Red. (The True Ending/ Last Special)

AN: Hi. So, this is the last chapter. I know.. I probably should've emotionally prepared you for this, but I was no prepared for it either. It just happened... you'll see.

But first! I want to thank all the Smokers who have stuck around for 67 chapters! You've read more than 1158 pages. That's the best gift.

You can ask me anything you want and I welcome long rants with open arms. Don't hesitate to share your frustration, if the 'second ending' (how did it get so long? (because I don't know.) was not to your liking. I want to know why. I won't mind. That being said, those who have loved it, I want to know why too. I want to know everything basically. I can't wait.

That being said, I will not start another fanfiction anytime soon. I want to start refocusing on my personal project and that might take a long, long time to finish. Hopefully not as long as this one (she wrote with doubtful hope). This is why I am not making any promises for the future, but either way, I loved writing this story and I do not regret it one bit.

Wish you all the best and, enjoy:

Namjoon's perspective:

The smell coming off Jimin's food was far too pungent. Or maybe it was me.

"Why do you look like a car drove over you?"

I smirked for a moment. A brief moment. Out of shame or nervousness. Mostly frustration.

'It's definitely me.'

"No reason."

"You didn't let me finish. You rolled over in a puddle, tried to get up, but fell back down into the puddle. And then the car drove over you one more time and then you got up after it drove away, and came in here to stare at me."

Picked up the fork and forced it to my lips.

Put it back down and joined my hands. Elbows on the table, head slightly lowered.

"What's wrong?" He asked, continuing to chew between words. "Don't tell me you're sick again."

The same restaurant. The same cold beers. But I was half sober. And less relaxed than the last time we were here.

"I have something to tell you."

"...what?"

I kept choking on the words. Swallowing them down with bitter saliva.

"Namjoon, you're scaring me."

"..."

"What happened?"

The fork made it onto the plate. The juices were dirtying the edges of it. But he did not stop to notice. Bambi kept looking straight at me with two big eyes.

I smiled, overwhelmed, and covered it with the joined hands.

"Is it Jungkook? Did something happen to him? Cause I've already told you that you should've just let him be. I told you that you two are a recipe for disaster. And don't tell me it's not true. Yes, people can change, but until that happens, you have to stay away."

I didn't fight back against that fact. I was far too exhausted.

"You said so yourself." He argued further.

I simply, mildly nodded.

Silence.

"Namjoon, say it already! I'm freaking out..."

He leaned back. Arms extended on each side. Open palms on the wooden table.

I looked at them.

Such tiny, pale fingers.

And yet, when I looked up, all I could see was Taehyung standing behind him with his arms crossed.

Not offering to tell me if this is what he wanted or not. If this is the opposite of it and so, he'll haunt me forever.

Not wanting to, regardless of how many times I've begged like a child.

"Bambi." I burst out, innocently. Friendly. Like Fred used to do.

"...yes?"

"I am the one who's killed V. It's me. I did it."

Arms slipped off the table and remained limp on each side of his body. Unblinking eyes kept staring forward. Not really seeing. Blinking only occasionally, as if after a thought. The surprise replaced the anxiousness of not knowing. The shock.

The disgust was contorting his features.

"Why aren't you saying anything?"

"Is this a joke?"

"No. I am being serious."

"But...how did you ..." Jimin cleared his throat, before repeating himself in a lower tone, "How did you do it?"

"He set a house on fire."

"Which one?"

"Because of that, he has inhaled a lot of smoke."

He hit his fists on the table. Making the liquid inside the glasses swish back and forth. Exclaiming:

"Why would he set a house on fire? That's ridiculous," He emphasized that by shaking his head wildly.

"To get rid of me." I replied in one breath. After an involuntary shrug. I, also leaned back into the couch. Looking around.

"He burned alive?!"

"Shh...Keep your voice down."

"Don't tell me what to do Kim Namjoon!"

"Fine! Fine...no, he only inhaled some smoke."

"That's what killed him?"

"No. I did...I tortured him until he begged to die."

"Wha...what?" He breathed out through what was almost a laugh. Eyes getting wetter with every incredulous blink that always contained a long pause of him just staring straight into my eyes.

