[ENG] Dancing at Midnight - A Yoonmin story

Fragile

The phone rang a couple of times.

"Hello?"

"Hi"

"Sorry for bothering you...It's...It's been a while since we've talked"

"Yeah"

"I'd like to speak with you, if possible."

"Now? I have to get back to class soon."

"No, not necessarily whenever you want. As soon as you can, I mean. I understand...class, yes. I remember well. Can we meet sometime?"

Silence.

"Hello?"

"Yes, sorry, I was thinking about which day I had available"

"Ah right. I wouldn't want to...bother you, I mean. I've been wanting to call you for a while but I've had some difficulties, you know..."

"...Friday. Around 7 PM."

"Okay! Um, can I pick you up?"

"No need. Let's meet at the Han River, in front of the pedalos. See you Friday then."

Jin hung up the phone. He took a deep breath.

He was looking out over the enormous terrace of Min Yoongi's apartment. He wondered what coincidence brought all definitive encounters around a river: in novels, in films, in armistices. Bridges and rivers. They had something poetic and definitive in the course of a person's life.

They spoke of passages, of renewal, of peace.

I'll meet you at the river, but I don't know if the war will end, he thought.

He felt a shiver down his spine, not only from the late autumn wind that now hit the city of Seoul, but from the effect that voice had on him. He wondered with moderate concern what meaning that specific meeting would have for him.

The last few months had been far from transparent, dense like the waters of the Han River. Contaminated by carelessness, blind passion, fear, jealousy.

Jin blamed himself above all for not having been able to hold onto anything. His job, his woman, his mental health.

He had let himself go with his emotions. And it was a new thing for him, considering himself, for most aspects of his life, a person who managed to keep control. Perhaps he had been too cocky. Instead, the world had struck him with the certainty of his emotionality: jealousy toward Jungkook, the punch, the anger, the uncontrollable desire for Taehyung. Drama. Drama.

His personal K-drama.

Someone who would have always preferred to keep his life on a level without great theatricality had ended up inside a novel with multiple intertwined threads.

With stolen kisses along the river on spring days. Fights and intrigues. New friendships.

One of those was still sitting in a state of mental and physical emptiness on the couch of his loft.

Jin had agreed with Jungkook to take turns so as not to leave Yoongi alone for at least a few days. There had still been some moments of anger interspersed with desperate depression, in which they had to remove every bottle from reach. And the baseball bat.

About four days had passed since the primordial crisis in which he would have wanted to raze his body and his home to the ground.

He asked for Jimin in silent cries and then unleashed into explosions of rage in which he still tried to destroy: music for example, strumming something totally dissonant on the piano still battered from previous outbursts. Or his body, trying to introduce incredible quantities of alcohol to stop thinking. Often the two situations coincided and the unfortunate one had to struggle forcefully to get him away from there.