suffoquer

Grief is gnawing at the soul from the inside

      January 15th, 05:00 PM.       He closes his eyes and once again feels the consuming pain, which seemed like an endless sea of suffering with no bottom and no end. The embodiment of pain, in his understanding, appeared as the emptiness of the human inner space. This was the excess within him, which is why he died every day. And, to his great regret, he was reborn, like a Phoenix. However, unlike the bird, he did not possess the power and superiority described in many legends about these mythical creatures. His resurrections often meant only the prolongation of his suffering. He burned to ashes, but his dust scattered irretrievably. And each time, rising anew from the ruins, he relived the agony of destruction.       But despite the complexity of the algorithm of life, he enjoyed such a state, which was for him something akin to a peculiar pleasure. Park Jimin was a completely abstract personality, characterized by detachment from the everyday world. Engaged in exploring his inner worldview and life position. Perhaps, this was the only thing that made him human, rather than a perishable body with a dead soul.       Holding the cigarette between his fingers, he repeatedly brought it to his plump lips, took a drag, holding the smoke inside himself for a few minutes, so that the acidic mixture of air permeated every cell of his body, especially his lungs, with the goal of suffocating himself with it. Every day, he killed himself, slowly and painfully. Within his dreams was to die from cancer or other respiratory diseases. That's why he smoked over fifty cigarettes a day, which was a large amount for a young man. The cruelty of life breeds, for in his childhood, Park not only did not want to see, but he did not want to hear the word "cigarette," as it turned him inside out, like rain-soaked clay, falling apart. The basis for such hateful feelings towards a simple object was his surroundings, as absolutely everyone used tobacco products. His mother would hold a pipe with smoke between her lips for days on end. His father, grandfather, grandmother. All of his relatives. The irony lies in the fact that Jimin himself became a chain smoker, which makes him want to laugh and cry. But, unlike the others, he smoked not for pleasure but to harm himself. The hatred for cigarettes did not diminish, on the contrary, it only grew.       Under his eyes, black bags had formed, a clear sign of his sleepless nights. He suffered from chronic insomnia. Every night, he would take a strong sedative prescribed by his doctor, but it couldn't tame his raging mind. Park would only get about four hours of rest before plunging back into a state of drowsy apathy. Throughout the day, he aimlessly wandered somewhere outside of reality.       All he could do was drift in emptiness for hours, looking through himself with a vacant gaze. Even the simplest tasks required an overwhelming effort of will. His days were gray and monotonous. Indifferently, he walked the same road every time, leading to the factory where he worked from morning till evening. His body moved mechanically, like an old, worn-out machine. Previous hobbies, like the park or chess, everything that had once brought him joy, now seemed like futile illusions.       Risk, the intoxication of alcohol, or the euphoria of drugs became Jimin's last refuge. Step by step, the young man irreversibly degraded. His once toned and healthy skin turned pale, almost translucent. He looked like a living dead, a zombie existing rather than living.       Standing up from his bed, Jimin made his way to the balcony. He opened the window, and the icy breath of winter touched his cheek. The wind tousled his golden hair, and clouds of steam escaped his mouth from the unbearable cold. He shivered and huddled, wearing only a silk shirt that barely covered his skin, and thin pants that seemed to offer no protection at all. Jimin couldn't tear his gaze away from the snow-covered courtyard below. Children played in the snow, building snowmen and having snowball fights. Jimin envied them. He would do anything to go back to carefree childhood days, when the only priorities were playing with friends and watching new episodes of his favorite cartoon.       Taking a deep breath of the cold air, an unpleasant chill ran through him, his skin being particularly sensitive. After a flurry of thoughts, Jimin looked at the window, where frost patterns had formed on the glass. He traced them with his index finger, drawing the symbols of his hidden thoughts. Sometimes it was swirling snowflakes, other times it was runes whose meaning only he knew. On the last untouched pane, a phrase from some book unexpectedly came to his mind: “The harmony of soul and body — how beautiful it is!”. Quickly writing it down, Jimin paused and began to burn the words he had written with his gaze. His heart fluttered, and the thought came to his mind: “Oh, should I know this connection of soul and body and their unity?”       For Jimin, “harmony” was like a cloak that enveloped us, protecting us from the harsh conditions of the outside world, allowing us to seek and enjoy moments of peace and tranquility. Like sunlight passing through colored glass, a state of harmony brings pleasure, pleasant sensations, and calmness. And when it comes to the harmony of soul and body, where every movement is in mutual agreement, a person feels their rhythm and follows it, experiencing pleasures regardless of external ailments. Such idyll was completely absent for Park, everything had been exhausted in the distant past.       