the belt loops of Jimin's black jeans, slowly inching to the zipper that concealed his growing erection. Jimin groans and sobs at the delicious heat of Taehyung's breath fanning his v-line.

The younger's hands move to undo the zipper himself but his wrists are held onto and placed at his sides. Taehyung stares up intently at him, eyes glazing over how hungry he was, how much he had been starving for his touch, his kisses, his embrace—

"You look absolutely gorgeous, even after all this time," he whispers, letting go of his hands, pulling down the zipper and snapping the waistband of his boxers. Jimin groans at the partial liberation and at the contact of elastic. "I daresay even more handsome."

Jimin shudders at the praise and slips his boxers off, the fabric pooling at his feet. The elder takes note of his boner and his own then smiles suggestively.

Taehyung also gets to throwing his hoodie off and discarding the layers of clothing, carelessly tossing everything onto the floor then pushing the younger back down to lock lips again. Saliva dribbles down his chin in messy strings, leaking into Jimin's mouth who doesn't seem to mind at all.

There's the crinkling sound of plastic and foil when he withdraws a square wrapper and tears it, revealing a condom. "Where's the lube?" Taehyung moans, feeling Jimin's fingers slide down his abdomen to wipe the precome from his cock and another stuttered wail escapes from his lips. Jimin juts his chin out to the nightstand on the left side of the bed but grabs the bottle before Taehyung could. Taehyung then slides the plastic on smoothly and takes the lube with trembling hands.

The bottle cap pops open with a small click and the elder wordlessly pours some onto his hand. Jimin's heart hammers at a fleeting pace when he's told to lay on his stomach.

"I'm gonna prep you, 'kay?" Taehyung whispers, hands nearing Jimin's entrance. The younger whines when two fingers penetrate him; Taehyung soothes him with a chaste kiss.

Jimin's breaths are staggered and uneven, followed by low, guttural moans. Taehyung eventually adds a third finger whilst watching the latter squirm and cry under him. Jimin's back arches and the pleasure builds up at the pit of his stomach and his hand snakes around his cock to jerk himself off, but Taehyung stops him.

"F-Fuck me, p-please," Jimin cries, the orgasm dissipating and fading. The elder sighs softly against the curve of his hip and his hands hold his hips in place.

"Are you sure?"

" Yes ," he groans so easily, the thought of getting over the boy completely erasing itself from his mind and heart. Taehyung aligns himself with Jimin's entrance and his fingers brush over his torso again.

While Taehyung eases himself in, Jimin feels torn apart between heaven and hell, life and death, staying or leaving. The pressure between his hips delivers a broken sob and sweet murmurs from the elder. When he thrusts again, he sees a flash of white and the creased sheets under him. His fingers curl around the duvet as he moans breathlessly, untangling and unraveling every sin, every inch of him.

Taehyung picks up his speed, hips digging into Jimin's back with every drive and creating a lewd slap. He moans in baritone stutters whilst thrusting in and out with little effort. More moans clouded his throat, a few of them dripping from his lips in hoarse whispers.

"Jimin...turn around, please," he gasps, pausing. "I-I want to see your face."

If someone asked Jimin why he isn't moving on tonight, it's because Taehyung's hands still know how to comfort him and get him off; it's because his lips still know how to kiss every inch of him in torturously pleasurable ways.

So he flips onto his back with pain and pleasure drew onto his face and groans entangled with his breaths. Jimin tilts his head back and whines loudly again. Taehyung shudders a little and the younger covers his mouth, blushing a light shade of red.

"Fuck, no. I want—want to hear you," he stutters, lifting his hand from his pursed lips. He dips in and presses a sultry kiss to the soft slope in between his collarbones and soaking up the warm, heavy breaths that tumbled out of the younger's mouth.

At a particular push, Jimin cries a string of curses and whimpers helplessly into the curve of Taehyung's shoulder and digs his nails into the pristine flesh of his back. The elder smirks and rams again to stimulate his prostate. Jimin's bottom lip gets caught under his teeth as he tries to keep in every uncontrollable sound and the blissful feeling that kept rolling into him.

The cries that follow only get Taehyung off, even more, thrusting harder and faster. "I'm s-so close ," Jimin sobs with his arms wrapped around the latter's neck. Taehyung grunts and feels the orgasm intensify as Jimin moans in slurred staccatos.

