Jimin used to believe in fairytales, in fairies with transparent wings and soft glows around their tiny bodies, little gnomes with sour scowls and pointy hats. He even used to believe that if he looked outside through his bedroom window long enough, perhaps he would catch a glimpse of a vampire whooshing past or even the glowing amber eyes of a werewolf peering back at him from between the trees of the forest outside.

These little trails of imagination Jimin's youth left behind, was what brushed away the jagged scars of reality that stretched across his skin. With every moan his mother released from the room beside his, Jimin was tugged a bit deeper into his imagination- allowing him to believe that instead of being pleasured by a man, Jimin's mother was a powerful sorceress performing blood rituals on their kidnapped neighbours.

These thoughts shouldn't have brought him comfort, shouldn't have made him snicker and giggle to himself as he tapped his fingers against his window and imagined that the moans he heard, were wrapped in a blanket of pain, not pleasure. But they did. And Jimin won't apologise for it, since they had shielded him from the rougher parts of the world, only to allow him to catch a glimpse of the more disturbing images of reality.

But nothing in life lasts for long.

Kids grow out of their favourite pairs of sneakers and leave their stuffed animals in their shelves to dust, or teenagers are forced to pack their bags and create their own homes kilometres away from their old ones. Change is inevitable, but Jimin had never been prepared for watching his imaginary world crumble into jagged pieces of glass and be left behind for him to collect.

The fateful day he had lost his balance and toppled over the fence keeping him inside the glittery world built in his mind, Jimin had inhaled the wind prancing around him like an excited puppy and tasted the tint of saltiness on his tongue. He had never expected for the day to get twisted and moulded until it no longer resembled the fairytale it presented itself as.

Jimin could still remember rushing into the azure sea with the waves tangling between his legs, he could remember the pebbles of sand pushing against the soles of his feet and whining in protest at the weight placed on them, he could remember the heat of the sun dragging its nails down his shoulders and leaving behind marks of red.

Jimin remembered it all.

Remembered being swept off of his feet and under the blanket of an oncoming wave. He remembered being passed from a wave to a wave with each one hugging him tighter and tighter. He remembered the oxygen scratching at the inside of his lungs as it begged to be let out, the salt chewing at his eyes and the rough sand dragging over his skin.

Jimin remembered it all, remembered being pushed against the ground and held hostage by another large wave. Remembered complying with the demand of his lungs by breathing in a breath of salty water, remembered the bubbles floating above him until they breached the shimmering surface of the sea.

But most of all, Jimin remembered thinking of a blood-thirsty siren that would appear from the darkest corners of the sea and tug him out of the tight grip of water. Even in his last moments, Jimin remembered hoping to be saved by a creature who's only desire was to feast on the flesh of a man, and yet, Jimin was not scared, not even if her breath would reek of flesh and death, even if her fingers would be stained with the blood of those she had killed.

Jimin would not be afraid, he would hope, hope that she'd offer to take him with her and teach him how to be like her- strong, powerful, feared.

Yet the help he received didn't come in the form of a fictional, bloodthirsty being, but rather a mere mortal man who had witnessed Jimin being swept away and had come to his rescue. And years later, as Jimin reminisced the traumatising event that had shown him that life was not splattered with the glittery blood of his imagination, yet had been cracked and ripped apart by the vicious reality, he realised that the siren that taught him how to be powerful, was masked in the form of a mere human.

Perhaps the memory Jimin had been wrapped up in could not be matched with the current predicament he was in. But, as he felt the lightest brush of Yoongi's lips against his own and the touch of his pale fingers against the warm skin of his hip, Jimin found something comforting in the familiarity of the situation. Because as he was sinking deeper into Yoongi's embrace and curling his fingers tighter around his shirt, Jimin had not been expecting to hear the sound of a gunshot. Nor had he been expecting for searing pain to erupt from his chest and spread through the rest of his body like wildfire.

Jimin could only gasp against Yoongi's lips as his mind was covered in a fog off pain before pulling away with a small pop. Raven lashes fluttered against Jimin's cheekbones and a stuttered breath puffed out of his lips, his legs went numb and would've crumbled underneath his weight if it wasn't for the pale arm looping around his waist to hold him up.

And when Jimin's honeycomb eyes dragged away from Yoongi's saliva coated lips and climbed over his nose until he could peer into the two pools of whiskey, Jimin wasn't met with wide eyes filled with concern, rather Yoongi's look of indifference towards the gunshot as if he wasn't surprised by it. That's when Jimin's head tilted down until his chin pressed against his chest and his eyes found the warm gun grasped between Yoongi's fingers. The gun that released its last huff of breath in the form of a string of smoke, the gun that was pressed against the hole spluttering out blood.

