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yoongis arms slip through the fabric of his jacket thin fingers reaching out to stroke the boys silky mop and this isnt just any boy this is park jimin the park jimin. the jimin with chocolate for eyes and the smoothest hair hes ever had the pleasure of caressing. this is park jimin with his crescent smile. this is jimin with golden skin beneath a peach colored light; this is park jimin; the second boy hes ever loved. this is park jimin; the boy he will never stop loving even with his skeletal fingers wrapped around the brass knob.
yoongi looks at this boy; this mini world; this one stop; this everything. everything too much; too much and he whispers i love you.
he gives the boy just one last look before the vines around his neck snap and the garden in his heart dies.
the island is sick again and yoongis hair becomes damp with isle flu; wet snot cradled in the black of his stubble. he misses jimin. he passes the dead sea and hes crying again; crying and crying; crying.
every memory spent on this damned island he wants to sit there in the sand with the islands vomit slipping down his chest and throw a fit. hes wild; he is the dead garden in his chest; he is gardenias and roses scented with death; he is a mess simply put and he wants to go back but he tells himself hes strong. he tells himself he has to let go because everything good leaves. everything good always leaves; so yoongi decided that he would be the one to leave first. no one would hurt him nothing could hurt him.
