Hitman vs Mafia ~Mafia!Jimin X Hitman!Reader~

Chapter 55 - Six Months

Six Months Later

I set my bag down onto my counter, keys following next. A sigh fell from my lips as I take my shoes off next. My dull apartment stared back at me, small couch and miniature TV silently bidding hello. The worn down carpet had once been beige, but it was more grey now. My tiny kitchen contained little, if any, food. It had been a couple weeks since I last went grocery shopping, but I didn't feel like it. I barely spoke anymore. I had no reason to. Every word that came out just reminded me of words I wish I'd said, and the rest fell away soon after. All the mirrors were covered because I couldn't bear to look in them. I didn't want to see the empty look that I was sure would stare back at me. Showering had lost its appeal, so I took them maybe once a week. The hot water no longer brought solace, it brought memories. Memories of happiness and laughter, a distant past that had long been forgotten. Lying on my small bed simply reminded me of the size my last one had been and the pressure that had once been next to me. Vanilla in bakeries felt like small zaps to my heart and drove me away.

What am I doing?

I walk over to the couch and sit on it. The fabric crumpled under my weight and the cushions practically imploded. My eyes glide over to the black TV, but I didn't turn it on. I merely stared at the black screen. I used to watch the news, but the French that came blasting at me tired me too much to continue. Music playing from my neighbors would often be the only sound filling my rooms. The sun leaking through my windows would be the only light. At night, my apartment was dark, and I just moved in it.

I look down at my wrist where the bracelet still lay. I'd refused to take it off, and I still refuse to. I don't want to let go of everything I feel. The gold and silver was as shiny as ever, but the light reflecting had dulled. It might be that everything had dulled since I left, but I couldn't tell. All the colors in the world weren't as bright as they'd once been. Countless rainbows had come and gone and were just... grey. The red wasn't bright, the green wasn't fresh, the purple was the sad color of a murky lake. The blue sky looked like it was through an old film camera. Food had lost its flavor.

Yet my heart still beat. My eyes still saw. My ears still heard. My skin still felt. My mouth still tasted. My nose still smelled.

Everything was through a filter, but my body still moved.

I'd lost count of the days. I'd stopped counting after three months. Every passing day just reminded me of what was once my life. The sun rising reminded me of night walks and a sweet voice. The cool metal of the bracelet reminded me of a passionate kiss where tides crashed onto the surface. Eating reminded me of meals long passed with windshield wiper laughs and cackles from the youngest. Ads for video games reminded me of a certain boxy smile and of a technology genius. Feeling kitchen cutlery reminded me of a mint-head. Seeing a charming smile reminded me of a smooth liar. Every pound of my heart reminded me of the reason it beats. Every breath reminded me of the reason I was breathing Montreal air instead of Seoul air. Every smile in my direction reminded me of his moon eyes. The occasional flirter brought painful memories of who I yearned for.

Fuck.

I stand up. The sun was setting in the distance, and that meant sleeping soon. Between daylight and darkness, I spent most of my time dreaming. I dreamed of the once potential future, where we'd be laughing and traveling. I dreamed of the past and his arms holding me. I saw what had been and what could've been. It brought the same pain.

A knock sounds on my door, and my body drags itself over. I open the door and look outside.

"Rent was due yesterday," my landlord hums in English, his French accent mild. "Do you have it?"

I nod before going over to my duffle bag that now contains Canadian dollars. The other was left untouched, shoved under my bed. I grab the amount for rent and go back. I hand him the stack.

"Where do you even get the cash from?"

"That's not your business."

He sighs before shaking his head and walking off. I shut the door after he disappeared out of sight. It had been a long time since I'd spoken last. Probably since last month, when he asked me that question. He asked it every damn month, and every time, I say the same thing.

I go over to my bathroom and toss my clothes onto the ground. I step into the shower then turn the water on, ice cold rain splattering onto my skin. I shivered, but I didn't feel like waiting for it to warm up. I start washing my body off with dollar store soap and shampoo. I'd lost all desire to smell like anything at all. Even once the water warmed up, I didn't savor it. There was only one thing that could warm me, and he was thousands of miles away. Water did nothing.

I shut off the water and step out of the shower. Droplets fell onto the small carpet as I reached for my towel. The rough fabric scratched at my skin, but it took in all the water. I toss it over my shower curtain then go over to the sink. The covered mirror beckoned me, called my name, told me to see. I lift the corner.

Shadows had taken over my eyes. I was the palest I'd ever been, each scar standing out like black marks on a white wall. My hair was flat. My cheeks looked hollow. My lips were dry and cracked.

I drop the fabric back down before leaving the bathroom. I take out a soft sweater and underwear, not even bothering to put pants on. I was going to bed anyway, so I didn't need them. I fall onto my bed, wet hair soaking my pillow. The sun brushed against the horizon before dipping below it.

A breath falls delicately out of my lips.

One more day has come and gone...