"Why? Why did you do it?" He wanted to know, speaking quietly.

"He raped...Jungkook. "

He scoffed with half a smirk and eyes filled with hate. Spitting: "Of course! It had to be Jungkook. No one else matters."

A bitter expression, as he glanced to the left. The outside of the window did not capture his attention. He was thinking.

"He was a rapist, Jimin. Even if it would've been anybody else...I still should've..."

"Oh! Spare me the hero speech. You wouldn't have cared if it was someone else!"

I shook my head this time. But slowly. Unconvincingly. Lowering it without thinking.

Mumbling: "Maybe, I wouldn't have cared as much. But even if it wasn't for Jungkook. He crossed me. More than once, might I add."

"And that's the best way to deal with someone who dared to make you upset? Are you proud? That's why you decided to tell me after all this time? Do you want me to congratulate you?!"

He stood up.

I stood up as well.

"No. I told you because I wanted to say... I'm sorry. He was..at some point, my friend too."

"He was MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND! MINE! And now...I don't need any more friends."

He screamed in my face, grabbed his coat and stomped away for a bit only to return to the table with a normal, yet strained voice, saying:

"I'll use your car to get back and I'll drive it back to your house early in the morning."

I nodded slowly.

He walked out without uttering another word.

I sat back down as if I had just been slapped.

Grabbed a random bottle and took a sip before rubbing my forehead.

'Is this what you wanted? Huh? Did it all go according to your sick plan?'

'Very much so.'

'Then why are you still here?'

'That was not all.'

I put the bottle down with rage and stared at him like I would kill him again if I could.

'What's left? What else do you want?!'

He smiled his gummy smile. And walked away just like Jimin.

"Fuck!"

I slammed the bottle against the table and felt nothing but rage at the shushed judgement of what I have done. The pointing fingers, they were burning my cheeks out of the anger that was surging through my veins.

Got up, threw way too much money onto the table and marched right past the scared waitress.

The wind hit me in the face the moment I've opened the door.

The cold air of the night.

It was the sole comfort.

The long taxi ride. The fumble for my keys while standing in front of the locked gate. Refusing to use the intercom. Refusing to draw attention to myself as I've stepped inside the house without turning on one single bulb.

I tiptoed upstairs, passed Roxy's and my bedroom, and sneaked in right into the guest room.

"Hey..." I whispered. "Are you sleeping?"

Jungkook continued to breathe so quietly that I doubted if he was even alive.

"Psstt."

His silhouette was drowned under the thick blanket

"Hey." I went on without raising my voice.

Contradicting my words while I lifted the edge of the blanket.

I sneaked into his bed without thinking.

As if it was natural.

As if he'd have no problem with it.

Fact that was contradicted the second his eyes shot up wide, as if he was about to scream cause whatever he was looking at, was terrifying.

I covered his mouth, and placed a finger against my own lips at the same time.

"It's me." Was all I could think to say to make him relax.

It only made him more awake and ready to jump off the bed.

"Wait. Wait..."

I grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards me. Forcing him to half embrace me by keeping his one arm over my abdomen.

"Stop it..." He whispered. Trying to pull back.

"I told him." I said a bit more excited than I meant it.

"Jimin?" He asked, a bit sleepier than a second ago.

"Yeah. He knows."

"That's great. I am happy for..."

"And it solved nothing!"

I exclaimed, on the brink of tears

"What do you mean? You said that's what you had to do. What you felt you should do to make everything right."

"I thought so. But now, I am not so sure..."

He rubbed his forehead with the free hand and then moved the other up and down.

"Let go." He warned through a locked jaw.

"...sorry."

I mumbled.

He rubbed the place where my fingers wrapped around and then went on with a sigh:

"What did he say after you've... Confessed?"

"He hates me."

"He said those exact words?"

"No. But that's the most accurate summary of his words."

"Can you tell me the words he did say though?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I let the back of my head rest against the white pillow. Struggling to keep my eyes open cause the alternative was spinning inside a black hole.

