#regularly scheduled programming soon i prom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gossamie · 6 years ago

Text

we have one hour left to live.

— summary: The world is ending soon. How will you and Jimin spend your last hour on this earth?

— pairing: park jimin x reader

— genre: angst w/ fluff if you squint hard enough

— word count: 2,839

— warnings: major character deaths, implied + non-explicit smut

— notes: wow this might be the saddest fic i’ve ever written. i love writing angst, but sometimes i cry over my own works and i wonder why i do this to myself. i promise i’ll be writing something more lighthearted soon, but until then, i hope you enjoy!

huge thanks to @fentasies for helping me with this story!

p.s. the research used for the introduction can be found in this article (so, yes, this could actually happen!).

p.p.s. i highly suggest listening to this as you read if you want to get in your feels, especially as you continue further on into the story.

“How strange this fear of death is! We are never frightened at a sunset.” - George MacDonald

We interrupt this broadcast to deliver you breaking news.

Scientists believe that the end of the world is imminent.

Throughout the century, the Earth has been experiencing climate change at an increasing pace, but there has been a sudden and rapid increase in the atmosphere’s temperature. Recent data from the Pohang University of Science and Technology shows that global temperatures are now 10℃ warmer than pre-industrial levels, rivalling that of the Palaeocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum, when, fifty-five billion years ago, Earth experienced one of the fastest temperature rises in history.

As we speak, the Earth is overheating in what has been theoretically known as the “runaway greenhouse effect”. Greenhouse gases are being emitted by the planet at an alarming rate and this self-providing mechanism has now become unstoppable. It is expected that the Earth will soon warm by hundreds of degrees, effectively terminating all life as we know it.

Mathematicians have calculated that this devastating process will take place exactly one hour from now.

We understand that this is very distressing information, but we urge you to enjoy this hour to the fullest. Spend time with your loved ones, speak to those that you haven’t, do something you’ve never done before— do whatever you think is necessary to enjoy these last few minutes we have on Earth.

We will now return to your regularly scheduled program. The government will issue a statement on this situation in the following moments.

From all of us here at Channel 17, we thank you for joining us.

[1:00:00] UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD

Today, you and Park Jimin are going to die.

You thought you would be more upset when you heard the broadcast. There are no tears in your eyes nor are your hands starting to shake uncontrollably from the thought of your inevitable demise. Rather, you feel—

Nothing.

There is a strange emptiness in the pit of your stomach and a hollow in your chest where your heart should be. It’s almost as if you had known that today would mark the date of your death but you had only chosen to act upon that information now.

If Jimin is at all scared, he doesn’t show it. You realize that both of you feel this unusual calamity lingering in the air, and when you look at each other after watching the broadcast, you do not think about how you will lose him in the next hour, but instead, you think about how you can spend your last hour with him.

This is the only thing that saddens you about your last hour living on Earth. There are so many things you want to do, so many words you want to say, but so little time. You want to destroy every clock in the world in an attempt to enact revenge on the cruelty that is time.

But you can’t because you’ve already wasted five minutes thinking about what you and Jimin will do first. Jimin suggests visiting the nearby arboretum, to which you quickly agree.

It is unusually hot outside when you arrive, the air much warmer than it had been in the past few years, but you and Jimin had expected this— the planet is, after all, being cooked into oblivion. There are no tourists strolling through the park, nor are there any employees stationed at the ticket booths; everything is extremely quiet— too quiet— as if the world, too, had already accepted that its end was near.

As you and Jimin walk through the conservatory with intertwined hands, you noticed just how bare the gardens are. Most of the vegetation had succumbed to the extreme heat, leaving the trees to shrivel into thin branches and the flowers to droop in defeat. Your eyes are met with patches of beige and umber wherever they look, and you sigh when you remember that your eyes should have met endless fields of emerald and bronze.

You sigh, for what had once been a shrine of cultivating life is now a grave of relentless death.

Jimin suddenly stops. “Look,” he whispers, and you turn towards him in curiosity as he gently pulls you to the side of the path.

From your viewpoint, all you can see is tawny grass and crumbling foliage. “Jimin, what’s so interesting about a pile of dead le—”

You saw the pink carnations.

There were three carnations, the few flowers that had grown amidst the dense, dehydrated bush. The rich, vivid tones of the carnations’ petals captivated you; you could not tear your eyes away from the hues of ruby and amethyst and opal that caught the sunlight like shards of jewels. The blooms were miniscule fireworks, blooming brilliantly, magically against the sepia sky.