With a heavy sigh, he returned to his room, leaving the balcony with the windows wide open.       Jimin reached out to the top shelf of the bookcase, where his favorite books were kept. He preferred reading in electronic format, buying print versions only for the books he truly loved. His collection of acquired bestsellers mainly consisted of literary classics, collections of lyrical miniatures, philosophical works, and psychological thrillers. Jimin had the least affinity for works dedicated to the psychological aspects of human nature. In his view, they did little to solve problems, only speculating about their nature and generating temporary inspiration. Perhaps such writings helped some people gain insight, but he hadn't encountered them yet.       Taking one of the long untouched books, Jimin blew off the dust that had settled on its cover. It had been a while since he had tidied up his sparsely inhabited abode.       Jimin found the underlined passage as he flipped to page thirty-two: “Apart from emotions, nothing can heal the soul, just as nothing but the soul can heal emotions. It is one of the greatest mysteries of life — to heal the soul through emotions, and emotions through the soul.” Jimin pondered over what he had read. And then, for clarity, he found a comparison: “Just as medicinal herbs heal the body, but they grow thanks to the earth. So the soul and emotions nourish and heal each other in the circle of life.” Turning to page eighty-seven, Jimin voiced another line: “The soul and the body, the body and the soul — what a puzzle it is!” Yes, he fully shared this thought. How strange and different these two elements are within a person, yet how closely they are connected! Through the body, we fulfill the needs of the soul, and through the soul, we fulfill the needs of the body. Although we do not perceive the soul physically, it makes itself known because it is who we are. And thanks to our body, we manifest the desires and whims of the soul, that is, our own.       His trance of thoughts was interrupted by a doorbell. Jimin glanced in surprise towards the entrance. Who could be coming to him, considering he had no contact with anyone from his surroundings, except for his neighbor who should be at work right now? Ignoring the ringing, Jimin continued to sit on the couch. But the bell wouldn't stop, and on the tenth time, he finally mustered the courage to head towards the hallway, opening the door and blurting out:       — Who's there, damn it? — he froze in his tracks, waiting for a response.       In front of him stood a guy of medium height in a fluffy jacket and warm trousers, pink blush from the cold cold was visible on his face. White snowflakes settled in her black hair, melting under the warm light of the lamp. His eyes are the color of deep night, darkened with confusion.       Jimin quickly composed himself and took a step back to let the person inside, calmly bombarding them with questions.       — Yoongi? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in Germany? Why didn't you let me know you were coming back to Seoul?       — I called you, a lot. I sent messages. But you didn't even check them, let alone reply, — Min stated, his voice trembling slightly, showing his agitation.       Jimin remembered his phone, which had broken a week ago, but he didn't say anything, just staring into Yoongi's eyes — dark and intense, like a night lake. Min continued:       — I was really worried! Why didn't you answer me? Did I do something wrong, or did you get upset? And what's with your appearance... — Park pressed his finger to his lips, preventing further words from being spoken.              — Take off your clothes, I'll make tea, and then we can talk, — Jimin was about to walk away when the brunette grabbed his thin wrist and pulled him closer, ensnaring him in his embrace, holding onto him tightly with hands that Jimin couldn't break free from. These decisive and passionate touches were filled with strength and longing for the person, pushing the rest of the world away, leaving only two bodies entwined in a tight embrace. After a minute, Park spoke. — Alright, let's go, — but Yoongi held on even tighter, strengthening his hold on Jimin's back.       — Wait, let's just stand like this a little longer, I missed you, — Min replied, burying his face in Jimin's neck, inhaling the familiar scent. Jimin didn't resist, continuing to stand like that for an indefinite amount of time. At some point, Yoongi let go of Jimin himself, and he immediately ran to the kitchen.       Yoongi took off his shoes and entered the apartment, examining the design. The white walls had yellowed over the years. Near the bedroom door, there were large clocks, their peaceful ticking filling the silence. Across from them hung a replica of the "Mona Lisa" and a portrait of Jimin, painted by Yoongi. The brunette approached them, getting closer to take a closer look: a thin layer of dust had settled on the paintings. He wrinkled his nose and sneezed, just as he heard a voice asking him to hurry up, or the tea would get cold.       The young man hurriedly washed his hands in the bathroom and cast another curious glance at the paintings. Nothing had changed in the decor in the three years that had passed.       The state of the kitchen was almost the same: an old set of furniture, an electric stove, and a refrigerator adorned with magnets. A small table was pressed against the wall, with wooden stools placed beside it. Yoongi settled on one of the stools, while Jimin sat opposite him, placing the tea leaves on the scooter table.       — Do you want mint tea or raspberry? Maybe both together? — the blond asked.       — No need. I'll just have black tea, — Yoongi replied, extending the cup of tea to him. Pouring himself a hot drink, he added mint, raspberry, and a whopping ten spoons of sugar. Yoongi looked at him in surprise, his eyes silently asking, "Isn't that too much?" Jimin understood the question but didn't say anything, only stretching a smile.       They sat in silence for exactly ten minutes, raising their cups to their lips and lowering them. The silence was comfortable for Jimin, but Yoongi felt a strong discomfort, unsure of how to start the conversation. After several years, the ease and comfort that once existed between them had disappeared. Looking at Jimin's face, he saw a different person, recognizing only his physical appearance, while a clear imprint of time was evident in him. Like a dead man, Yoongi thought to himself.       Examining the blond, he noticed a small scratch on his collarbones, leading down beneath his shirt. Yoongi furrowed his brows and, after thinking for a moment, abruptly reached out towards Jimin's clothing, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his blouse, fully exposing his collarbones. Jimin froze in astonishment, examining the small but deep wound, accompanied by a mild burn. He immediately backed away, getting up from the stool.       — What are you doing? — he exclaimed.       — What happened to your body? Where did these injuries come from? — Yoongi asked, concerned.       — It's certainly none of your business, — Jimin coldly replied.       — It is my business! — he raised his voice. — Please, tell me what happened to you? Maybe someone is hurting or abusing you? Don't stay silent, Jimin, — the brunette shouted.       — Stop yelling, you know how much I hate noise, — Jimin snapped rudely. — As for the wounds, I inflicted them myself, — he admitted honestly.       Yoongi immediately fell silent, shocked by what he had heard. Jumping up, he quickly approached Jimin, grabbing the collar of his clothes and forcefully tearing the buttons apart, ripping the fabric to shreds. Jimin didn't make a sound, only observing Yoongi's reaction. On the contrary, intriguing feelings awakened within him, as he became curious about how this complicated situation would unfold, which he already found himself enjoying.       Yoongi's eyes were drawn to the pink nipples with piercings, the prominent ribs, and the sunken abdomen. But the most noticeable were the bruises, scratches, dried blood, two burns, and hematomas. It looked horrifying.       — Why? — Yoongi asked. Jimin smiled widely and looked at him with a spark in his eyes.       — I like it. By inflicting pain on myself, I feel more alive, — he answered too simply, as if it were completely normal.       — You've gone mad, — Yoongi said.       — I've always been crazy, — Jimin replied, walking towards the window sill and taking out a cigarette, igniting it with a lighter. He took a deep drag, feeling satisfaction as he tilted his head back.       — You're probably surprised that I smoke, right? I started just a month after you left for Berlin three years ago.       Yoongi was grim, his fingers turning white, his jaw clenched. Jimin, however, lowered his head and looked at him, continuing:       — If you're curious, I still hate cigarettes, but I still smoke them, fifty a day. When do you think I'll die of cancer? — he wondered aloud, lost in thought. — Although I'll have to wait a long time, as long as I have the patience, I'm willing to wait for the desired outcome.       Taking another drag, he approached Yoongi and pressed himself against him. He exhaled the smoke slowly into the boy's face. Their eyes met, silently engaging in a conversation.       — So that's why you always refused to video chat? Always finding excuses and reasons. But why? — Yoongi struggled to find the strength to ask.       — I live in an old neighborhood, the connection is always bad here, that's the reason. If I had told you the whole truth, I wouldn't have been able to see all the emotions in you like I can now, — Jimin admitted.       — Learning about all of this, I would have come earlier. I would have helped you, come for you, — Yoongi said.       — There's no point in that, you can't help me. And help with what, anyway? I'm just ordinary, like everyone else, just a bit different with my antics. But didn't you yourself say that every person should be individual in their own way? Well, I'm just following your advice, — Jimin stated, as if mocking, his words dripping with sarcasm.       Yoongi listened, his gaze filled with silent reproach.       — It hurts me to see you do this to yourself. I still find it hard to understand the reason, — he finally replied quietly.       — And you don't need to understand, just accept it as a fact, — Jimin shrugged and sat back on his chair.       For Min, it became clear that helping Park was pointless. He was driving himself towards self-destruction, with no desire to improve his situation. Only Jimin had the power to decide whether to continue sowing the seeds of harm. No one but him could correct and redirect the situation. Yoongi decided to accept the fact that had been said earlier. He would silently observe where all of this would lead.       Yoongi, still not saying anything, swallowed hard and followed Jimin's lead. And once again, a heavy silence hung in the air, with a jumble of thoughts reigning in their minds. They both seemed to search for a solution in each other's eyes, but found only their own reflection.       — I'm hungry, — Jimin spoke up, trying to lighten the atmosphere.       — I can cook something, — Yoongi offered, wanting to bring some order to his thoughts in a calmer atmosphere. He stood up and headed towards the refrigerator, opening it only to find it nearly empty, aside from some spoiled milk and two containers—one containing mint, and the other containing raspberries.       — There's nothing here. When was the last time you bought groceries? — Min turned around and asked Jimin.       — Honestly, I don't remember. Maybe it was two months ago, or five, I can't say for sure, — Jimin replied.       — Then what have you been eating all this time? — Yoongi asked, and yawned.       — I've been going to cafes or eating instant ramen, — the boy answered.       — I see. Well, I'll go get some groceries then. Stay here.       — Well, I don't really have anywhere else to go, to be honest.       Casting one last glance at Jimin, Yoongi walked down the corridor, put on his jacket and boots, and disappeared behind the door. It was very cold outside. The gloomy winds made it instantly dark. There were only a few children left in the courtyard, their presence indicating the presence of some drunken troublemakers, probably playing a bottle game near the entrance. One of them had even pulled his pants down to his thighs, shamelessly exposing himself for all to see. Yoongi merely grimaced in disgust and quickened his pace.       In the store, after gathering all the necessary items, he approached the cashier, where a woman was arguing with the cashier about the high prices and how she refused to pay such a price for milk. Others were also getting frustrated and demanding to hurry up with the transaction, but the woman was persistent and unwavering, trying to evoke sympathy by claiming that her children were extremely hungry and had nothing to eat. Yoongi's patience was also wearing thin, like everyone else's, and in the end, unable to hold back, he approached them.       — How much do you need? — he asked irritably.       — 1880 won, — "That's all," he thought. He opened his wallet and paid for the woman, who didn't even bother to thank him before quickly disappearing. Letting out a relieved sigh, the cashier began scanning his purchases. Yoongi paid and left, heading back home to Jimin.       As he reached the designated floor, he became alert — the door was wide open. He frowned and entered the apartment.       — Jimin? — he called out, taking off his shoes.       When Jimin entered the kitchen, there was no one there. He placed the bags on the table and noticed a note. Taking it, he read: "I'm on the rooftop, come there". Yoongi chuckled.       — Well, I don't really have anywhere else to go, — he repeated Jimin's words and yet still made his way upstairs. Jimin was just too unpredictable for Yoongi.       Slowly opening the hatch on the rooftop, Jimin looked around and spotted the guy lying in the snow, staring at the heavy, dark clouds that occasionally flashed with lightning. The guy approached him, looking down from above.       — Why are you wearing just a shirt and pants? — he asked. — You'll freeze to death, won't you? — he added.       — The heavens, there are so many of them, it's difficult to endure. It's as if they're weighing me down, not allowing me to move. Their gloominess and mistiness are as strong as to not let me find my way, and all I can do is watch and marvel at such energy that subjugates me, — Jimin poured out his feelings. — But sometimes, I have to pray for these clouds to disperse because I see myself in them, and it troubles me.       Yoongi remained silent for a few minutes, then he squatted down and, taking Jimin's cold hand, began warming it with warm breath. Utilizing his approach, he responded in kind:       — The skies, so vast and overwhelming, can feel suffocating. It's as if we're being crushed by their weight, unable to escape our own thoughts and emotions. But remember, Jimin, even in the darkest clouds, there is always a glimmer of hope. We must keep moving forward, finding our own path, no matter how challenging it may seem.       Jimin looked at Yoongi, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and understanding. In that moment, they both knew they had each other to lean on, to support and guide each other through the storms of life. Together, they would face whatever trials lay ahead, finding solace in their shared journey.       — The melancholic heavens are like a layer of dust that can clog or cover your emotions and thoughts in those moments when you face difficulties. However, it doesn't mean that you are doomed to it. Just like the fog that lifts and the sun that appears after a storm, you too can find a clear path to your happiness, — even affectionately spoke Min, stroking his hand. Jimin smiled at that.       — What do I need happiness for if I drown in pleasures? It brings me great enjoyment, — argued Jimin, not fully believing his own words. At least, that's how it used to be, he added.       — But you still feel something, don't you? Without feelings, you wouldn't be able to describe your emotions.       — No, I only remember what I've experienced in my life. I speak through memories that tempt me, but I can't go back, unfortunately, — finally shifting his gaze to Yoongi. — Even now, I don't feel the cold well. Not because my skin is tough, quite the opposite. It's just that at certain times, my brain ignores these signals. I ignore them. If you look at the same object from different angles, perception and feelings change significantly.       — Are you trying to say that everything you're experiencing now, you're content with it? And you're leading yourself towards it?       — You could say that. Regardless of who blames whom, we are the leaders of our own lives, — he turned his head back to the sky. Yoongi now understood that trying to help Jimin in this web was truly futile.       — Sometimes I romanticize my life, - Jimin whispered.       — Why?       — Because I enjoy it, that's why.       — Earlier, you said you don't feel anything, — the dark-haired guy retorted.       — But I know that I would enjoy it. I'm sure of it.       The guy's hands were as cold as ice, and Yoongi watched as his eyes turned blue. He could see that the icy claws of the frost had already seized them in a tight grip.       — Still, let's go home. No matter what you say, you need to warm up now, — Min pulled the blond man's hand.       — It would be incredible if I were struck by lightning right now, - the blonde mused and reluctantly stood up.       — Is that your idea of a perfect ending to life? —!Yoongi asked wearily.       — Cancer is more remarkable to me, after all, — just as he was about to close the hatch behind him, a lightning bolt flashed right where he had been lying. Its brightness momentarily blinded him.       — Should have stayed a little longer, — he muttered, suppressing a laugh, and closed the hatch.       10:40 PM.       The snowstorm raged outside, howling ominously. Naked trees creaked desperately, their branches bending under the force of the wind. The blizzard roared, whistling wildly and igniting the storm in earnest. In such inclement weather, the cold seeped into every corner of the house, and heaters of every resident worked tirelessly to combat the chill, creating warmth. Yoongi was in the kitchen, preparing a meal from recently purchased groceries, while Jimin remained silent in his bedroom, gazing out the window at the endless snowstorm. Perhaps his thoughts were akin to the swirling tempest, turbulent and chaotic.       Suddenly, in an instant, the lights went out, plunging the house into darkness. Outside, the storm howled even more fiercely, and ominous shadows crept along. Yoongi startled in surprise as the stove on which he was cooking immediately shut off. The surroundings were enveloped in darkness, nothing could be seen. Relying on his memory, Min cautiously made his way to the bedroom.       — Darkness once again, — Jimin murmured.       — What should we do now? Everything's out.       — Oh, so you're afraid of the dark? — Park playfully asked.       — Not at all, — the brunette firmly stated.       — Come on, I can even see the fear in your eyes. Feeling intrigued? — he asked excitedly.       — Stop it, — Yoongi pleaded.       — Our brave hero has fallen, — the blonde laughed. — Where's your phone? Turn on the flashlight then.       — The battery died, — Yoongi replied with disappointment, sitting down on the soft mattress next to Jimin.       — I had one candle, — he leaned over to the nightstand, feeling inside for the candle on the shelf, and lit it with the lighter that was in his pants pocket. Though dim, the small flame illuminated the space, allowing Jimin to clearly see Yoongi's face and his emotions. — It's sad that we're not bestowed with the ability to see in the dark like animals, — Park remarked. — In many ways, animals surpass us. Humans.       — But humans possess a valuable ability as well — reason. Animals are deprived of the gift of contemplation, — Yoongi joined the conversation.       — Believe me, I would prefer not to have a mind at all. Most people are convinced that life is terrible without reason. But perhaps they know that being an irrational creature is much easier. The thought won't even occur to them that they are imperfect. Oh, how I long to be an animal.       — There is some truth to that, — Yoongi agreed.       — Undoubtedly. But let's not dwell on regrets and the impossibility of our actions. It will not bode well for some people.       Yoongi reached out his pale hand towards the candle, carefully picked it up, and brought the source of light closer to Jimin's face. Now he could discern every feature: the eyes, simultaneously so ambiguous and empty; the eyebrows slightly furrowed; and the corners of the lips curved with the gentle bend of unspoken words.       — Your flaws are not visible in such dim lighting. I must admit, you look incredibly stunning right now, reflecting that same spark that usually resides in your eyes. But it is unbelievably fake.       — Would I look equally magnificent in broad daylight? — Park asked, awaiting an answer.       — Yes, just like that spark of yours, it hides, like a trembling firefly. In dark eyes, shrouded in darkness, it's barely visible. If the color of your pupils were light, even an eagle, with its sharp vision, would not distinguish its tiny gleam from afar, — Yoongi honestly replied.       Jimin fell silent, trying to digest his words, and then burst into laughter, a tear rolling down his cheek. Yoongi was slightly surprised by such a reaction, as he did not expect this kind of "answer" at all.       Regaining composure, the blonde calmed down. He put on a sly smile, moved closer to Jimin, leaned towards his ear, and whispered softly, his hot breath scorching his neck:       — If that's the case, in my opinion, you would look much more sexually appealing without any clothes on, — he bit his lip, shifting his gaze to Yoongi's eyes, which displayed confusion and perplexity at Park’s words.       