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Flying Snow

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“If I could go back, I would just walk away.”



Yoongi never really thought this day would ever come for him. Maybe he should’ve seen it coming when his parents divorced. Maybe he wanted to hold a little bit of hope for himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe he doesn’t know anymore.

The snowflakes that drift downwards caress his cheeks and nose. They look soft, gentle—like him—but the minute they touch his skin, the cold is a needle that can’t be pulled out, sharp and harsh—like his words.

His breath comes out in puffs of smoke in front of him. He realizes the only thing he had on him when he left his room was his sweater and a pair of jeans. He has a pair of sandals on his feet, and a beanie on his head.

Ah, it really is cold right now.

How’s Jimin doing?

“I don’t know,” Yoongi whispers under his breath, weak and defeated. He never knows anything anymore.

The wooden bench he’s sitting on feels just as frozen as his toes. He takes in a deep breath. He doesn’t let it go for a while.

The last time he saw Jimin was 14 days, 4 hours, and 57 minutes ago. It was in this park, too. He remembers. He might not know, but he remembers.

He remembers how he was out of breath. He remembers how his heart was beating a hundred miles a second inside his ribcage. How the tears were on the edges of his eyes—just there, but not falling. Not yet.

It wasn’t snowing then. But it was cold. It was frigid. His watch on his wrist back then had felt like the cuffs of an officer, cold and bitter—and angry at him. The seconds ticking by were punches on his chest, back, and heart. His phone was deadweight in his hand.

Jimin was lying. He had to be.

When Yoongi finally saw the man with soft pink hair sitting on a bench, sitting on their bench, shoulders dejected and hands clasped in his lap in his fuzzy jacket, Yoongi felt an onslaught of emotions run its course with him.

First, he felt the relief and adoration. It’s like having a warm blanket wrap around him tight, and feeling like the world is beautiful and serene. It’s an effect that Jimin has on him that he knows will never leave.

The second thing he felt was the despair and panic. He felt it from his legs to his brow, heavy and unsettling. He knew that his heart would burst in a painful explosion anytime, if he doesn’t… if he doesn’t…

“Jimin…” the name escaped his lips, like the slivers of moonlight in between dark branches.

The other flinched at the sound of Yoongi’s voice and the elder felt a knife wedge deep into his lungs.

But, with stone hard rigidness, Jimin stood and faced him.

His beautiful eyes were ice.

“Jimin, please, talk to me.” Yoongi managed to say, but he felt the teardrop on the verge of falling.

Jimin pressed his lips into one thin line. “I meant what I said, Y-Yoongi-ssi.” He blinked, his hands balling into fists, his voice faltering but his body language strong.

Yoongi let that one teardrop fall.

He wasn’t calling him hyung.

“W-Why? Why are you breaking up with me? A-At least tell me why, maybe I can… maybe I can…” Yoongi stuttered, his left hand messed up his hair, and his other hand gripped his phone tighter. His thoughts ran the length of the Earth and back, searching, looking for a way he could salvage this somehow, a way he could fix what he broke.

Jimin was determined.

“You and I both know why. We just…” at this, Jimin looked away. His hair fell into his eyes, his front teeth bit into his lip, and his eyes scrunched up seemingly in pain. When he looked back at Yoongi, meeting his gaze, Jimin’s eyes were a kaleidoscope of reflections.

For a moment, Yoongi let himself hope.

“I love you, Yoongi.” Jimin says. “But we can’t be together. We can never make this work. There’s just… too much to fix.”

Yoongi couldn’t breathe.

Jimin took one step back. The saddest smile Yoongi had ever seen rested on the younger’s face.

“It was amazing, being with you, Yoongi-ssi. But if I could go back… to the first time we met… I would just walk away.”

Yoongi knew he would never be the same.

Jimin had left by then, not even sparing a glance at the broken pieces of Yoongi he had left in the cold.

Maybe that’s why Yoongi keeps coming back to this place. To this bench where they carved their initials, where they shared their first kiss, where they had a picnic, and where they first met.

Maybe he hopes he can still find his lost pieces here.

The man hunches over, resting his forehead on his knees. He starts sobbing then, again, because he knows he was the reason Jimin left. He knows he was the one that pushed him to do it, that he was entirely to blame for their relationship turning sour and becoming too much to handle.

He didn’t put in enough effort. And now he pays the price.

As the sun disappears, and the night’s frost pierce its claws into him even more, Min Yoongi’s cries never ceased.

Because he knows, that no matter how hard he looks…

The broken pieces of his heart will always be with Park Jimin.