What fascinated you the most, though, was how naïve the carnations were. They continued to flourish despite the unforgiving sun, as if they were completely and utterly aware of the fact that their beauty would become nonexistent in a matter of minutes. A small part of you wished that you could take part in the blossoms’ naïvety, wished that they could whisper the secrets of their blissful ignorance.

An iron plaque with engraved letters was positioned next to the pink carnations, and you assumed that it had once detailed the origins and the meaning of the flowers. However, rust had eaten away at the metal, making the writing barely legible. A mysterious aura now surrounded the carnations and it was begging you to solve it, only piquing your curiosity.

But time is precious and you couldn’t afford to throw these sacred seconds away. You raced to Jimin, who had already moved on down the trail, and held his hand once more. It was difficult to ignore the death that surrounded you.

[00:41:23] UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD

Jimin was hungry and he was craving fast food.

By some odd chance, you and Jimin had stumbled upon a small, dated diner. The only occupant in the restaurant was a middle-aged man wearing a checkered uniform. As Jimin ordered, you were tempted to ask the employee why he seemed oblivious of the eerie, unnerving silence, why he was here and not anywhere else.

When you noticed the pained yet empty stare in his eyes, however, all of the questions whirling in your brain died down because you realized he had no one to turn to and nowhere to go.

You tried to enjoy the burger and the fries Jimin had ordered for you, but you were a machine and eating felt mechanical, as if every fry you ate and every sip you drank was merely an action you were programmed to perform. It was so hard to enjoy because it was hard to enjoy anything.

How could you possibly enjoy living if life was ending?

Jimin, on the other hand, was eating his meal heartily, his cheeks growing more plump with each sip of his chocolate milkshake and his smile growing wider with each bite of his burger. You noticed how his happiness seemed to illuminate the dimly-lit building, how his body seemed to fill with a childlike innocence that you haven’t seen in an eternity.

In an instant, you were no longer watching your lover; rather, you were watching the cheerful and bubbly teenager you met in high school all those years ago. You were watching the boy who bought you roses every time he thought about you, who listened to all of your secrets and kept them locked away in his heart, who became your first kiss as you danced on the gymnasium floor during your senior year prom.

It was as if you were watching the boy you fell in love with.

“Earth to Y/N? Are you okay?” Jimin asked, his voice snapping you out of your reverie.

You blinked. “I’m fine, why do you ask?”

“You looked like you were falling in love.”

“Would it be a bad thing if I was?”

“No,” he replied. “You should do it more often.”

“I will.” Because I’ll never get a chance to do it again.

Even though the luminance of Jimin’s smile rivalled that of the sun, there was something wistful behind that beautiful iridescence, as if he heard those thoughts and made them his own. That unspoken truth lingered in the air like a sword hanging from a thread, threatening to sever the red string connecting the two of you.

Rather than confronting the truth, however, you and Jimin decided to spend the next twenty minutes floating in a comfortable silence, enjoying your last meal together.

[00:20:58] UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD

Somewhere in the neighborhood, there was music breaking through the silence.

Intrigued and captivated, you and Jimin followed the haunting melody, the streets leading you to a guitarist idly leaning against a barren tree. She sang with fluttering eyelids and drifting fingers; she, too, was enchanted by her own music.

“Before we say goodbye, let go / But I’m lost in the maze of my heart / From stereo to mono / That’s how the path splits…”

Her words seemed to flow and ebb, intertwining with the breeze that swept through what was left of the flowers at her feet. But, like Jimin’s smile, an otherworldly sorrow stained her voice, a melancholy that no human could ever feel. This sadness suffocated you, crippled you, with such force that breathing became difficult, as if you were trying to hold your head above water.

“If my fate is to disappear like this, then this is my last letter / Penned words, written then erased / Feelings for you, so many to let go / So be it, don’t cry / I’mma let you go and fly…”

You felt wrong; you should be panicking or hyperventilating or crying or something instead of standing here, especially when everything was crumbling to pieces with every passing second. But a larger, irrational part of you wanted you to stay, wanted to savor the world and what little there was left of it, and you listened to it. You felt as if you were a passenger on the Titanic, focusing on the band’s hymn instead of the ship sinking beneath you.

“In order to release your hand right now / I gotta let you know that I need to let you go / Hard to say goodbye / But I can’t run / I’m ready to let go…”

Somewhere, something within you was telling you that you had no other choice but to let go of Jimin’s hand; however, you ignored it, burying those thoughts into the rifts of your mind where you could no longer hear nor think of them. As if in defiance, your grip on Jimin’s hand tightened, a silent reminder to both you and him that you would never truly be ready to let your lover go.

