1 I

Thick red blood trickling down his leg. large beads of sweat dominating his face. Harrowing torment haunting his mind.

"Jimin lets go!" a faint voice was shouting.

He began to stand and was blankly staring at the lifeless corpse that was laying in front of him, blonde hair askew, body twisted in unnatural angles, the angelic face that moments before was filled with nothing but the unadulterated agony now laid at rest, looking peaceful. It was everything but peaceful now. Strong arms gripping Jimin tightly and were dragging him backwards, he was feeling too overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted so he didn't put up a fight, just letting whomever it was pull him away, he didn't care anymore, he didn't have him anymore.

There's no point. No point.

"Jimin, I know that you loved him but we have to go, you need to focus on here and now or we're going to end up with the same fate."

Anger. Betrayal. Acceptance. Void.

"At least I'll be able to be with him," He whispers, solemnly.

"Jimin, it's not safe here anymore, we need to go now otherwise we're putting ourselves in unnecessary danger,"

Jimin said no more, it was fruitless, they weren't going to listen. He just ran with them, ducking when bullets began spraying all around him, diving to safety when the attackers came into view, running, never fighting. Eventually, they all manage to escape, all but one. The one who means the most to Jimin. The one who dedicates his time and effort to Jimin, even when he was pushed away. The rain above them pelts down in harsh blasts, it feels like it's piercing their bare skin, but Jimin was already feeling worse pain. Heartache.

The rest of the day's events went by in a blur, interviews from the police, parents crying, fighting, many people approaching him with condolences, demands to pay for the death of their son, blaming Jimin for the death of their only child, his fiance, his world. More fighting, more questions, news reporters trying to get answers, pain, pain, pain. Jimin was like a zombie, lifeless, emotionless, cold. His parents discussed the best possible solution for their son, and it came down to one thing.

Moving back to Korea.

A week goes by and Jimin is on a flight back to Korea, the earliest one they could book, but to Seoul this time, not Busan. They don't think it would be healthy for Jimin to be overwhelmed and bombarded with the family members. It's not their fault, but that's the kind of people the Park family are, lively, bubbly, vibrant. Everything Jimin isn't right now.

He didn't say goodbye to his friends, the people who went through the exact same torment as him, he couldn't bring himself to. He put their lives at risk when they ran back for him, saving him, they were seconds away from dying, bullets inches away from penetrating their skin, hitting vital organs working desperately to keep them alive and going. He wasn't going to let anyone else get hurt, and if that meant removing himself from everybody's lives then so be it.

The new home is pretty spacious, three stories, and to give Jimin space that he needs as advised by the paramedics who checked him over after the incident, and the hospital staff when they went for a check up the next day. His parents give Jimin the entire third floor to himself, including his own bathroom. Jimin is grateful, but he doesn't know how to express himself.

Days went by and Jimin falls into a routine, stay in bed and sip on water as and when he felt like he was on the verge of dehydration. Extremely unhealthy. Mr and Mrs Park are plagued with concern about the long-term effects this will have on their eldest son, so they do something any loving and caring parent would do. They begin to seek help. They come across a well recommended psychiatric company, the reviews were brilliant so they ring up and schedule a meeting for them to meet and evaluate Jimin.

Jimin isn't happy about this.

"I don't want to go,"

"Jimin, honey, you're going to kill yourself at this rate! You're not eating, you're not drinking, you're sleeping all the time. It's clear you're depressed and rightfully so, what you went through was traumatic. But you need help."

"I'm fine, I'm not opening up to anyone, let alone a random stranger with a diploma,"

"You're starting school again soon, who would you rather talk to? Kids working towards their qualifications or a mature adult who's specialised in this field,"

"Nobody,"

Mr and Mrs Park stare at their son and wonder what kind of parents they are, allowing their child to turn out this way, to allow life to traumatise such a bright and capable boy and turn him into an introverted lifeless vessel. Jimin looks up and see the raw and broken looks on his parents' faces, knowing instantly they're blaming themselves for what happened, and he feels bad. He's punishing them for what happened, they only want the best for him. But they just don't understand.

"One," Jimin agrees, quietly.

"Pardon?" Mrs Park asks.

"One session, if I don't like him, that's it, no more," He replies.

They both sigh in relief. "That's all we can ask for."