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Moonlight and Porcelain

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But right now, nothing will be alright.

  Not when half of Jimin’s body is shattered, and Yoongi sees him smile so brokenly.

  Yoongi went to visit him, to take him out to see the new flower garden the little angel had prepared as a new addition to the castle. It was made of crepe and construction paper, decorated with glitters and heaps of beads.

 

No one was really aware that the mother of the household had dropped the music-box this morning.
  He cranked the music-box like usual, and if he had a heart, it would have pounded badly when he hears an off-tone in the tinkle of the usually sweet metallic tune of Canon in D Major. Nothing would have prepared him when he saw Jimin hugging himself, in shock and grief evident in his face.

 

  Toys didn’t feel pain. At least not physically.
But Yoongi was sure that something in his small wooden body made hurt. It made him breathless, made him speechless, and made him feel hopeless.

 

  His love wouldn’t be able to dance anymore. Gone were the nights of dancing in bathed moonlight, gone were the nights of joyous hopping with Jungkook and Taehyung, his love’s shining light was gone and both of them couldn’t even shed tears. Jimin gave him a broken smile and Yoongi doubted that toys didn’t have hearts, because he felt his clench and constrict. “My sweet.” He whispered softly, fists clenching and shaking. And it was then that Jimin’s shoulder shook, and his smile dropped that had Yoongi feel like a thousand building blocks were burying him alive. “Y-Y-Yoongi-“ Jimin wailed and Yoongi immediately knelt down, narrowly missing the shards of porcelain right beside Jimin. Not that it mattered, because he wouldn’t bleed.

  He tried to shush Jimin and whispered his love’s name over and over again. He closed his eyes tightly, and let out a strangled cry. Why? Why, why, why?! It felt painful, it felt like the moon had taken away his breath and soul.

 

  Gone was Jimin’s left leg, and so were chunks of his left arm. There was a huge shard missing on Jimin’s back, a hollow empty space on his right rib and there were cracks on his face as well. Yoongi wished they were able to cry, because he didn’t know how to release all this pain. It was too much for him, and he couldn’t imagine what Jimin was feeling.

  “Love, I’m sorry.” Jimin started, “I heard from the Sullivan’s there’s a new garden and I... I knew you would take me there but it seems that we won’t be able to dance tonight.” The doll took a deep shaky breath and tried to smile. Yoongi bit his lip hard, definite to leave a small nearly unnoticeable chip on his wooden lip. Gone was his plan of adorning Jimin’s ankle with the crafted bracelet he had made with the princess as a gift. The garden had a lot of beads to spare. However, how? How can he give his love the gift when it will just remind Jimin of what he has lost?

  He let out a shaky breath and carefully unwrapped his arms gently. He wordlessly left, hands clenched. “Y-Yoongi?” he heard Jimin call, and he had difficulty breathing because of how scared, how broken, how shattered it sounded. Not that he needs air.

 

  The Sullivan’s mother had approached him with worry and he could see the heartbreak she felt through her beady eyes. Toys didn’t feel physical pain; the thought rang in his head. They could only feel pain through their soul, one that the mother moon had given them. His voice cracked a pitch as he asked the woman to let him borrow a blanket or a piece of soft cloth. She wordlessly handed him a pink cloth, squeezing his hands with her furry synthetic hand.

 

  He hurried back with fast steps, heart breaking even more at the sight of Jimin staring silently in empty space. The boy’s head snapped up to look at him and stuttered, "I t-thought you l-left m-me.” His love was afraid, scared, alone. But the soldier couldn’t speak, his throat felt like it was being strangled by an invisible string. He wrapped Jimin with the blanket and Jimin's eyes widened in confusion. “W-what are you doing?” Yoongi supplied no response and continued with what he was doing.
He hoisted Jimin’s body up and secured the cloth over his chest. He slowly stood up, hooked his arm on Jimin’s left leg with his right arm supporting Jimin’s bottom.

 

  “Yoongi?”
“Wrap your arms around me, doll.” Or what was left of them.

 

  They descended the stair-like stairs and Yoongi glanced at the wall clock hung up on the little angel’s room.
  They only had three hours left together.

 

   And he's going to spend every last second of it with Jimin. It wasn't perfect, the garden's flowers that instead of delicate petals were replaced by the craftsmanship of a small child. Paper flowers - and yet Jimin managed to find how wonderful it was. Jimin. Jimin. His Jimin. 

His love. His life.
The porcleain dancer that shines through his graceful movements as the tinkle of the musicbox plays.

 

  And the next night when Yoongi woke, gone was the musicbox perched on top of the little girl's dresser.