Jimin screams when the pleasure reaches his peak, back arching sublimely while Taehyung struggles to keep his pace, the propulsions growing weaker and sloppier when he feels the younger clench around his cock. Taehyung bends forward to swallow the younger's cries and burns his neck with open-mouthed kisses.

Strings of white splatter onto his pelvis and abdomen, as well as Jimin's. With a couple more thrusts, Taehyung releases as well, a jolt of warmth coursing through the boy under him. He breathes heavily in time to Jimin's pillow-muffled groans of ecstasy then presses another kiss, softer this time, to his jaw.

Upon pulling out, Jimin's heart pummels way too rapidly for its own good—like it's trying to run to Taehyung. As he falls from the high, as the fog clears, Jimin regrets more and more.

He fucked up; there's nothing clearer than that. Taehyung's arm lies over his sticky abdomen and breathes against his bare back. The sensation is comforting and familiar, but he can't trust him again. He wants him, wants him so bad but he knows he can't have him again. Jimin is broken to the point beyond his limit and he took it all, but he isn't going to take any more. He can't unload his burdens on Taehyung because he can't commit and stay to heal him. He can't stay with him for more than tonight because he'll only get his heart broken again.

"Jimin," Taehyung hoarsely whispers, scooting closer to him and sliding an arm around his waist protectively. "I'm so sorry."

Daring himself, he answers, "What for?"

A pair of lips is pressed to his shoulder blade. "I-I shouldn't have left you. I'm so sorry Minniekie, I was stupid."

The old nickname is both the sweet warmth of hot cocoa and the stinging burn of spilled coffee. He seems so genuine, so real, but the facade is too obvious for someone not to notice.

If he can pretend, then so can I . He smiles sadly and turns around to face Taehyung whose eyes glistened in the pale moonlight that lit up his room dully. For a millisecond, it'd looked like tears was streaming down his face, but Jimin only believes it to be a trick of the light. It doesn't stop his feelings from going awry again—his heart slows and beats in agony and pity at the sight. His blonde locks framed his milky, luminous skin and a small pink triangle darts out to lick his vermillion lips.

He's too perfect, the kind of perfect their relationship was. It's impossible that he had no flaws since he was a compulsive liar but his masquerade fooled him completely. He possessed so much power over him, put a blindfold on him and lied and led him to the edge.

"I'm so sorry," he sobs, burying his face into the crook of Jimin's neck, a wet feeling painting his clavicle. "I can never forgive myself for leaving you like that. God, I was an idiot. I shouldn't have acted that way. I don't know what I was thinking to leave you in the most asshole way possible."

"I-I just want to let you know," he murmurs, wiping a tear. "That no matter who I tried to date, no one was as perfect as you. I couldn't stop comparing everyone to you because, fuck, you're too good for me, for this world. Jimin, my timing is absolutely horrible, but can we start over?"

His timing is indeed terrible because Jimin already estimated the exact time the painkillers were going to drag him into peaceful darkness. He didn't have a minute to lose, nor did he want to lose time.

"Yes," he murmurs, his hands moving to caress the elder's face. "You have no idea how much I've missed you, too." It pains Jimin as to how much he really wanted to say it truthfully.

Taehyung cups Jimin's face and kisses him softly—the way he kissed him in high school. Slow, sweet enough to make his toes curl and for him to squirm. The kiss is nostalgic, full of time they've lost and all the wonderful memories in between. "I promise that I'll never leave you again," he breathes, choking a little. "Let's be together again, yeah?"

It's all a lie. Jimin hears the falseness, the uncertainty in his wavering voice. His chest aches in response, the geniality crumbling down to burden him even more.

"I won't leave you either," Jimin lies, so convincingly that even he believes a little. With a serene smile, he brushes his lips against the elder's forehead and inaudibly murmurs,

"I'm sorry, too."

2:49 a.m.

His final hours were, to say the very least, peaceful.

His chest felt lighter than usual, his head no longer pounded. Taehyung was fast asleep.

A handful of pills sat in his sweaty palm and he counted them to make sure he had the correct amount. Ten extra-strength Tylenol pills will surely offer an endless slumber.

It's sad how no true love's kiss can wake him up from his death.

One by one, the pills trickle down his throat and so does his glass of water and dose of NyQuil. His head starts screaming at him too, to stop destroying himself and just carry on. But he would much rather die because of himself rather than die because of Kim Taehyung.