"Because I can't remember the exact words. What I can remember, however..." I proudly began, pointing my finger to the ceiling, "Is that he implied that I've killed his best friend. Well, his childhood friend. And that I was his friend too. And now..."

"Now?"

"I am not."

I realized, arm dropping on the mattress.

"Look, let's sleep on it. Jimin can sleep on it and tomorrow he might think differently tomorrow. I am sure it was all too much. He probably didn't mean it."

Jungkook let me know, pulling the blanket over me.

"Probably." I mumbled under my breath.

But then he took the blanket off me with one movement.

"What am I doing? Go to your room."

I moved my head towards him, to the left, and looked right into his round eyes. Enunciating as clearly as I could: "I am out of ideas, Jungkook. And it's going to drive me insane. I know it."

"What's going to drive you insane? What are you..."

"Sleep with me."

"What? No."

"It will keep me from drinking." I argued with a slightly high-pitched tone.

"No. That's not how it works."

He shook his head in disappointment, leaning away from me as I got up on my hands and leaned forward.

"It isn't?" I whispered inches away from his face.

"No. You stop yourself from drinking. Not...No. I don't want to do it. Go back to your girlfriend and leave me..."

It was cheap.

"Just once. Please. I need to feel something else. To..."

"I said no."

"Do it for me. Just this once."

"Namjoon. Go back to your room, for me."

It was shameless.

It was what I didn't want to do to him.

Forcing him, yet again.

I wanted him to come to me.

But no matter how many times I've explained it, he still brought Roxy up like a protective shield he got to dangle between us.

But there was no Roxy for me. Therefore, his shied was nonexistent.

I was his shield.

And I was full of cracks right now.

I tried to make it more pleasurable for him. I tried kissing his neck slowly.

I tried to caress his skin any moment I could.

I tried kissing him without biting.

But he kept pushing away and moaning in pain.

I tried making love to him.

But he only wanted it to be over.

I could see it. The wet cheeks and the disfigured lips.

I could feel it in the strength of his fists as they landed on me.

I could hear the echo of his cries inside my thoughts.

But I couldn't stop.

And then, something gave.

At first, I thought he had surrendered to the situation. Because he was clearly not getting away from under me.

And then, I heard a moan that sounded different than all the others.

He wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me towards him.

I almost stopped entirely, out of shock.

Jungkook seemed as if he was enjoying it.

Or enjoying something at least.

It made me happy and then confused. Happy again and then suspicious.

I kept going until he fell asleep.

Spent. Red-cheeked. Yet somewhat peaceful.

Despite hours having passed, I was still unable to go to sleep.

'Thirsty. I am thirsty.'

I made it out of the room without waking him up.

And downstairs without being caught by Roxy.

It was too early for her to be awake anyways.

However, I would usually hear some of the children sleeping and snoring from the room from my right. A crying baby. Or a toddler who woke up to go to the bathroom.

I used to always hear something around this time.

But no sound left the dark square. All of them were silent, at once. That was rare.

If not, unprecedented.

Not even only single sound.

I tried to remember a day when that has happened before. Stepping towards the room that was parallel to theirs only to rotate on my heel and turn on the lights for only a second. I got to catch a glimpse of their sleeping faces without waking them up.

They were all widely aghast.

Baby or toddler.

All quite pale. Gray. Or red.

I turned the lights on for a second again.

No movement. Not one face without a bit of gathered droll.

One more second of light.

One more second of dread.

It crawled from the wooden floor, climbed up my spine with its claws, and barged into my chest.

I turned around swiftly, almost running towards the cabinet from the other living room.

I swung it open and picked up the first bottle my hand has grazed.

Opened it up and drank it in intervals. Fast yet long intervals.

My throat was burning. My stomach was protesting.

Parts of my head were throbbing.

Starting to spin like a ballerina on a rotating platform.

There was only a bit left in the bottle as I stumbled back into the hallway and into the room with all the children.

I turned on the lights and kept them on. Passed by all the small cribs and beds.

Past the child that was by its bed, face down onto the floor. Twitching once every few seconds for a while. I watched him until he was as still as the bed.

Got to the window.

