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They told me I passed out.

I guess the stress was too much.

I ignored everyone.

Skipped school.

Missed the little memorial ceremony they held for him at school.

I missed him... I missed him so much already and it had only been a couple days.

I never let my friends in when they tried to visit me.

My parents didn't have a clue as to what was going on, as if they'd even notice there was something wrong at all.

I stayed in my room, in my bed, listening to his favorite songs, thinking about him. His smile, his laugh, his presence.

I woke up every morning by myself, and I wondered, hey, why didn't Jimin wake me up? And then it processes in my head that, oh yeah, he's gone.

I cried a lot the first night. Soon, I just became an emotionless cell.

It was about five days after Jimin died that I received a call from Mrs. Park. I could tell she had been crying just as much as I had been hurting.

"Hello Yoongi." She said, her voice frail.

"Hi." That was all I could manage. I hadn't actually spoken to anyone in days.

"How are you?" She treaded carefully, unsure of how I was dealing with my grief. Which was understandable, I mean, I did pass out.

"Living. How are you and Mr. Park?" I stated bluntly. She sighs.

"It's the same for us as well. I called to tell you about the funeral."

"Yeah?"

"It's on Sunday. I can text you the address. You and your parents are invited. Your friends too."

"Thanks." I contrived a small smile.

"Thank you too. For it all. I know Jimin was happy to have you by his side all this time."

"I'll see you Sunday, Mrs. Park."

"Okay Yoongi, sweetie. I'll see you then. Good night."

"Good night." I hung up.

She texted me the address moments later, and I wrote it down on a piece of paper along with the title, Park Jimin's Funeral.

It just so happened that my parents were home that night, and they were eating dinner together in the dining room having a splendid time having each other as company, excluding me. The usual.

I trudged down the stairs and into the dining room, paper in hand. I slapped the paper on the table in front of them and stood there, waiting for them to finish reading it.

"Park Jimin? Who's that? Do we know him?" My father asked.

"My boyfriend. Not that you could ever know him now. Oh, by the way, I'm gay. I'm not sorry that you're against it, and frankly, I really don't care– not that you'd ever care to ever wonder about my sexuality in the first place. Also, you guys honestly fucking suck, and I can't wait to graduate and move the hell out of this place." And then I stormed off back up to my room.

"Yoongi!" My mother yelled, disbelief clear in her tone of voice.

I ignored her and locked the door to my bedroom.

I texted the address to the group chat I had with Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin, Taehyung, and Jungkook.

I didn't bother to look at their replies.

Missing || yoonminWhere stories live. Discover now