"— and that's the last of it," i hear namjoon sighs as he drops seokjin's luggages by the end of the stairs, a few beads of sweat forming in the sides of his head. "seriously, what shit did your brother even brought?"
"you know him," i teased along, nodding towards the said boy who's busy carrying his other luggage back to his room. namjoon chuckled, bending down to once again carry the large suitcase, going the other way to follow my brother to his room.
i dragged my suitcase towards my room, my backpack hanging loosely against my shoulder blades. i couldn't help but feel slightly new to everything. sure everything looked exactly how they were but somehow i couldn't feel familiarity. i was so used to the homey vibe from namjoon's safe house that i forgot how shitty it felt living back on our house.
i heaved a breath as i felt the cold round knob come contact with my sweaty palms, a little hope coiled inside me that maybe....just maybe, when i open this damn door, he'll be there in his usual bored facade, reading some of my mangga collections and literally insulting the whole plot itself. i wish when i open this door, jimin will be there, laying on my bed, his body sprawled on it like he owns it.
i wish.
no matter how much i tell myself he's never coming back, i couldn't stop hoping still. no matter how hard i try to convince myself to move forward just like how jimin had told me— I couldn't.
there are time where i could last the day without even sparing him a thought. days that go so smoothly, filled with laughs and soft giggles. days that i feel like flying again— building myself again. that i just feel neutral, at ease. sometimes my mind is peaceful and not flood in it's usual dark and gloomy thoughts.
but even at the end of those wonderful days, my heart; my mind; and my soul would always lead back to him– only him.
i just miss him so fucking much.
fuck you, jimin. why do have to be such a bitch?
so it disappoints me to find the room empty. it breaks my heart to see the clean state of my bed, no signs of any jimin at all. "why are you doing this?" i found myself muttering to no one in particular, dropping my bags as i made my way towards my bed, plopping down.
i used to smell him in every corners of my room. his scent lingering in the walls of my room like a memory. out of everything in here, it was his fragrance that made my room feel at least a little bit home-like. it used to be my breather. his strawberry shampoo that used to stand as a perfume for my every pillow, lulling me to sleep no matter how loud and an asshole the world just is.
but instead, the smell of dust and the musky scent of old books was what filled my nostrils. gone was the one thing left of him– the very evidence that he was once here. that even for a short moment....he was mine.
he was here.
"so you're back," i hear a manly voice spoke from the door, snapping me from my train of thoughts as i push myself up from my bed.
i turn to see my father standing by the doorframe, his back pressed against it and his hands tucked in his chest, a cigarette in between his lips. "found that jimin guy yet?" he asks.
i remained silent, looking down on my shoes as I sat on the end of my bed. he sighed before i hear him walk closer, making me gulp. i have always hated my father. he's an asshole, a drunkard and a good for nothing bastard. he blames seokjin and i for the disappearance of our mother when in fact, he knows too damn well she's away with her mistress or whatever they call it.
i felt him tip the my chin before i found my hair being pulled up by none other than my asshole excuse of a father. "answer me when i'm asking, kid." he hisses. i could smell the strong stench of alcohol by the close proximity, his grip on my hair tight, making me yelp in pain.
