Jungkook p.o.v

blue and pink,

--

"No."

I whispered to the tear-stained letter of his, feeling shivers resonate up and down my cold body, breathing choked and uneasy.

I looked at the pressed flower that had been placed there two years ago by him.

A forget me not.

"No, no. . ."

My hands were shaking and I could feel something rising up my throat. 

I let the flower slip through my fingers and tried to quickly get up with something coming up my throat.

My vision was blurry and I felt as if the world around me was going in and out of focus. My breathing refused to come naturally and I was suffocating on my tears and pain.

I stumbled through the bathroom door and faced the toilet, retching and puking my insides out.

It hurt, oh God, it hurt so fucking much.

Not the vomit that caused me to stumble back and press my face against the cold linoleum tile,

but the thought that Jimin didn't want me to stop him from committing suicide.

I dug my fingernails into my shivering arms, pressing and digging furiously into my skin to wake up if this was a dream.

But I didn't wake up; it wasn't a fucking dream.

Two years ago, when my back was soaked with snow, two years ago, when a red haired boy made me wish that everything was a dream. Two years ago, when my bare knees were digging into the cold street walk and I was praying to something, someone, that my grey sky would become blue again.

And now, two years later, it still wasn't a dream.

The pain only further felt like abuse, but it was incomparable to the pain of having such thoughts; that perhaps, I would have to live in a cold cruel world without Park Jimin.

"W-what am I. . . thinking?" I hiccuped through sobs.

Had I already decided I was going to let him do that?

I need you in my life, Jimin. I need you here for when my sky becomes grey and I need blue. I need you here for when these flowers lose their colour and I need blue. I need you here for when this sea of life becomes dark and black and I need blue. I need you here for when my hands are covered in red anger and green envy and losing happiness because I need blue.

I need you, oh so much.

I beat my fist on the tile over and over, not caring that it was bruising and would later hurt with the explosions of blue and pink and purple.

But that didn't matter because nothing would compare to the pain of losing someone who didn't want to be found ever again.

You're blue, Jimin, oh so blue, but this pink wasn't supposed to mix with you. I wanted to paint you into my life, I wanted to re-create the masterpiece called you, I wanted to equally place my pink lips on your blue ones and make this love lilac. But there's more of me and less of you and all this love would be is purple, leaving no trace of you.

I closed my sweaty eyelids and gulped the bitter saliva which kept rising in my mouth.

This world was cruel, this life was cruel, this fate was cruel.

And in that dark, cold bathroom, I cried and screamed and wailed and sobbed,

while over and over, asking the word,

why?

》

I don't know how long I cried and lay there on that floor, but when the thought that Jimin would be home soon hit me, I turned on my side and tried to get up.

You're so blue.

My limbs were aching and I could hear my bones snapping, as I crawled to his bedroom.

It smelled like him; like explosions of all shades of blue.

He didn't make me see colours; he made me feel them.

The rain was falling down slowly now and I sat in front of the two notebooks, still sprawled where I had hurriedly left them.

I'm so pink.

Numb. That's all I was. 

The bruises had blossomed along my knuckles, first pink and then blue. And I knew that by the time the rain would kiss goodbye to its window's glass, it would have flowered purple - something our love could never.

The blue of the forget me not, the blue of the bruises, the blue of the sky which slowly spread like paint and tears, the blue of Park Jimin that indeed was everywhere - and his pink couldn't.

Because his pink was so afraid of living in a world without its blue. 

How could this pink continue to live and grow on cherry blossoms under a sky that wasn't blue?

But perhaps that's why the two colours are so far away on the visible spectrum for humans, perhaps that's why blue isn't pink's complimentary colour and pink isn't blue's complimentary colour because the two are never meant to meet - never meant to mix.

And so when I heard the apartment door unlock and Yoongi's voice had called out, indicating him and Jimin were back,

I clutched the forget me not and hid it in the centre of my sweaty palm,

and I closed both the notebooks and placed them inside the drawer,

we're so far,

pretending as if I'd never read them.

--

make lilac.