Chapter Text
생일 축하합니다
his voice is breathy, low but it sings in tandem with the voices filtering through the device he has held within one hand, his leg bouncing in habit.
his attention breaks momentarily at the small hand and the light giggle and something hot and heavy sinks into his gut at the sound. it`s so small, hardly breaks over the voices signing louder and louder. yoongi`s hand shake and the room shakes with it and for moments all he sees are the blurred twinkling lights and maybe some candles before their flames are extinguished followed by whistles, claps on the back and someone smearing cake before it comes back into focus when yoongi`s hand stops and he goes back to pretending to be videotaping for memories they`ll probably never get a chance to sit together in their old days and reminisce about.
two of the once inseparable sevens are missing.
seokjin is in los angeles last he texted him and jeongguk is at home; 10 minutes away from the party.
jimin smiles into the phone directed at him and poses for the video he thinks its recording and jeonnguk chokes on his heartbreak from ten years ago.
his hair is its natural warm brown and his cheeks had not lost their roundness or their natural rosy dusting.
he`s still beautiful.
time has been kind to them but generous to jimin who looked just as young as he had last seen him. he swallows and reaches a hand to carefully trace his features. the tablet screen is smooth under his fingertips but never like the real thing.
it goes black all too quick for him and he blinks; the last he had seen is the small hand coming towards the screen before it all ended, yoongi`s kind videocall wrapping up with smiles from jimin and renewed ache for him.
if yoongi tried to call him back later, he probably got directed to his voicemail and jeongguk would slips away until taehyung coax him out for his own birthday. but yoongi never calls, had never did for the past ten years he had been doing this, probably knows to leave him alone for now but he still texts him a thank you and gets 'you`re welcome, kid' even though he`s now thirty two.
“jeongguk-ah,”
it`s jimin`s voice that ends up playing when he wakes up for his five am run.
he sounds wasted and lucid and for the allotted sixty seconds voice messages, jimin breathes and it`s quiet and jeongguk`s heartbeat is whooshing and deafening and he leans heavily against the white oak of his front door, the knob digging into the small of his back but he hardly notices not when pain flares up everywhere in his body.
jimin`s breath hitches and catches and suddenly he wants to hang up and not listen but he also wants to listen and listen and spend forever listening to jimin breathing if that`s all he was allowed to have.
fifty five.
jimin sniffs and there is a rustling sound as if he moved from where he sat in the empty bed he had helped him pick. what could have been theirs.
fifty six
the light breaks slowly and there is an autumn breeze that ruffles his locks gently. it reflects on the ring on his finger while the one around his neck remains buried in the darkness under his hoodie but always searing his skin where it rests.
fifty seven
inhale
fifty eight
exhale
fifty nine
‘jeonggukie..’
‘you have zero new messages!’
he ends up dry heaving on the pots of tiger lilies.