With his hand, the blonde took the candle from the boy's hands, placing it on the floor, and confidently traced his legs along his torso, pressing closer. Yoongi remained still, not responding or resisting, simply sitting in the same position, giving Jimin the freedom to act. For a few seconds, he stared into the brunette's eyes, which he found so captivating, like black fresh berries that reflected everything they saw, like a mirror.       He stretched out his cold palm to the pale skin of his face, starting to gently stroke and go through the black strands of hair back, removing the bangs. Slowly leading down from his forehead to his chin with his hand, he lifted it up and immediately lowered it directly to his face. Sharply grabbing the elder's pink lips with his teeth, he clinged to them at first gently, and gradually turning to rudeness, clenching them. The lips were tasteless, ordinary. But Park felt like a drug addict that after a long abstinence of drugs, he tasted the desired nicotine again, inhaling this dope deeper and more greedily, closing the soul with rings of shackles, which was more intoxicated and tied to himself, without the possibility of moving away or forever untie. After eating the forbidden-sweet fruit, it will be impossible to get rid of it, it will either choke or intoxicate you, but the result of all moves will be the same — painful. The pleasure rolled to the whole body, the knees shuddered at the new furiously forgotten sensations, and the head completely clouded, not mindful of the series of upcoming events.       Yoongi did not answer, only sat skillfully without movements, his thoughts flew away, as if a swarm of bees flew out of the hive, incomprehensibility shrouded. Jimin no longer just kissed, but devoured him, sucking blood like an insatiable vampire.       Finally, responding to the kiss, Yoongi began to be careful, but mutually kissing and caressing. They both enjoyed this moment: eating each other, plunging into this passionate and rare kiss of their lives.       Putting his hands on his shoulders, he slightly removed Park viscous saliva held the path between the two mouths. After taking a breath, Yoongi tried to say something, but he couldn't do it — his throat was tickling, and his tongue was numb, as if he had become dumb. He looked at Jimin in such a dim light: his disheveled hair, blurred gaze and reddened skin said about excitement, it even seemed nice to him. Getting up, he overturned the blonde with his back on the bed, went down to him and began to touch his lips again, now changing the initiative to himself, licking his soft and plump lips.       Jimin gave a quiet moan when he broke away from him, starting to cover his neck with kisses, the veins stood out on the skin and pulsated strongly, the body was very heated, which made both of them unbearably hot. Min with one grip completely took off the already unbuttoned shirt, stripping the upper part of Jimin. The vices on the body greatly sang the brunette's mind, he tried his best to ignore and ignore them. He was glad that there was no electricity, because everything was not so clearly visible and did not particularly catch the eye. Yoongi covered his eyelids, began to go down with his tongue, without touching the damage, so as not to cause even more pain. When he reached his chest, he bit his nipple with his teeth, which is why Jimin moaned louder, squeezing his toes and breathing heavily. Sucking the bump, he looked up at Park’s face, who also had his eyes covered, he quietly whispered something vaguely to himself.       After teasing, he decided to take off his younger’s pants as soon as possible, skipping his stomach, and with his long fingers untyed the lace on his hips, pulling the fabric down, completely removing them. Slender legs were less crippled, but some scars still flaunted on pale skin. Yoongi slowed down, surprised that he had no underwear at all, Park immediately understood and replied that he did not like to wear something under his pants.       Gently touching the inside of the thigh with his lips, he left red hickeys, bites and drool. Jimin squeezed his black hair with his hands, pulling a little towards him, and bent in his back, moaned loudly and long, spreading his legs even wider. In fact, he didn't feel much, just pretending to be the pleasure of his movements to believe it himself.       After long tongue walking, Yoongi sat on his knees and took off his jacket, unbuttoning the belt on his trousers. Jimin reached out to the bottom shelf and, having taken out a raspberry-flavored lubricant, gave it to Min. Pouring the contents on his fingers, he consciously inserts two fingers into the hole, feeling it stretched around him, almost like a tight-fitting glove. It's warm and humid inside, which makes the back trembling with delightful surprise. He pulsates gently on his invading fingers, teasing and inflaming him even more. He is focused on exploring every inch of this forbidden territory, like an archaeologist brushing mud in search of hidden treasures, moving like scissors to gently lay the paths deeper, which has so completely captured his attention.       