To What Was Ours

amending (namjoon)

'Good morning, Kook.

It's a nice day outside. It's a little cloudy, and not too hot. There's a gentle breeze. And it's all really familiar, in a way.

I think if things were all right again, like how they were supposed to be, I could go outside and enjoy it. You know I always liked to go for walks, and appreciate whatever I came by.

You'd always ask how it was. No matter how long I took or how uneventful it might've been, you always wanted to know.

And, it might be good for me, to get out of this house and finally focus on something else, but I can't leave knowing no ones going to be here to ask that question. Maybe I took all those walks to come back to tell you about them. Would that surprise you as much as it does me?

Are we both unsurprised?

There's some irony in this situation. I'm not opposed to writing, I never have been, but holding this pen feels foreign.

I haven't written a single damn thing besides complimentary thank yous for whatever person sending me their condolences. There hasn't been a thought in my brain concerning touching paper to pen. I'm completely blank. Where there was once hastily written words on my skin, there only because I had a brilliant idea and couldn't find a notepad in time, naked skin takes it's place.

I don't think I'll ever be able to write on my hand again. It reminds me of your tattoos. I don't think I could put myself through that.

I really should get outside. I just don't know how far I'll make it before I collapse.

I think I'm gonna miss you forever.

Namjoon.'

---

The world stopped breathing that night.

Everything that Namjoon knew was useless, irrelevant, and false. All the years spent building up walls, faking maturity until he meant it, gone. It was null and void. There was nothing else to know.

The red blood coursing through his veins froze. Everyone in the room went so deathly still that they looked like ancient statutes, created in times of famine and war. Her words bounced on wall one, two, three, and four, and there was no take-back. One, two, three, four, and no just kidding.

And that night was burned into his mind, engraved in every crevice of his brain, carved into his skull. The doctor's face held the grief of a woman who couldn't save a dying patient. Not one who could lie. Not one who told lies.

Her inhale of breath quivered. Something in her eyes said that she was on mild defense, awaiting for someone to speak and move. Namjoon looked at her, and stood, mere inches away, understanding the fear. He would have her throat if he didn't explain further. A gentle hand rested on his arm and he swore he felt it burn.

"What did you say?"

"Jungkook supposedly lost control of his vehicle, spiraling before colliding with a stop light at the corner of the intersection. His vehicle was completely destroyed. Medical staff arrived at the scene and found him unconscious. He sustained many major injuries, and we did everything we possibly could to stabilize him, but there was no response. We couldn't save him. He passed about thirty minutes before you arrived - at 6:56."

Thirty minutes. Before they had even piled into the car. Before Jin even tossed the idea in the air that maybe Jungkook was struggling in this rain. 

He'd was gone before they even thought of him.

But that wasn't why they were there. They hadn't come to be told that he was -