"Y...Yoongi.." Jimin barely managed to press his tongue against the back of his teeth to create the hushed whisper of the man's name. Jimin's eyes lingered on the gun before flickering over to the hole in his shirt- a bit lower than where his heart was supposed to be thrumming.

And that's when the reality crashed down on him, along with the pain and dizziness walking hand-in-hand with the wound he was gifted.

The pain blooming from Jimin's chest spread its thorny vines throughout his limbs. They curled tightly around his ankles and wrists until Jimin could no longer feel his little toes, causing his legs to crumble under his weight. And as Jimin began to fall to the ground with a shirt soaked in blood and a hole in his chest from the bullet of Yoongi's gun, his honeycomb eyes found comfort in the blue sky hanging over his head and the fluffy clouds swimming past the gleaming sun.

Before Jimin's back could collide with the ground and head could smack against the gravel road, Yoongi was quick to catch him and lower his body into his lap. But what he could not stop from falling were the crystalline tears chewing at the corners of Jimin's eyes and rolling down his cheeks, they left behind glimmering paths of silver on his cheeks and the taste of salt on his tongue- just like the day when he had almost drowned.

"Jimin."

A murmur of his name was what threw a lasso around the last snippets of Jimin's attention and pulled him out of the fog of dizziness he was trapped in. Jimin's mind was fuzzy, not yet being able to wrap around the realisation that Yoongi had shot him and he was slowly bleeding out. And when his chin was grabbed and head was tilted into Yoongi's direction, Jimin struggled to focus on the cat-like features hovering above his own.

"I'm sorry."

No great speech, no deep words of wisdom or heartfelt goodbyes would be the ones to guide Jimin into the afterlife. Just a mere mumble of I'm sorry as if these words would comfort Jimin and make him feel better about slowly bleeding out in Yoongi's arms, as if they would redeem Yoongi in Jimin's eyes after he had shot him without a hint of hesitation.

They won't.

Jimin struggled to move his numb fingers, despite feeling like he had dipped them into a bucket of iced water. He still tried, tried twitching them and shifting his arm until it lifted and pressed against Yoongi's chest. He pushed against him, tried to shove him off with tears rolling over his cheeks and joined the blood soaking into Yoongi's clothes.

"Get..." Jimin croaked with his limp tongue barely gliding along the roof of his mouth and weak fist hitting against Yoongi's chest, "Away!" Jimin's hostile hiss was followed closely by a gasp of pain. He could feel the flower of life in his chest get tainted with pain, not only from the pain of the gunshot, that slowly seeped into numbness, but the pain of the realisation that Yoongi had actually pulled the trigger and shot him, "Get away!" Jimin repeated once more through a choked sob.

Obsidian glossed over the corners of his eyes and floated over Yoongi's pinched features, the pain in his chest had turned into a soft buzz of numbness and everything around him blended into an unrecognisable mush. He could no longer feel his legs as if they had been cut off and dumped in a freezing river in the middle of the winter. And despite the fiery ball of red hanging over his head, Jimin was cold, so so cold.

He was dying. Jimin knew that much, he wished he didn't know it, and a part of him wished that this was some sort of illusion his mind had made up while he was kissing Yoongi. But he knew that this time, his imagination and blissful ignorance wouldn't save him from the harsh grip of reality.

Jimin was dying and there was nothing he could do about it, unless Yoongi decided to have a change of heart and save him. But Jimin knew that that wouldn't happen, not with the way Yoongi was staring down at him as if he, too, had already accepted Jimin's death before he had even died.

No matter how much Jimin pretended or tried to shield himself from the truth, Jimin couldn't deny the sharp claws of terror sinking into his skin and ripping out chunks of flesh. He used to believe that he feared nothing, not even death once it came for him. But now, when it was looming over him with a gaze of indifference painted across its pale face as it waited for Jimin's eyes to dim and his soul to be sucked out of his body, Jimin realised that he was scared.

He didn't want to die, Jimin had no idea what would happen after his life would get extinguished, but he knew that he didn't deserve to wake up in a field of flowers and be covered in a veil of sunlight, he wasn't a good person and hadn't done any deeds that would reserve him a spot in heaven. Perhaps eternal torture would be more fitting for everything he had done? A void of nothingness that he would float through as he pondered over all the crimes he had committed? Perhaps even reliving his life over and over again in an never-ending circle of agony? If Jimin had to choose, he would choose being snapped out of existence completely. No thoughts, no memories, just swept away as if he never existed. But that was too good for a person like Jimin, even he could admit that.

Just like he could admit that he was scared, not only of the unknown, but of not being able to say goodbye to Seokjin and Taehyung. Especially since he and Taehyung had fought in their last moments together, and he and Jin haven't seen each other in nearly two weeks. Jimin wished to go back in time and spend more time with Jin, even if it was sneaking into his bed at night and cuddling up to his snoring body, even if it was just sitting next to him and listening to him ramble about how horrible movies were nowadays. Jimin wished he had spent more time with his Hyung because, now, it had all spilled out and even their last goodbyes had been stolen away from them.