Although he is dying because of him anyways.

His heart strains a little, like a weak plea even though it's aware that it's a lost cause. Jimin fights the urge to cry when the last pill goes down his oropharynx.

Now for the letter.

He drags himself out of the kitchen and back into his bedroom where Taehyung slept in a fetal position, a trace of happiness on his lips and in the blush on his cheeks. Every so often, Jimin hears a soft snore and it only hurts more to write the letter.

The pen in his hand scrawls in loops, straight lines, and slopes. The words don't flow as easily as he would've hoped. It always seemed easy in movies so why couldn't it be the same for him?

People can sustain relationships for a long time, so why couldn't he?

The letter ends up being shorter than he'd expected. Nonetheless, his thoughts and feelings were transcribed clearly and his tears splattered the corner of the paper. It's enough, he decides. He folds the paper crisply in rough, uneven folds due to his trembling hands. The letter is left on the nightstand as he climbs into bed and faces Taehyung's back.

Both their bodies were no doubt dotted with multiple hickeys. If Jimin had the time, he would trace every constellation on the latter's back and kiss even more stars onto him.

With an exhale, he soaks in every detail he possibly can before his eyes flutter close.

10:23 a.m.

When Taehyung wakes up, Jimin is long gone. He originally woke up happily, blinking away the memories from last night when his eyes opened.

Jimin slept like the dead, was his first thought. He brushes a lock of hair out of his eyes and silently admires his serenity. He yawns and giggles, "He's mine again."

Taehyung, in secret, had been yearning for Jimin as well but he couldn't go back to him if he was the one that called it off. As a result, he stayed true to his untrue word and dated a handful of people, all who were good, kind people but not quite Jimin.

He spots all the hickeys that trailed along the exposed side of his body, the ones on his shoulder blade, the ones that filled every dip in his ribcage, the ones that lay on the curve of his hipbone. He smiles again, heart fluttering, and sits up.

"Get up, Jimin," he whines softly, poking the cheek scar softly. Taehyung expects some sort of warmth, but his skin is ice cold to the touch. "Christ, Minniekie. You're freezing."

His hands smooth over the rest of his torso and he's still cold all over; as if his circulation just cut off. Taehyung holds his breath when he puts a hand on the spot above his heart, but his own frantic heart beating is louder.

"Goddammit, where's his pulse? His pulse, his pulse—" he mutters in fear. His hand flies to a spot just under his defined, structured jaw and desperately hopes that something, anything, will thrum vividly under his skin.

It's still as cold as everywhere else, like an unwelcomed frostbite during brutal winters. He waits and waits for a heartbeat, listening for any inhales or exhales.

It never arrives. Taehyung is even more worried now, heart beating erratically and sweat collecting in between his fingers and all over his palms. "No, no, no," he mutters mostly to himself, slowly shaking Jimin.

There's absolutely no response; not even a puff of air, or a flutter of his eyelashes. His body is still and cool against Taehyung's lively skin.

"No, Jimin, wake up!" Taehyung yells a little louder this time, scrambling around for his phone or Jimin's phone, even. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows slant in confusion and fear.

He rummages through the nightstand on his side, finding no more than the bottle of lube from last night and a few broken pencils. Jimin still hasn't responded and the room is eerily quiet, save for Taehyung's irregular heartbeat and his quiet mumbles.

When he gets to the other side of the bed, a folded sheet of paper lays at the base of the lamp with the words 'to Taehyung' printed neatly on the visible fold. "What in the...?"

He snatches it and unfolds it roughly and his eyes immediately notice the first sentence and the loopy, elegant signature at the bottom of the page.

"Dear Taehyung? For me?"

His lips form the correct shapes to read and enunciate every single word with caution.

Dear Taehyung,

It is most definitely not easy to write everything I want to say since there's too much and I'm not in the clearest state of mind.

You broke up with me five years ago. November 14, 2011, the worst day of my entire existence. You left me there on the gravel path with nothing but dead leaves to keep me company and soothe my broken heart.

I hated you every single day. You were so important to me. It was practically an instinct to be with you. You tore yourself out, leaving me to adapt and heal on my own.

Today, you came back to tell me you are sorry, that you were stupid to break up with me—but how do I know it's true?

