"Every night, the same dream. Every morning, the same nightmare."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jimin shifts his position from left to right, rolling on the bed, making little to no noise at all, trying not to wake the ones beside him. Facing the strong wall beside him, the window covered with a curtain blocking the little moonlight yearning to penetrate through the little peephole, Jimin looked around the vivid darkness that surrounds him.
Jimin felt the tears sting his eyes, trying not to make a single sound as Jimin felt his chest hurt, his own self-pity, and the helplessness Jimin is in covering him like a cocoon.
Within no time at all, the tears could be felt rolling down his eyes hitting the pillow with a soft splash of the drop falling down near his ears- Jimin turned around to see if he had woken the people beside him with that little, unheard drop of tears.
Nope.
Jimin turned around, back to the wall, tears falling down harder and faster as Jimin made no attempt to wipe them off his eyes.
He just let them fall heedlessly down to the pillow.
Jimin holds back hiccuping as he feels his breath shortened; he tries to fix his labored breathing back to the rhythmic phase.
That is when Jimin heard his lover's sleepy voice echoing in his ears into the head, "Are you okay, love?"
Jimin turns around to face him, the tears decorating his eyes could never be seen through the darkness that surrounds them; yet, Jimin made no attempt to conceal his lover with reassuring words like he always does with others.
Jimin could feel him shift, wake up and lean against him, his tender hands gently cradling his face as Jimin looked up to him.
Jimin could see him; he was not so vivid, yet not so blur either.
Jimin could feel his breath on him, his soft hands cupping Jimin tenderly before he gently whispered to Jimin, "What's wrong, Jimin, baby?"
"It hurts," Jimin whispered, hating himself for letting his voice break to the tears.
Jimin could tell that his expressions softened, though Jimin really couldn't see him vividly, as he held his arms open, lying down dangerously close beside him, urging Jimin to fall into his arms.
Jimin surrenders himself into his lover, letting his lover spoon him entirely, letting himself fall into his safe world, his safe place - his arms. He spooned Jimin back, not uttering a single word as though he understood Jimin's state, as though he could read his mind, as though he knew exactly what to do.
Jimin was hearing his lover's heartbeat against his ears, the rhythm paced more steadier than himself, more calmer than himself, which was palpitating against his own ears at a rapid pace.
Jimin takes in his scent, the faint smell of his cologne filling him up with a sense of calmness after the storm.
Jimin could feel his lover's hand caressing his nape softly, as though he urges to calm his stress hormones down, as though he wants Jimin to fix his breathing back to a steady rate, as though he seeks to stop Jimin from crying, stop Jimin from hurting.
"Thank you," Jimin whispered, trying to get those simple words to mean so much that Jimin just cannot seem to voice out.
"Sush, love. Don't you worry about anything and sleep."
With a deep breath of relief hitting him up, Jimin tries to close his eyes, trying to let the tiredness take the best of him, more with his love caressing his nape, fumbling softly with the messy locks of Jimin's, gently whispering to Jimin in his ears that he's going to be there for Jimin, always.
Jimin placed his head on his lover's chest, toned chests, as he was smiling to himself, reminding himself that Jimin is so lucky to have someone like him in his life.
...
Jimin woke up, squinting his eyes to the newfound light hearing a soft voice near his ear, the soft voice of his mother, alarming Jimin with a "it's 8 am already. You're gonna be late. "
Jimin looked around his room, looking for him, looking for his love, when Jimin suddenly felt the harder soft mattresses that Jimin is currently lying on. Jimin was so tempted to look around the house for him, scolding him for leaving him alone on the cold bed - nothing should be more important than his love cuddling him to sleep.
But then the realization hit him, the harsh truth, the harsh reality that Jimin is in makes him want to tear up all over again; but it is the day, Jimin could see the light, people would see him, hear him, feel bad for him.
Jimin hides, again, just like everyday - hides his pain, which no one understands, which no one seems to care about, which is not really a huge deal yet is breaking him apart so damn much, yet is ripping his soul apart- which no one really notices.
"Get moving, sweetheart." Jimin could hear his mother shouting from the kitchen, urging him to get ready to start the day, as Jimin tried real hard to get over the disappointment.