“Life without you is really unbelievable / But even so I still gotta go / To the person I loved so much / To the red thread that got too entangled in itself / I couldn’t reach you, so I’ll walk a separate path / For that reason I’ll say goodbye…”

In response to your tense grasp, Jimin began to softly tap to the beat of the guitar on the back of your hand as if to tell you that, don’t worry, I’m still here. Your eyes trailed up to Jimin, focusing on his porcelain skin and the way the sun seemed to make his ash blonde hair glow like gold. His eyes were closed and his body gently swayed back and forth. He, too, was becoming more enraptured by the guitarist with every note that he sang. He looked beautiful; he looked at peace.

He looked like he forgot that he was dying.

“The color of the sky we saw together / The scent of the path we walked down together / Don’t forget them…”

You struggled to understand how Jimin could be so calm, so undisturbed by the presence of his impending death. When you looked at him, you saw pink carnations blooming underneath his skin and you desperately wanted to know how he could be so innocent, how ignorance could be so euphoric. Patience is no longer a virtue when the world is ending in twenty minutes; you wanted to know, and you wanted to know now.

But, like time or fate, this was something that could not and could never be understood so all you did was rest your head on Jimin’s shoulder and felt the life that emanated from his being.

[00:15:13] UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD

When you asked Jimin if he wanted to watch the sunset during his last moments on Earth, he said no.

When you asked Jimin why, he said, “I’ve seen enough sunsets in my lifetime. Let’s go watch the fireflies,” and you agreed.

The sun set for the last time when the guitarist finished singing, the clouds fading to hues of violet and lapis as you and Jimin arrived at the park. Although dusk had fallen, the heat was becoming unbearable, but you paid no attention to it. There was no need to pay attention to something that would no longer exist.

Amongst the jungle of barren trees, you and Jimin found a secluded, grassy clearing, the moonlight breaking through the clouds as an everlasting lantern. You winced as you laid down on the parched sod; the heat emanating from the earth threatened to burn the skin on your back.

You became numb to the pain when you saw the fireflies.

The fireflies endlessly surrounded you and Jimin, those flecks of gold stretching into infinity. The sight before you was otherworldly, as if you and Jimin and these fireflies were suspended amidst a more beautiful version of reality. You felt almost ashamed to be watching these fireflies; you felt like an intruder, recklessly disturbing the delicacy of their world.

It’s like the stars visited us, you and Jimin thought, and for an eternity, this was how you remained, with the silence and the heat and the raining stars.

Jimin’s hushed whisper cracked the glass of tranquility. “I never told you about the carnations.”

You turned your head towards your lover, your cheek pressed against the scalding soil. “What about them?” you asked.

“The meaning,” he replied. “I never told you about the meaning of the pink carnations.”

“Well, what do they mean?”

“They’re a symbol of gratitude. It’s a silent way of saying, ‘I’ll never forget you.’”

Jimin then pivoted his head towards you, his fingers reaching out and holding yours. “Y/N, I know we don’t have much time left, but if there’s one thing that I have to say to you before we go, it’s that I’m so thankful to you. Thank you for saying ‘yes’ when I got down on one knee. Thank you for making me a better man. Thank you for giving me the honor of loving you for these past seven years. Thank you for giving me a life full of love even when I didn’t deserve it.”

You look at Jimin and, for the first time, you are scared.

It’s not enough. There are still so many mornings left to start with laughter, so many nights left to fill with lust, so many kisses left to give, so many ‘I love you’s’ left to say, so many days left in your future, so many things that you will never get back because you only have fifteen minutes left before you lose Jimin forever.

You look at Jimin, and for the first time, you are truly and terribly scared because these fifteen minutes are all that is left; this is all that will ever be.

You start to cry and Jimin tries to wipe away your tears but it’s useless because crying is the only thing that your body can do. Somehow, you manage to find your voice within your despair and you whisper, “Aren’t you scared? Aren’t you afraid of dying?”

“No,” Jimin replies simply.

“Why?”

“Being with you has shown me how beautiful life is. You gave my life meaning just by being in it. I’m not dying with any regrets. There is nothing more that I want from this world. I’m dying with a smile on my face and you by my side and I can’t be afraid if we’re together.”

His words resonated in your mind, marked its permanence in your heart.

I can’t be afraid if we’re together.

You believed him.