Jimin himself slipped off his phalanx, and Min looked at him in bewilderment, he sat down and turned the brunette on his back, hung from above, kneeling on his sides, unbuttoned his fly, taking off his pants with the boxers. The already grown dignity caught the eye, and he gently ran his palm along the entire length, smearing the pre-ejaculate, and saddled with a sharp jerk. The mouth opened in a silent scream, a wave of pain walked through the body with sharp needles, making it crucous. But despite the strong feeling of pain, he begins to move without letting himself get used to the size. Putting his hands on the guy's chest, he waved quickly and ruthlessly, torn exhaled out through his clenched teeth. Yoongi squeezed his hands on Jimin’s hips, closed his eyes strongly. The base reached a sensitive point, which refuted the feeling of torment, which comes in waves, followed by short flashes of pleasure. It's like he's alternately drowning in a sea of suffering and has time to rush to the surface of pleasure. The heart seems to be rhythmically shrinking and expanding, responding in changes in sensations. Another way to be a person who experiences his impressions, because you do not have to be in a gaping emptiness, which burns and strangles a lot, bringing to the same silent scream, only such a state is even more fierce and painful. Jimin in search of pain, which pops into the mind, replacing another pain, stabbing penetrates the body, but distracts from the agony of another kind, which is much worse than this one.       Yoongi reaches the highest point of pleasure, the mind is covered with a veil, and all thoughts dissolve at once in the moment. The breath breaks to hell, the air seems to have become nitrogen, so heavy and tangible that it enters the lungs, burning to the ashes. Park’s ecstatic reaction follows only after help from the brunette. Short, but like a supernova flash — an instant explosion of emotions, carrying euphoria to the sobering top and back. The wet skin clung to the cool sheets, as if trying to pull a refreshing blessing out of them. The clids got heavier, and the body relaxed with full care — it's time for the next events.       After taking a short break, Jimin made his way to rinse off. His body longed for cleansing and release after everything that had transpired. Yoongi, on the other hand, slowly immersed himself in contemplation, gradually drifting off to sleep.       The cold stream of water seemed to scorch his heated skin, yet it brought incredible relief. Jimin closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the flow of thoughts. The water dissolved the remnants of sweat and semen, cascading down his body like tiny streams, carrying away the fatigue. He felt as if, under its touch, not only exhaustion but also the boundaries of his body and soul were being erased. It was as if he could observe himself from a distance, as the water element judged him so wisely and objectively. The young man pondered: how much does he truly know about himself? Only superficial facts flashed before his eyes, like fleeting reflections on a smooth surface. But deep inside, were there hidden sources, secret desires of the soul? It seemed as though a person knows everything about themselves, but no, one cannot fully agree with such a thought. In reality, every individual is just beginning their journey of self-exploration. Of course, we are familiar with our habits, preferences, and character since childhood. But how deeply have we delved into the hidden corners of our own consciousness? Have we understood the roots of our actions and motivations? Jimin himself did not know the answer to what caused this. Perhaps the external reason is known, but what led to the very core of it? The questions turned out to be more complex than initially imagined. Thoughts arise from them, giving birth to ideas and subsequent streams, until you yourself become entangled in them. Often, one has to return to the same thoughts in order to discern their facets and nuances. There is so much more for each of us to discover and comprehend. After all, at every stage of life, a person undergoes changes, acquiring new facets of their individuality. And no matter how it may have seemed before, our knowledge is just the tip of the iceberg. The exploration of our own essence knows no limits; it lasts a lifetime. We must simply have patience and strive, just as we would for any goal.       Having finished washing up, Park stepped out of the shower cabin. Water droplets trickled down his hair onto his shoulders, and the plush towel was wrapped around his waist. Returning to the room, the blonde's gaze fell upon Min, who was sound asleep on the bed, cocooned in a warm blanket. His slumber appeared so peaceful and serene, inducing a sense of tranquility in his thoughts as he admired the white skin that perfectly complemented his black hair.       Suddenly, an unexpected thought arose — despite the idyllic scene, there was a strong desire to place his hands on another's neck, to wrap them around lightly and delicately at first, even tickling. But then, to apply pressure forcefully, firmly, blocking the path to air, a gesture that could lead to death. Jimin was surprised by these unfamiliar intentions, despite his thinking always being unconventional.       Park walked to the window and opened the doors. A strong wind burst into the bedroom, dispersing the heat in the room. Light strands trembled strongly under his gusts, as if trying to take the guy's thoughts out the window, to the vast expanses. The harsh wind seemed to whisper in an unfamiliar language, calling to do what was planned and forget. Looking at the white snow in the depths of the night, it came to strange sensations.       Finally, Park broke away from the view outside the window and headed to the bed again. He glanced at Min and sat down on top, slowly stroking his body through the blanket. And when he reached his neck, he left a light kiss, then circled his fingers around his neck, lingered for a moment, tracking the curves, and then immediately starting to choke.

The thought arises by chance, and the soul catches it in mid-air, guided not by reasoning, but by an inner impulse.