Jimin pulls himself down the bed, finding his way to wardrobe, imagining vividly his pierced lips kissing Jimin tenderly, him spooning Jimin in his arms, tenderly, so tenderly, with so much feeling that is almost too good to be true- Jimin scoffs upon the realization before looking straight into his own eyes in the bedroom mirror.
Self pity. Hatred. Unloved. No one cares.
'Stop whining, Park Jimin', Jimin scolded himself, staring into the reflection of the shimmering crescent eyes, with pure self hatred. 'You aren't a kid.'
Jimin could feel his eyes sting with familiar tears that no one knew about, making him hate himself even more.
Weak. Pathetic. Unloved.
Unloved.
No one loves me.
With the very same realization, Jimin picked the hoodie with a little sigh - if only they knew the reason why Jimin wears a hoodie every day to college.
What shall Jimin do, for this person who loves him does not exist. He is just a mere echo.
His voice, his touches, his tenderness, his love, everything is just the echoes of the dark.
Echoes of his dark.
...
"Good morning, mother," Jimin greets his mother, who was stirring the pot on the stove as he gently massaged his wrists - he had overdone it.
He never meant to go deeper, just a few cuts to make him feel in control, make him feel as though he dares, dares to cut, has the will to cut himself, as though he was not the weak male who hesitated to cut due to the fear and pain it must cause him but no more.
According to Park Jimin, he is proving himself that he ain't the weak, pathetic male he used to be.
His eyes shifts to his father, who was smoking by the balcony as usual - his usual morning routine is to chain smoke till his lungs burn and hurt, which he would numb with the alcohol, getting drunk enough to numb his pain, which in turn numbs his thought process, not knowing what and when he does things.
Due to which his mother and father fights a lot - the fights getting dirtier and dirtier every day, adding up to Jimin's misery of life.
At least he doesn't smoke inside the house, Jimin would reason out to himself, an attempt to make him feel better. Park Jimin absolutely hates the stinking smell of smoke.
And this attempt to make himself feel okay, better, makes him feel like a narcissist, who has a reason to every single thing to not take the blame to themselves, but Jimin could not help it.
"Morning, son" his mother greeted. "I might ask you to wait a few minutes for breakfast, yeah? "
The only better thing about Jimin's life is that his mother won't yell at him, won't shout or abuse him- she is a sweet woman, but he cannot say the same thing about his father. His father, though might not get physical with him, yells out some piercing words, stinging words, shouting at him in public making Jimin resent public even more.
In addition to the anxiety, that is.
What caused an anxiety disorder in him- it is complicated, according to the doctors. Jimin had refused to speak to anyone about the triggers, about the cause of this deadly disorder.
But he had always been anxious in public, not wanting to ever interact with people at all, shuddering at normal touches, trembling during a presentation, overthinking before he speaks - he had the signs.
Yet, no one ever expected things to get so bad.
So bad that he hates people.
Jimin's mother noticed him sitting by the table, her eyes filling with concern as she noticed her son fumbling with his own hands, who seemed to her was dealing with his own misery, all by himself.
His mother was, is and will always be concerned about Jimin's anxiety and does as much as she can to help her son, take her son out of the misery, but she has her own sets of miseries to deal with- her husband, who gives her an every day migraine.
Obviously, the best she could do for her son isn't goon enough, Jimin hardly speaks about his triggers, about his disorder and she does not want to force her son into speaking, making things worse for her little one.
She hopes Jimin finds someone he loves, someone who Jimin does not mind opening up to, someone who would heal Jimin.
The only person Jimin doesn't mind letting close, close as in to the highest proximity that he is willing to show his vulnerable side - the side which hated himself, the side of harming himself, the side with he would never dare to show his parents is the guy who loves him. His echo.
He is hope.
Jimin's hope.
That guy was Jimin's ideal yearning to be loved back by someone - anyone - and it needs to be true love, real love who loves him like that guy- Jimin's echo.
The echoes of Jimin's dark.
Just to know how loving feels like.
Just to know how being loved back feels like.
Yet Jimin does not have a single spark of hope that he will be loved. Not by a single person. No one. He ought to be unloved. He ought to be dealing with his own misery for the rest of his life, all by himself.