Put the bottle down on a low dresser and then spread my arms. Grabbing onto each side of the curtains.

And pulled them shut.

Strode to the doorframe, and succumbed the corpses in total darkness once again.

Hurried up the stairs with conviction.

Hate.

Fiery rage.

And then pushed the door to Roxy's room open without a slither of hesitation.

The lamp lights were still on.

From each corner of the room, they illuminated her lifeless body as it slightly swayed right and left from the ceiling.

I could only see the back of her head. The light blue gown. And her dancing shadow.

I stepped back.

And shut the door.

Capable of only staring at it for a while.

Forgetting to do anything but breathe.

My mind was blank.

But my vision was hazy. And my legs wanted to give in.

"No." I told myself and any ghost who happened to be listening.

And as I turned towards the guest bedroom, all I could think about was the folded piece of paper that was right underneath her floating feet.

Slammed the door open and reached the bed without truly seeing it.

I pulled him up and out of bed.

Jungkook was startled by the sudden force that thrashed him to the floor fully naked.

I dressed him up while he kept asking what I'm doing.

Kept asking for reasons for my behavior.

Kept interpreting my stern expression.

But only after he wouldn't raise his arms for me to lower the hoodie on, I said: "We need to leave."

"Why?!"

"You don't need to know why. You only need to walk. Now."

He argued against it.

But I was merely waiting for him to stop complaining during moments of lucidity with my arms crossed.

Momentary blackouts.

I knew what they were.

Momentary moments of no vision or sound. Taste or smell.

Loss of sense of self.

But they will subside. Or so I told myself.

I grabbed his arm and forced him towards the open door.

"Wait! Give me the damn shirt first..."

He took it out of my extended arm with a pout.

'You're cute,' I heard myself think from somewhere far away.

And then dragged him out the second the hoddie was on his torso.

We walked in long strides. Or I made him do it by doing it myself.

We trotted down the stairs and only stopped for me to unlock the front door.

It was a cold morning.

It was still dark.

"Isn't the car at Jimin's place?"

I opened the gate and walked straight towards the car.

"I guess not." He mumbled from behind me.

I found the keys hidden in the empty spot between the windshield and the hood.

"Can you at the very least tell me if it's bad?"

"It's bad." I let out when the world had color for a brief moment.

He got in without resisting.

Stumbled on my way to the driver's seat.

And then I drove us out of the street.

"Where are we going?"

Drove us to wherever the road was taking us.

"Do you have a plan for whatever's causing you to run away from your own house?"

The street lamps were there and then they were not.

Jungkook was there and then he wasn't.

'Was this in your plan?' I asked V that was staring at me through the rearview mirror.

Grinning in the backseat.

'I'm hungry.' He told me.

When sharp pain erupted from the center of the head, both eyes closed involuntarily.

"Can you please tell me something?! Anything!"

'I think I know what you want now.'

'You do?' He asked innocently, tilting his head forward.

'I really never wanted to do any harm...I was just...'

'I know.'

'But that doesn't change it, does it?'

'Not one bit.'

'I am sorry.'

'I know you are.'

'At least, take care of him.'

'I will. Promise.'

'You know...I've never fully trusted a single word that came out of your...'

I think I've slammed on the breaks more than once.

But nothing happened.

And as we were heading straight into a tree, I couldn't stop to ponder about it. There wasn't any time.

My head flew forwards along with the rest of my body and then my eyes couldn't see. My arms and feet wouldn't move. My ears couldn't hear. My lips couldn't move. My brain couldn't think.

The nothingness.

The black hole was finally embracing me.

It had its arms wrapped all around me.

A starry galaxy of stars and I was in the center of them.

Just being.

Nothing to do. Nothing to decide. Nothing to change. Nothing to say. Nothing to feel.

Nothing at all.

I was finally one with the darkness that had only started as a small hole and then got bigger and bigger as time went by.

Gazing down at the floating, bluish planet and thought my last human thought: 'What now?'

Jungkook's perspective:

I only ever wanted one thing.

I can give a million reasons why.

And I don't know which one is truer than the other one. Or perhaps, they could all be true at once.