You promised a forever when we first dated but that clearly didn't last. You promised again. Am I to trust you again and risk my barely healed heart?

I wish I could believe you. I wish my heart were capable of forgiving and moving on, but it cannot. I wish I could hold hands with you and see what's in store for us, but there's no me in your future.

I can't come back to you. Consider this as my move-on. I, Park Jimin, shall no longer exist as of October 28, 2017. And I, Park Jimin, promise that I'll hold onto the memory of you through whatever comes after death.

I'm sorry.

Yours truly,

Jimin

"G-Minniekie," he stutters quietly. How could Taehyung have selfishly hoped for Jimin to write a better letter, like all the tear-jerking notes in films and other unfortunate love stories? He slumps, staring at the paper in his hands then looking back at Jimin's very not alive body.

"J-Jimin," he whispers softly, his nose burning with the sensation of crying. Tears pool into his eyes and his heart tightens. Even in death , Taehyung found the curve of his nose, innocent cupid's bow, and his long, thick eyelashes so painstakingly beautiful. He whimpers and covers his mouth with a hand then cups Jimin's face with the other.

He throws on Jimin's shirt and his own hoodie at an alarming speed and shoves the letter into the pocket. His phone lays under his sweatpants and he snatches it, immediately dialing the emergency number.

"Hello? 119? I'm reporting a s-suicide," he mumbles, whimpering at 'suicide'. A tear falls out and he inhales a deep breath before explaining, "I don't know how. I'm at the Sun Apartments building, just off—yeah, yeah. Fourth floor, 424. Th-thank you."

Taehyung's staring at his screen long after the emergency operator had hung up, hiccuping. He wasn't focused on anything in particular, other than Jimin's cold skin that brushed against his neck when he lies down.

When he turns to look at him again, everything makes so much sense that it hurts to believe it's true. His lips are pale but still have indents in its skin from where Taehyung had bitten. His base of his neck was a ghastly, dark shade of blue and so was his spine, his legs, and arms. His face was a sickly yellow tint blended in with his tan skin.

"I'm so, so sorry," he cries, putting a hand over the younger's chest and one on his own. There's nothing that he can say to fix this. There's nothing left to hope about. Nothing left to look forward to, nothing left to feel other than sadness. Everything is blurry in his eyes, melancholy swirling around in his upper body as the ringing in his ears grows louder, singing a sad buzz. "I should've come back to you before it was too late. Fuck that, I never should've broken up with you."

Jimin doesn't respond, nor will he ever.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you," he mumbles, holding his head in his hands. "I'm sorry I wasn't here in time. I'm sorry I didn't stay when I had the chance."

Shortly after, the police had arrived, knocking abruptly on the door. A few questions were asked to Taehyung and he couldn't stop crying. The apartment was searched, a couple of items thrown into individual Ziploc bags for inspection.

"Kid, did he leave a note or anything?" an officer asks while setting down another bag of evidence. "A letter explaining why he did it?"

Taehyung nods weakly, "It's for me, though. I-I don't want to...lose his last words to me." His hands slide into his pocket and they wrap around the paper, crinkling it a little. The officer nods then mutters, "We don't need it for a long time. We just need to analyze the—"

"Then photocopy it," he answers gruffly, turning the other way. "I can scan it and bring it to the station, you know."

"We need to analyze the content as well as the material itself. It could help us find a time and a deeper explanation of his death," he explains again.

"Just—just analyze his stomach contents or something. If you can find a cause of death you can also find the time of death, right?"

The officer sighs like he's given up, or because he pitied Taehyung. "Very well. If we are unable to find anything in the corpse, we'll have to contact you. Have a good day, kid. Sorry for your loss." He pats him on the back gently and tells the others to pack it up.

He turns around again, "The ambulance arrived and are transporting his body to the morgue. You're his boyfriend, right? They said you can ride in the ambulance if you'd like."

The words are like an arrow to the heart, a slap to the face and a knife in the back. Boyfriend. Something that he used to be, someone that used to exist. Something he could only hope to be in the next life. Something he could only reminisce about his past life. A word that won't be transcribed onto Jimin's gravestone. After all, after his second attempt, he still didn't get to be his lover and neither did he.

"I'm not," Taehyung says, fingers trembling around the letter in his pocket. "I'm nobody."

fin

Notes:

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