And with Taehyung, Jimin wished he had seen it sooner- Taehyung's desire to leave and seek out his other dreams. Perhaps then they wouldn't have fought, perhaps then they would've been able to support each other and been there for each other. Jimin wished he had the opportunity to see Taehyung leave the gang behind and fall in love with life once again. Perhaps Jimin even wished he was able to crash Taehyung's wedding, eat a bunch of cake and get drunk on champagne, then give a bomb ass speech about their assassin times as the other guests watched him in confusion- not knowing that the stories weren't just a drunk man's tales.

But once again, Jimin knew he would miss it all and perhaps the best thing that could happen to him after dying, was to be able to travel the world as a ghost, and watch his best friends live long and happy lives until they join him in the afterlife.

Jimin knew that this was another droplet of imagination that had sank into his thoughts and tainted them a bright shade of pink. He was aware that the reality was much more bitter than he had just painted in his mind. He wasn't surrounded by Taehyung's soft cries of grief and boxy smile or Seokjin's comforting embrace, he was surrounded by the shadows cast by empty woods and faceless men that would spit on his body after he was dead.

It made him wonder if Seokjin or Taehyung would even find his body, if they would even know about his death, or would they continue on with their lives, thinking that Jimin was whooshing through the world- from country to country without a tint of care.

Jimin began to wonder, with hushed sobs dragging themselves out of the depths of his chest until they saw the light of the day, if Yoongi would throw his body in a ditch and let him rot away with maggots as his only companions? Would he tie him up like a rag-doll and chuck him into the ocean to be swept away by the waves, or would he be chopped up in little pieces and be fed to his dogs for breakfast?

So many opportunities for Yoongi to stab one last dagger into Jimin's back and completely shatter his existence under his boot, yet Jimin's only wish, was for Yoongi to stay with him until he fell asleep against death's boney chest.

So when Yoongi gently lowered Jimin off of his thighs and laid him onto the gravel road, allowing Jimin's blood to soak into the ground and create a permanent mark of ruby red, Jimin's eyes cleared up and hand reached out to grasp at Yoongi's wrist, "Yoon, pl..please, please stay." Jimin pleaded through soft cries of fear, his glossy eyes peered up at Yoongi with terror at being left alone to die.

Yoongi's face softened with traces of guilt before he placed his bloody palm next to Jimin's head and cupped his cheek with his other hand. The blood smeared against Jimin's pale cheekbone with the brush of Yoongi's fingers and the growing pool of blood underneath him began to soak into Yoongi's jeans, "I'm sorry." Yoongi repeated once more like the words had been stuck on repeat and he couldn't find anything else to say to Jimin at the moment, even if he knew that when he did have something to say, Jimin would be long gone to hear them.

Yoongi leaned down and brushed his lips against Jimin's in a gentle kiss of goodbye. But as soon as Jimin felt the smallest tint of a goodbye, his lips parted and teeth latched onto Yoongi's lower lip. As a last act of hatred, Jimin chomped down on Yoongi's lip until his mouth was filled with blood and groans of pain filled his head.

A single flower of satisfaction bloomed in a field of charcoal flowers of fear before a thumb was jabbed into Jimin's mouth and his jaw was pried open to release Yoongi's bleeding lip. The gang-leader hissed in pain with the lightest touch of his fingers against his split lip. He still didn't do anything though, only hardened his expression from the coldness seeping into it before lifting his head to address his gang.

"Get in the cars." Was the only command Yoongi uttered to the onlooking men, who were watching the scene with expressions of confusion and wariness. Yoongi ignored the looks he was receiving as the men lowered their guns and began to walk towards their cars. With each slam of the doors, Yoongi winced and forced himself not to look down at Jimin in fear of seeing the pale, bleeding body of the kitten, who desperately clung onto life, despite the bullet lodged into his chest.

"Hosp..hospital."

The breeze-like words were accompanied by the lightest touch of Jimin's fingers against Yoongi's thigh. His eyes flickered down and tied together with the glossy ones of Jimin's, they lingered, then dragged down to the hand weakling gripping at his bloody shirt. Yoongi could only watch with his lips glued shut as Jimin's lower lip began to wobble and the once melted honey in his eyes slowly hardened with each passing second.

"Pl..please." Jimin pleaded in a hushed whisper, trying to lift his other hand and reach out to Yoongi, only for it to give out and fall into the pool of blood on his chest.

Blood splattered against Yoongi's cheekbone from the action, earning Jimin a sharp flinch from the gang-leader. The silence stretched between the pair until Jimin's fingers twitched, followed by his hand dragging over the pool of blood on his chest. The liquid was thick and slimy, in a shade that pranced between the line of ruby red and obsidian black. It filled up the hole in Jimin's chest and hid the sight of his pink flesh from Yoongi's eyes.