But even with such a desire that was like a heartbeat that has kept me breathing throughout it all, I still think there can be a point when enough is enough.

When it can get so bad, you can't see a way of going back to a normal state of being.

It might've happened when I was born or it might've been the wish of whatever I was before I was human.

Regardless, I can't remember a moment in my life that didn't leave me feeling somewhat frightened of how something or someone could harm me. Or how it can't make me feel any better.

'Who would wish for this life?'

I think that what people don't like to admit is that desire creates everything. Even if you don't adhere to the fate written in the sky assumption. Even if you wish to repress your thoughts because the person who might've created you has also created possibilities that should remain forbidden like a fruit in a garden. Whatever the story, you don't really know the truth like you know where the top of your nose is. But it is certain that one day you will.

'What kind of soul would desire this?'

I think that what most humans don't like to admit to is the part of us that longs for the forbidden fruit. Those who feel negative emotions, drawn to negative emotions and experiences, then claim: They are the reason why I've done everything. But you're only punishing me!

Because if there is one thing that I know is true for me at this point in time is that we're all trying to survive with what we have or can have, and also that any punishment doesn't feel fair. Self-inflicted or not. Even when punishment comes in the form of your darkest, shameless, relentless, empty, and twisted wishes that you yourself can't admit to yourself. They too do occur.

But I know why we'd rather blame the script that has been written for you before birth, instead of our subconscious. Or the Hyde in our mind. The corner that we can never light up. The closet that's filled with skeletons that we can't even find anymore.

/Cause you have enough time to hear all your thoughts.

The ones you can't rid of.

Although, you might ignore some. Pay attention only to some. Act only on some.

It never seems like you can appease them all.

Some of them, we might not even hear. They just happen in a dimension that we have no control over.

So, what's free will in this context? I am yet to find a satisfactory answer.

However, we all wish for the bad stuff so that might mean we are the creators of our own reality.

To some degree conscious of it, to some degree not at all.

Hell, we might've chosen the lack of control too.

'Cause life happens to you and then you die.

You can't deny that implies a lack of control.

So maybe, just maybe, what if we wish for death so many times until it happens?

What if it's...natural for us to wish for ourselves to eat the most rotten red fruit that the world has to offer?

What if summer wants to end so winter can take over?

What if flowers wish to become other seeds, but they must perish first?

What if...what if humans get exactly what they deeply desire?

And not only that, they get the wishes they wish they never had either. The ones which pass through your mind's ear like annoying mosquitos.

The more you wish for death, the sooner you'll die. If desire creates reality, then this statement is somewhat true.

But what about the little children who don't even know they're dying? Who don't even have a conscious part in them yet?

And what I am asking is: How do you know that they don't?

Yet, this is what I believed at the moment.

I found a piece of my own dark corner and in it, I've discovered that I love people. Humans. So much so that I am scared of them.

So much so that it's making me afraid to begin liking them even a little bit more because one day I'm bound to eventually lose them. To time, to circumstance, to illness, to hate, to grief, or to betrayal. Whatever it is, something can take them away.

'That applies to me as well.'

What if tomorrow doesn't come? Why does it matter what I do today if tomorrow I, or tomorrow's whoever I love, will die?

It's not the usual: Nothing matters.

But it means something similar at first glance. Only that it's not.

That exhausted statement implies that no matter what you do, you can't save or destroy everybody. You can't make everybody happy at the same time, or healthy. Can't have every good outcome. No sir. Nothing truly matters.

That we're on a rotating planet in space and yet we're too concerned with our kind that we rarely seriously let ourselves ponder about that.

That our time is limited and yet we choose to inflict pain like hurting others does not hurt us.

In this case, the person doesn't care if they live or die. Who would, in their place?

But in my case, I wanted to live. I did. Because thinking so much about death did make me realize how little time I have. All the time.

Like someone's knocking on your door no matter what room you're in. Yes, when you're outside too.

The knock doesn't stop until you stop breathing.

Or at least, it never did for me.

But the dilemma doesn't lie in the act of wishing, but in the fear that tomorrow my feet will no longer be my feet.

