Chapter Text
His parents were arguing. Again. Or more like just his father throwing insults and screaming at the top of his lungs. Like everyday when he would get home late and drunk. And sadly when he was drunk he got nasty.
And violent.
Eight-year-old Jimin moved softly under the cover of his bed, trying to block out his father's insults and his mother's terrified cries. But it was okay, he was used to it by now. He was used to the daily fights and the sounds of objects smashing against the walls of their house.
Though it hadn't always been like this. They used to be happy. Kind of. He used to have a normal childhood with parents who actually cared about him. But slowly his parents had grew distant from each other. His mother withdrawn and his father violent and careless. But he was okay, it was between his parents after all.
He was trying to not care.
Trying.
"SHUT UP!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" Roared his father, making Jimin jump slightly out of fear, his heart beating faster.
As always when he wanted to block out the late night screams of his parents, he reached under his bed to find the little radio post his grandmother had given him for his birthday. The red radio was all shabby and vintage but it was enough. The little boy then moved back under his covers with the object in his tiny, chubby hands. He searched eagerly for his favorite radio station, turning the button slowly as his mother muffled sobs echoed in the tiny house. He finally found the soothing melody of creaking violins and immediately recognized Winter by Antonio Vivaldi. The eight-year-old boy had grown to deeply love classical music after all those hours listening to sweet piano recitals, and always ended up falling asleep to its music. As the symphony grew in crescendo, he felt as if he was floating in the air, much like the crystal notes of the solo violin. He pictured himself dancing and twirling gracefully to the melody and, as he danced in his mind, moves as sharp and precise as the orchestra's notes were, he softly and calmly slipped into a peaceful slumber. The little boy's lids slowly closed, a small smile tugging at his lips.
As the melody died, Jimin's mother cut her wrists open.
"I'm sorry..."
★★★
Jimin woke up with a jump in his bed, heart beating fast and breath laboured. He suddenly realized that he was now in BTS's dorm in Seoul, Hoseok hyung sleeping at the other side of their shared room. He tucked his head between his knees and tried to calm his breathing down, inhaling sharply.
It's okay. You're fine. You're safe. He said to himself, not really believing it.
It was just a dream, or more like a memory. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to supress the horrifying picture of his mother's wrists oozing blood.
"Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking."
" Stop." He whispered angrily to himself as a mantra supposed to calm his racing heart. Jimin shakily got up from his now dishevelled bed, legs feeling wobbly. As he crossed the room he was careful to not wake up Hoseok who seemed to sleep peacefully while drooling on his pillow. He opened quietly the door of their room with shaking hands.
Air. I just need some air. Jimin said to himself as he crossed the messy living room of their dorm. He opened the balcony door, sit on the nearest chair, and took a deep breath of the night breeze. The boy could now relax as the cold of the night froze slowly his limbs. After a little while, he finally didn't felt like his heart was beating painfully fast against his ribcage anymore and thus he let himself get lost on the welcomed numbness that took over his whole body. He looked upon the balcony, taking the sight of the high buildings of Seoul shining in the (because of the lights) not so dark night.
He liked Seoul. It was a huge city always living and in movement. It didn't hold back bad memories. Alike Busan. The only person that attached him to Busan was his grandmother, Jisung. She was his only family, the only person who took care of him when he ran away from his father. The only person who cheered him up and gave him love and comfort when he needed it the most. The only person who was here for him when he got bullied and harassed at school.
Not like his father would’ve cared.
It had been a while now that he hadn't dreamt of his childhood. He had tried for years already to suppress those dreadful memories in the depths of his mind but they kept torturing him tirelessly.
Over and over.
Always.
"Stop. Stop thinking like that." He muttered angrily to himself as he took his head between his hands and tugged harshly at his orange strands. It was now more than ten years that Jimin's mother Park Mi Young, had taken her own life that night, cutting her wrists open with a razor blade while Jimin was asleep and his father had passed out in the nearest pub after leaving the house. Jimin had found her the next morning. She was lying on the bathroom's floor.
Lifeless.
Oh and a lot of blood, but dried crimson blood. It had been everywhere, sticking to her skin, her raven hair, her wrists, the bathroom's tiles, her clothes. But what haunted Jimin wasn't the blood. It was her eyes, empty of life, empty of their usual brightness.
Dull and dead eyes.
"Jimin?"
The sweet voice of the Golden Maknae took him out of his trance, suddenly realizing the dawn was already showing up and the city was stirring. Jimin wondered how much time he had spend staring blankly at the dark, mind wandering far away. His dongsaeng was standing warily at the entrance of the balcony, his doe eyes watching him with curiosity. His raven hair was dripping wet, probably from a shower he just took, as a towel was hanging around his neck.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, concern showing in his voice and the frown on his face.
"I-I don't know, just wanted to get some fresh morning air I guess" The older boy answered with his well known crescent eye smile. A forced smile.
"You're weird hyung" said his dongsaeng as he shot Jimin a soft smile of his own, his worry disappearing.
"Let's get inside, it's cold here" added Jungkook while shivering. Jimin followed the younger in the kitchen and watched him as he fetched himself cereal.
His favorites. Jimin curiously always remembered the smallest details about Jungkook.
"And can you tell me why you're already up? Usually I have to coax you out of bed." Asked the older while leaning lazyly on their small kitchen counter.
"I was hungry" responded jungkook as evidence, his mouth already full of cereal.
"Don't speak with your mouth full, you brat!" Jimin scolded him as a smile crept on his lips, hitting Jungkook playfully on the arm. The latter ignored him and continued to eat his breakfast.
"Mornin'" muttered a dishevelled Taehyung. He was still wearing his pyjama, face blotchy and his eyes droopy. The sleepy boy dragged himself to the counter as well and rested his head on his hand, his eyes already closing. Namjoon quickly followed behind him and sit down beside him with an angry frown.
"This goofhead stayed up until three a.m. playing Overwatch. I can't believe it. Aish this kid..." he whined, shaking his head.
"You're lucky I'm a heavy sleeper" he added while pouring himself juice. Jimin snickered lightly from the scene as he sipped his daily protein shake.
"I've reached the Master level" grumbled a still half asleep Taehyung. The maknae abruptly raised his head from his bowl, his eyes wide open in surprise.
"Seriously, hyung??" squealed out an excited Jungkook. Taehyung finally raised his head and offered him a proud smile. The two started to speak enthusiastically, already lost in their virtual world. Not sharing their interest for video games, Jimin quickly got up and went to the bathroom he shared with Hoseok to get himself ready for the busy day.
As he brushed his teeth, his roommate entered the little bathroom to do the same.
"Hey, you okay Jimin-ah? I heard you leave the room in the middle of the night" asked the older, concern mode fully on.
"Ah, sorry hyung, I had a nightmare and didn't really want to go back to sleep after it..." answered Jimin as he avoided Hoseok’s meticulous gaze.
"It's okay. What was it about?" Jimin took a deep breath. He could tell Hoseok. Tell him he had a nightmare that night. He could just seek comfort in the older's warm and caring arms, telling him all about the vivid scene always haunting him, his dreams, his thoughts.
No. Everything is fine. I'm fine. No need to bother him anyway.
Jimin shrugged and feigned indifference.
"No clue. Must have forgotten"