"What do you want me to tell you, Jimin?" Yoongi mumbled blankly in defeat, plopping down on his ass and bending his leg at his knee. His eyes never dared to lift from Jimin's crystalline ones as a chuckle of raw pain and disbelief rumbled in the back of Yoongi's throat- mixing together with the choked cough Jimin released, "I can admit that you were right, my plan had completely failed. And even if there was the smallest chance of it succeeding, I don't want to spend years running after you throughout the world." Yoongi breathed out through an empty smile, it trembled for a split second until Yoongi shook his head and turned away to eye the blood crusting around his fingers, "You're right, at least by killing you, I can gain something from this plan."

"Take it...back." Jimin croaked out through scratchy coughs and a limp tongue. His skin was ashy at this point and eyes began to droop, hand fell limp against the ground and lips peeled open to beg for Yoongi one last time, "Please...change." The gentle plead came in the form of a choked sob, filled with raw agony, "Hospital." Jimin repeated more weaker than before, fluttering his lashes with his frantic blinks and hissing through his teeth as his voice rose and became more desperate, "Take me...take me to the hospital!"

"I can't!" Yoongi spat in return with tears of his own appearing in the corners of his eyes. His chest rose with each pant he exhaled and eyes narrowed into a glare, his lips parted, yet his words refused to come out and turned their backs on him. Yoongi shook his head and pressed his bloody palms against his face, causing the blood to smear and stain his features, "Fuck." Yoongi yanked his hands away and desperately tried to scrub off Jimin's blood from his face, yet even if he got rid of the liquid, his skin was tinted red.

Whiskey eyes fell down on his blood soaked pants and stained shirt before bouncing over to Jimin's limp body. Yoongi gulped down the sight of Jimin's snow coloured skin that contrasted against the blood drenching him, and took a notice of his life slowly bleeding out of his eyes with each ticking second. Jimin's hand laid limp next to Yoongi's thigh and chest occasionally moved to release a soft wheeze, and despite his lips remaining pressed together, Yoongi could see the desire to speak in his blank eyes.

"Even if I wanted to..." Yoongi stuttered through a wave of dizziness that washed over him. He pressed a palm against the ground, only to slam it into the pool of Jimin's blood. Yoongi immediately ripped the hand away and stumbled up to his feet, he staggered a few steps back and stared down at Jimin's dying body, all while frantically wiping away the blood on his shirt, "Even if I wanted to, I..I couldn't." Yoongi breathed out with his eyes staring blankly at the splatters of blood on his shoes.

An empty laugh bloomed in Jimin's chest before pushing its way through his sore throat, "Coward." Jimin whispered with a smile growing along the seam of his lips. He shook his head and allowed it to roll to the side, honeycomb eyes blinked back at the blueberry sky smiling down at the defeated assassin, "Remember me." Jimin breathed out with droopy eyes, allowing his hand to roll off of his stomach and fall into the pool of blood underneath him.

"I will." Yoongi croaked under his breath- eyes lingering on each flutter of Jimin's lashes and rise of his chest, "I will." He repeated more confidently, only to receive another hallow giggle from Jimin and a silver tear down his pale cheek.

"Liar." Jimin scoffed like he knew he meant nothing to Yoongi, like he knew that after a month or two of grieving, Yoongi would brush off his existence and move on. Because in the end, Jimin knew that if Yoongi had the courage to pull the trigger, the gang-leader was able to live without him in his life.

The words died out on Yoongi's lips as he gazed down at Jimin. A droplet of blood held onto the tip of his finger before releasing its grip and falling onto an emerald green leaf laying by his feet. Yoongi shook his head- brushing off the butterflies of guilt hovering over his shoulders as he turned away and began to walk towards the purring cars waiting for him.

"I hate you."

The choked mumble of words shadowed each of Yoongi's footsteps and guided him towards his car. They wrapped around his throat like a noose and promised to haunt him whenever he dared to seek out peaceful slumber. Yet Yoongi didn't dare look back, not even when a small sob broke through Jimin's chest, not even when the assassin screamed after him that he hated him and he deserve to rot in hell. Yoongi didn't dare look back and reveal the crystalline tears of his own eating away at the corners of his eyes as he climbed into his car with trembling hands and a soft sob looming in the back of his throat.

And that's how Yoongi left Jimin- swimming in a pool of his own blood with a hole stretched across his chest, paths of silver tears embedded into his pale cheeks and eyes droopy with death, all alone in a clearing with hushed whispers rolling down his tongue and eyes following the black cars until they disappeared behind the curtain of trees.

That's how Min Yoongi left Park Jimin to die.