February 1, 2014.
Dear Kim Namjoon-ssi,
I apologize for the formalities. You're my brother in every aspect but it just seems right to do it this way.
Your letter was the first I wrote. I don't know why. Maybe because you're the leader. It's always been easy to talk to you. It always will be. You're the type of person who always listens, no matter how idiotic the conversation is. You're the one who'll always be able to give supportive feedback that leaves others crawling with excitement to do better. You'll always be there for us.
I talked to my psychologist today. He told me that I should connect more with others. I should talk with the other members; try to find some semblance of a family relationship in the search for my soulmate. (I don't think I'll ever find them.) So I'm trying my best to do so in the way I know best: writing letters. Writing. Stringing words together to give them meaning. Even deeper meaning than you may think.
I want to thank you. For everything you've ever done for me and for the other members. I wouldn't be who I am today without you. Bangtan wouldn't have gotten this far without you. I wouldn't have lived this long without you. You took my screwed-up life and crafted it into something worthwhile. I love performing, I love dancing, I love helping make music and masterpieces, I love making the crowd feel happy when they see us happy.
You should know, whenever you see the other members crying with joy, whenever you guys get your first win, that it would be because of you. I practically owe my life to you.
There's only one way you'll find this letter. And that's if I'm gone. None of it was your fault. I know you're the type to blame yourself for things like this but know that's not the truth. None of us could have seen it come to this. Except for me. I kind of knew I would never find a soulmate. Call it intuition.
Enough serious stuff: try not to burn down the kitchen too much in the future? Also, don't break Seokjin-ssi's favorite wine glasses. I know he never uses them for anything stronger than diet coke but he still paid a lot of money for them. Make sure the others go to bed at reasonable times and make sure you don't ever doubt yourself. EVER. Got it? Good.
Take care of everyone else for me, yeah?
Love,
You-know-who
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Boy In Luv promotions were steadily approaching. The music video had already been filmed and was currently in post-production. The tracks were being given a final touch-up and practices ran longer and longer each day. Jimin was still forced to sit out of most practices, but all the members made it known that it was not because they were abandoning him or giving up on him. It was simply a safety precaution for Jimin's health.
In fact, a random member stayed behind in the dorm with him most times (it was Yoongi half the time) while the others would touch up the moves and formations. Jimin was still called in every day, but only for voice lessons and language training (to get the thick Busan accent out of his voice). Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin had completely stopped attending school in order to focus on the comeback.
The choreography this time around wasn't as complex as No More Dream but it was just as tiring-when the members came home, dead on their feet each day, Jimin felt almost relieved he wasn't required to stay the whole day. He ignored the pitiful looks the BigHit staff sent him whenever he walked into the office. He didn't need them reminding him how hopeless this situation was. He already knew himself.
"You going to the company dinner tonight?" Yoongi had asked him one morning, the two of them curled up on the couch next to each other, Yoongi with a notebook in his lap and Jimin reviewing the footage of their latest dance practice.
"Company dinner? What company dinner?"
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, clicking his ballpoint pen closed. "You know.. the dinner. With the company."
"I know what a company dinner is, Hyung. But what for? Boy In Luv promotions haven't started, Hoseok-Hyung's birthday's not for nearly three weeks, and I don't think it's a holiday."
"Oh," Yoongi just said lamely. He slouched back against the couch, biting the end of his pen. "It's Bighit's Founding Anniversary. Nine years to the day. February 1, 2005. I thought you knew...?"
"No... no one told me," Jimin set down his phone on the coffee table, wringing his hands in thought. The heaviness in his lungs is almost unbearable. He can feel the flower petals blooming, blocking his airways. He manages to choke out, "Why wouldn't they t-tell me...?"
"We found out yesterday at dance practice, Jiminie. You were at a vocal lesson. The managers probably just forgot to tell you about it," Yoongi explained. It still did nothing to soothe the lump in Jimin's throat.
"But none of you guys told me about it," Jimin said, his tone accusatory.
"We got home after eleven. We were tired and we just forgot."
"How can you forget something like that?!"
"I don't know! We're just used to everyone being there and-" Yoongi suddenly cut himself off and took a deep breath to calm his temper. "Listen, we really didn't mean to keep this from you. But you are invited. Do you want to go?"
"I..." Jimin paused and thought about the question. Did he really want to go? Did he really want to see the judgemental and pitying faces of the BigHit staff? With a resounding huff and a strong set of his shoulders, Jimin replied, "No. I don't," and laid his head on Yoongi's shoulder.
"Good," Yoongi huffed, setting his head on Jimin's shoulder as he scribbled a few more words down in his notebook. Jimin chanced a look at the newest words, even though he knew Yoongi would literally knock his head in if he ever found out that Jimin was peeking at his unfinished songs. 'Why do I fall in love when I'll just get heartbroken?'. It takes Jimin a moment to realize that Yoongi is like him: another lost soul, incomplete without his soulmate. They're just two lonely people, drawn together by luck or misfortune. It just depended on how you saw the entire situation.
"I didn't want to go either," Yoongi finishes his thought, snapping the notebook closed. He's halfway through this notebook, now, even though he had just bought it two weeks ago. Each page is filled to the brim with scribbles, notes, highlighted phrases that he wants to come back to, and even features some ripped-out pages when the words just didn't seem to fall in place right that day.
Jimin wishes he could do that in real life. Rip out a memory, crumple it up and start anew. Toss it aside and leave it to wither away like leaves in the fall. But this is real life; you can't do that.
"Jimin-ah?" Yoongi asks after a moment of silence-not the awkward kind, but the comforting kind. The one that wraps around you like a blanket, leaving your heart feeling warm and free.
"Hmm?" Jimin hums, too content in their current position to form words, let alone complete, coherent sentences.
"You're going to be fine. Trust me."
Jimin wants to laugh and regurgitate all the statistics he's researched, all the facts and studies that will prove Yoongi wrong. They're the same facts he's told everyone else countless times before. But for the first time since he began coughing out petals, Jimin feels a lightness in his throat, like the petals are retreating. He keeps his mouth shut in lieu of listening to the sound of Yoongi's breathing. The producer's fallen asleep already, exhausted from back-to-back late-night dance practices and producing stints. Jimin doesn't blame him.
Jimin shifts his shoulder a bit so that Yoongi's neck isn't at such an uncomfortable angle. He looks down at his Hyung, brushing down the unruly brown strands that had just been dyed for their upcoming comeback, less than two weeks away.
Isn't it strange how Min Yoongi, a complete stranger from another province in Korea, knows more about Jimin than Jimin's parents do? Yoongi knows about the hanahaki, what Jimin's favorite coffee flavor is, what his favorite songs to freestyle to are, and most importantly, how he needs to be wrapped around another member while taking naps in the middle of the day.
Bright shocks of bitterness and anger roll through his body like waves. He laughs as carefully and ruefully as possible, not wanting to disrupt Yoongi with too much movement.
"Ah, Hyung..." Jimin lays his head against the back of the couch, savoring the clear and light feeling in his throat and lungs. He took a deep breath, the comforting scent of Yoongi's mint and tea tree shampoo wafting in the surrounding area. "Why couldn't you have been my soulmate?"
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tell me how you feel about this chapter? i promise i'll respond asap...