      Due to lack of air, Yoongi instantly woke up, seeing the face of the blonde in front of him, looking confused and not understanding what was happening. He tried to resist, grabbing the other's wrists to free himself, but Jimin began to apply even more pressure. Yoongi looked around, trying to brush off this moment. He felt his heart beating faster, as if it were a nightmare.       The oxygen in his body was diminishing, causing his body to become numb, tightening severely. He felt his lungs as if they were on fire, and his body was on the verge.       After a minute and a half, the irreversible climax arrived. Inside Jimin, his heart tightened slightly as he looked at the lifeless body in front of him. It was hard to believe that there was now icy emptiness where there had recently been a spark of life. Jimin forced a smile, and a salty tear rolled down his cheek, falling right onto Yoongi's nose.       He gently laid his head on Yoongi's chest and closed his eyes, embracing him.       — We are all destined to die, sooner or later. What difference does it make, — he whispered softly.

Do not evade the consequences of your actions — it will only prolong your inner conflict.

      January 16th. 7:20 PM.       A loud knock on the door nearly broke the wooden frame, but no one answered, nor did they open it. So the man had to break it down. He leaned his heavy weight against it, and the door couldn't withstand his force, giving way and splintering. A sharp smell of blood hit the man's nose as he cautiously stepped inside, examining the corridor.       — Park, are you home? — he cautiously asked, but there was no response. Dead silence filled the space. — Don't scold me later for entering without permission, I had no choice, — he added, trying to avoid a grim fate. Proceeding first to the kitchen, he found no one. Moving on to the living room, still no one.       He knocked softly on the bedroom door, pressing his ear against it.       — Jimin, are you asleep? — he whispered, and gripping the handle, he cracked the door open.       A cry of horror escaped his lips involuntarily as his gaze fell upon the ominous darkness in the dimly lit room. On the bed lay a boy, and on top of him was Jimin, his eyes closed, his palms clenched, and blood gushing from his mouth, forming a pool of crimson around him.       The man felt as though his heart was about to stop from the shock he had just experienced. He stood frozen, his gaze fixated on the details of the nightmare, piecing together the full picture of what had happened.       Gradually, the numbness began to fade, giving way to more rational thoughts. He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed the emergency number, first calling for an ambulance and then the police.       10:46 PM.       The girl in the white coat and gloves gently opens Jimin's motionless jaw. Her gaze, hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses, is filled with an extraordinary level of concentration.       — It seems... he bit his tongue and died from bleeding, — the doctor pronounced her verdict. — Judging by the blood flow, death occurred after prolonged suffering, within a timeframe of two to six hours, — she summarized with a sad detachment.       The man was horrified, his thoughts writhing in agony, feeling the urge to crawl up the walls. Suddenly, a police officer approached him, holding a notepad and pen, making observations.       — Tell me about this person, what you know about him. Perhaps there are some details, specifics that could help us determine the cause and aid in the investigation, — the police officer asked in a soft voice, trying not to further complicate the situation.       — Well, his name is Park Jimin, we are neighbors and also friends. We often talked and went out together, — the man spoke with visible difficulty. — And then, I came to him. I knocked, but no one opened or responded. Today is a day off, he's always at home during this time, so I thought something might have happened, and I started banging on the door, — his voice trembled, his fingers fidgeted with his sweater, and his eyes looked around in confusion. — So, I went inside, still no one. I searched the whole house first, and only at the end did I enter the bedroom, and that's when..., — he choked on his own saliva.       — I see. Do you have any idea about the reason for his murder or suicide? Who is the other guy? — the officer continued questioning.       — As for the other guy, I don't know him, honestly. And I don't know the reason either, but Park always had suicidal tendencies. He would often dwell on dark thoughts with crazy ideas. He even inflicted pain on himself... Why he was like that, I don't really know. He didn't open up to me much, and I didn't really inquire, — the man revealed everything.       — Thank you for your honesty. Any details can be helpful, — the officer nodded thoughtfully. — Let me know if you remember anything else, — he was about to add, when the doctor approached.       — Sir, indirect signs suggest drug overdose. We need toxicological analysis for a precise conclusion. But in any case, it seems that it was done under the influence or in a state of severe psychological distress. — she said.       — Keep that in mind during the investigation, — he nodded.       — Ah, — the girl remembered, — we also found, it seems, a suicide note in his hands, — she hesitated for a moment but handed over the piece of paper.       The man carefully took it by the corners and unfolded it. The uneven lines, written in barely legible handwriting, slowly absorbed his gaze.       «I didn't die from cancer, as I had assumed. But this kind of death satisfies me completely. Yoongi, let's meet in the afterlife, I will devour your lungs. I think they will be sweet».