They're not my favorite feet, but they were mine for as long as I've known myself. Or parts of myself.

In fear that tomorrow I won't be able to talk to anyone who is still alive.

I've always heard people talking about how toxic hating is. How it's like drinking poison that you've poured yourself.

But loving doesn't change death.

I wish it did, but I never saw proof of its immortality.

And loving is like watching someone else drinking the poison while you're drinking it too.

You'd give eternity to stop it, but it doesn't matter.

The wish for both of you to live forever is not something that can be granted. You can't have it.

And I truly hope one day I'll learn that assumption is not true.

I wish that to be my God.

'Cause, the waiting has to come to a halt.

Sooner rather than later, I might learn if humans or souls, stardust or aliens get that wish granted too.

I only ever wanted one thing.

And then I wanted to stay beside someone else forever.

I have a million reasons and one why.

But I also have a lot that tells me it'd be easier to hate instead of love.

Yet right now is the moment when one wish has killed the other.

The wish to be in the one state I loved being most was not worth the price of the wish that has only recently become conscious.

Brought to the light like a thorn under the snow that hasn't melted in years.

The good and the bad. They say it's within all of us.

And if they are correct, then they are both creating wishes.

My second wish got murdered before it even started.

As blood poured down from his forehead.

Eyes twitched until time stood still under closed eyelids.

I knew I couldn't go back right then and there.

Starting over. Pretending again. Or trying to use again.

Or try to find someone else whom I might want to be with.

Or be guiltily glad that my ban was officially lifted and I could smoke the rest of the days away.

Neither seemed possible.

The clock stopped.

I tried looking for a phone. But I didn't have one so I should've checked him too.

However, all I could do was stare at his face.

While a voice inside my mind kept repeating:

'His chest isn't moving. Nothing is moving. He might be dead. He's dead! Dead!'

'Fainted. He fainted.'

'Pulse? Find a pulse...'

I reached towards his wrist only to chicken out and dig my fingers into his pockets instead.

Glove compartment. Between seats.

Nothing.

No cars passing by.

Nothing in the back seat.

The smoke coming from the front of the car created a smoke circle around us.

No one would be looking for us either.

I dropped my head against the seat and continued to stare at him as tears came out of my eyes without warning.

They kept flowing.

And time seemed to be moving slower.

It was a natural kind of high.

One that feels like dying.

I felt like I was dying.

The space around me hurt. My whole body was now only a painful heartbeat.

The air wouldn't get into my lungs.

My eyes couldn't close.

I stopped thinking.

I was sober and for the first time, my mind went quiet.

A few whispers of the word dead followed by unbearable silence.

Two wishes were killed in one car accident.

'What kind of fair is this?'

And as I was being pulled out of the car, maybe hours or seconds later, I kept looking at him getting checked out by the paramedics.

"No pulse." They kept saying loudly.

And although it was selfish, I did hear one thought rush by: 'I think I'm dying too.'

As they laid me on a gurney, I could see the sky.

And that scared me more than death.

Their mouths kept moving, but I couldn't hear a thing besides this high-pitched noise that went on and on like a broken record.

I got up and struggled against the two of them. Wishing to be able to say the words: 'I am not leaving him. I need to go back to him.'

But my lips just wouldn't part.

I elbowed one of the men in the face and tried to kick the belt surrounding my waist at the same time.

I was injected with something after getting too tired to push back and fell into a sleep that I was sure meant that I have died too.

And found myself floating in a dark void.

And had the displeasure to find out that I was still alive after what felt like two minutes.

The white wall, the beeping sounds, and the dizziness were proof of that.

The fog. And the pain in my head.

Nothing came in or out of my mind.

'Cause now we had a new wish.

And that wish was within my power.

I could do it right now.

But I had to get to Namjoon's house first.

There wasn't a particular reason, but I just knew that's how I wanted to do it.

I pulled the needle out of my arm, grunting, and I was able to force my body into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

For a moment, wondering if bodies choose their hosts as well. Or if they are only able to feel and exist only when we are there. The mind or the soul. The DNA or the neurons. Perhaps the life itself, the one that is the fuel for all of them.

