Autumn Leaves / Park Jimin fanfiction

1. Min Yoongi

Paracosm
A detailed, prolonged imaginary world created by a child that includes human, animal or alien creations.

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Sprawled out across my bed, I observed the small brown-haired boy sat next to me. A soft smile develops on my face as I watch his slender, pale fingers fumble with the phone in his hands. His silky, chestnut hair was just long enough to cover his dark, hooded eyes. I twist my own dishevelled hair around the point of my pinky, so tight I begin to feel my heartbeat at the end of it.

"It's rude to stare you know." The boy gives me a sideways glance before fixing his eyes back on the screen in front of him. I sigh to myself staring up at the ceiling as my smile widens. My mind wanders to Yoongi who was seated just a few inches away from me. He had a smile that climbed all the way up to his eyes, radiating rays of sunshine. It was the of type of smile that made everyone who witnessed it feel the irresistible impulse to smile along with him. He had eyes that were a million hues of light and dark. They weren't just simply brown, they were pools of honey that you drowned in. His gums showed whenever he laughed, his laughter like an umbrella. It didn't stop the rain from falling but it sure made it easier to keep moving forward.

Maybe it was the way he had a tendency to hide himself from the world when things got particularly bad, or maybe it was all of the above combined that made it so impossible to notice all the hurt and pain he hid deep down.

I look back over at Yoongi who's still glued to his phone, his mouth twitching as if he was fighting back a smile. I grab my own phone from the old, wooden table stood beside my bed. It was Yoongi's turn to fix his gaze on me. In a bid to avoid his piercing glare, I scroll through my phone, pretending to check it for messages.

"I know you're pretending to read your messages," Yoongi smirks, causing my already pink cheeks to darken from further embarrassment. Defeatedly, I lock my phone, throwing it from the palm of my hand onto the pale blue bed sheets. "What makes you think that?" I question with my arms crossed, slightly hurt by Yoongi's words.

"I'm pretty sure I'm the only one you've ever given your phone number to." Yoongi smugly raises a single eyebrow, knowing he was right. It was true, Yoongi was the only one who had my number. I'd struggled my entire life to make any other friends, and any family ties had been cut off a long time ago. "Don't you think it's time you found new friends?" He continues, finally moving to face me as he laid down with half of his face squished in my pillow and his hair cutely tossed across his forehead.

"I don't need any more friends. I've got you." We'd been friends for 9 years now, meeting back in high school when we were only 11 years old. I'd only recently moved from Shanghai to Seoul with my parents. At that time, I had found it near impossible to make friends at school due to my weak Korean skills. The lack of communication led people to build assumptions of me, labelling me as the weird girl who never spoke. The problem with assumptions is that they are more than often incorrect, but regardless of their harsh words, Yoongi was quick to strike up a friendship with me. We hit it off immediately, and haven't parted since. We had each other and that's all that mattered.

Yoongi rolled onto his back to face the ceiling, seemingly in deep thought. "You've been at university for 2 years now, you need to start living life, you're not getting any younger," he teases, flicking my arm, "go to a party. Find yourself a fuck buddy. Skip class. I don't know, just do something worth living for." Yoongi was good at giving advice, I knew I could count on him to get me out of a bad situation, but that didn't necessarily mean I always took his advice. "I don't like parties and I certainly don't need a fuck buddy," I retort, pointing my finger at him. A part of me knew he was right but it was true, I steered far away from social settings such as parties, and the thought of having a 'fuck buddy' made me sick to my stomach.

Yoongi scoffed and closed his eyes, his dark eyelashes grazing the skin on the top of his cheeks. "I'm just looking out for you, that's all. You've not been the same since Taehyung left," Yoongi spoke up softly after a few minutes of silence. My heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. They say time's supposed to heal, but it'd been 3 years since he walked out of my life, and it was still so difficult to hear his name even after all this time.

After a while, Yoongi looks over at me, noticing the pink hue of my nose, and the red, blotchy skin surrounding my eyes as I tried to stop the tears currently streaming down my face. Without another second passing, Yoongi rolls over to hold me in his arms. Not a single word is uttered between us until the tears finally begin to subside. In that moment, his arms had been able to to put every broken piece of me back into place. "I'm here. I'm not going to leave. Don't ever forget that, okay?" Yoongi whispers into my ear as he cradles me until I fall asleep in his arms.