I felt apologetic to it all of a sudden but promised it will all be over soon.

If my body was a judge then it's been punishing me, but also enduring the impact of my decisions regarding what I've chosen to do with it and to it. And in this case, I agree that punishment would be just. However, I'd tell it the same thing: I was only surviving in you. In your world. In your court.

If it has only been sending me signs that what I'm doing is harming us, or that it was unaligned with my true self. Then it's always been an ally, and I've been a bad friend to it. And I am filled with regrets.

If I do have one argument, is that I simply wasn't able to do any better. But I believe that I've tried my best.

Lowered my foot, stepped on the cold floor, and walked towards the door.

I made it to its frame and then felt too dizzy to remain standing up.

I grabbed onto the frame before I slid closer to the floor and then sporadically breathed out my mouth while looking at my reflection in the white tiles.

Wide-eyed and pale.

And then the floor started glowing.

Swallowing up my reflection.

I hugged the frame, hyperventilating.

And stood still with both knees bent.

Closed my eyes and breathed in deeply.

Breathed out with all the will I was capable of.

'I can do this.'

Five more steps and I was intercepted by one of the nurses.

I couldn't hear a word she was saying.

But her tugging on my arm towards the room where I just came out gave me a good idea of the meaning behind her words.

I pulled back.

I tried running.

I fell down.

I got escorted back to the bed by two people.

And fell asleep after being injected with something else.

Sounds of doctors talking. Sounds of beeping.

Sounds of dripping.

My parents and my brother came over the next day.

I pretended to be asleep.

And after they wouldn't leave.

I faced them with open eyes. But did not say a word.

Did not answer one question.

Did not even look at them.

They were angry at first.

Then apologetic.

After that, just concerned.

I was discharged three days later.

And I've been diagnosed with selective mutism.

The car crash appeared in the news. Namjoon appeared in the news. I did not.

And after arriving at my brother's home, I sneaked out the second my brother was gone and his wife was busy with the child.

Walked through the familiar streets with confident steps.

Rarely blinking or thinking about anything besides what might get in the way.

I found the old man I slit my wrists in front of after hours of walking that felt like a daze. And I've shown him the article on Namjoon's death.

He didn't get emotional about it.

He understood.

And offered me a joint for free after I asked for it. For my loss. For our loss.

I also took his lighter.

My legs were shaking on my way to Namjoon's place.

Past the school and the red and green store.

Past the street that would've led to Jung's old place.

Past everything but not past Namjoon's house.

Opened the gate and tried opening the door without any success.

Circled the house many times and then just picked up the heavy, round, brown flower pot that now had a dead plant inside it and smashed it into the back door.

No alarm. Just glass that sang its last cry before it scattered across the low table and dusty, wooden floor.

I stepped in as if there were no shards and covered the door with a red sheet.

The whole room was painted red now.

I dropped my coat on the table and walked into his grandmother's room. That later became his room. And then, my room too.

Sat, legs crossed on the mattress. An action that has disturbed whatever cells caused it to suddenly start smelling weird, and making it hard to breathe at the same time.

Opened the palm of my hand and looked at the small joint.

I wanted to want it.

That was the only conflicting wish left.

But then I played my life forward and there was no Namjoon inside it. There were no good days. No good people. No happy endings. So, trying one more time didn't seem worth it anymore.

The last time I was in this place, I still had hope I would find something or someone to complete or save me. Whatever it was missing. To find it. Receive it. Have it.

So, I let the joint down on the blue blankets.

And flicked the lighter.

Leaned closer to the yellow, orange, and red flame.

Stared at it just like I had stared at Namjoon's face.

And then heard his voice saying: '"He set himself on fire."'

I closed my eyes and all wishes got killed by only one mere, perfectly clear wish.

Just like that. Nothing else mattered besides this wish. And everything else was blown out like the flames of a million candles in the wind.

But there was no wind in this room.

So, the tiny flame flew on top of the blanket without being extinguished out of existence.

And now there was a bigger flame eating the blanket away.

'I wish to be with you.'

-The End-

AN: Thank you for reading.