He holds you as your tears start to dry, his arms wrapped around you tightly as if to prove to the universe that no force in the world could ever tear you apart.

You feel at peace in Jimin’s embrace. You, too, are not leaving without any regrets because Jimin has given you a life filled with love; for you, too, there is nothing more that you want from this world.

Jimin kisses your forehead in what will be your final kiss. He whispers, “I love y—”

[00:00:00] UNTIL THE WORLD ENDS

#i'm crying now what about you #kpopwritingnet #bts #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts au #bts angst #bts fluff #jimin fanfic #jimin fic #jimin au #jimin angst #jimin fluff

77 notes · View notes

seijohsfairy · 4 years ago

Text

even as a raging disaster, your love for iwaizumi hajime knows no bounds

.word count. 1k+ .note. i was feeling soft for one (1) man so uhm no warnings today

You pour two solo cups, one for you, one for the tall figure awkwardly dancing with a girl that seems so drunk she might topple over any second. He looks, even more than other days, breathtaking. Dark hair like an inverted halo splayed around his sharp features. Sleeves of his shirt rolled up around his forearms, muscular thighs packed tight into the ripped jeans. A necklace, one you gifted him for his birthday, falling in the groove of his chest. You smile as you catch his eyes, the pleading look he gives you growing with the second, so you draw away from the sticky bar long enough to stroll to his side.

“If you take anyone home, she better not be even a 10th as drunk as Mrs. Floppy Noodle over here,” you grin. When he lets out a clear sigh of relief, you take his hand to pull him out of the mess of people. The girl doesn’t notice, though she almost snaps a heel stumbling back into someone else. One of her friends sends you a little look, mouthing an apology you wave off. You don’t think Hajime is one to just take a random girl home anyway, though he definitely has the looks to do so.

At your words, his eyes widen about twice the size, and he gives you a shove. “I’m not taking someone home,” he chews the words for a moment and looks at the red solo cup you push into his hands, before continuing, “except you.”

He is, strictly speaking, not wrong as your ride from and to, but that sounded like he’d take you to his home. You, to his apartment, his bed. Much different from the sleepovers you had in high school. You know that that’s not what he means though, and smile it off. “You better get me home safe, big guy.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, before holding up his drink to you and lifting a brow. “Cheers, Iwa.” You two tap cups, and throw back whatever you just poured into the cups without hesitation.

It’s a mixture of vodka and some red drink you don’t know what it is, but tastes like something peach, and it burns in the back of your throat. You cough after downing the whole thing. “Ew, I think that wasn’t a good idea.”

Hajime still has a sour face too. “What is that?”

A grin slips on your face despite the sting. “I have no clue. It’s horrible,” you agree, quick to put the cups away. Your chest warming at his expression, you turn. “We’re dancing, come on. I don’t care if you want to or not.” The brunet sputters behind when you drag him away from the kitchen and through the mess of people, holding onto your hand tightly. Long fingers wrapped around your hand like two magnets. You get to a spot where people are sitting in the couches a bit away, a few feet with barely enough space to move around, before turning to him.

When you just start moving, his look lingers. Long enough for it to make any platonic explanation seem offset, but you will yourself to ignore it. You don’t— can’t let it get to you, you’ve been friends too long for that. Instead your eyes flutter closed, feeling the rush of alcohol spread slowly through your skin. You feel warm, a little hazy. And right now you really don’t care if you look stupid or not, because you feel nice. You feel confident, if that’s a word you’ve ever used to describe yourself.

When you turn back, ignoring the changing light to see the chocolate haired man raking his eyes over you. Top to bottom, as if he’s breathing out his hesitation. It’s weird, this is weird and foreign but everything about it feels right, anyway. You tilt your head, emboldened by either the alcohol or his darkening gaze. “Hajime,” your voice is playful, catching at the end of his name, “you do have to move, you know.” He swallows, wordless, and starts swaying to the music. With a subdued giggle, you remember your prom.

He’d been bright pink when putting his hands on his date’s hips, glaring at you from across the room where you’d made obnoxious kissy faces. Until Makki had kissed you later that evening, and it’d been Hajime’s turn to tease. An appropriate explanation of your relationship with the boy that had lived two houses over for the majority of your childhood. You, the catalyst; him, the solution. Always. The space is more littered than your prom was, sticky and sweaty, so you can’t blame him for looking uncomfortable. That, and you’re kind of standing two feet apart, which doesn’t give him much space to dance. Instead of watching as he bounces on his feet, you reach for him and turn around, gently guiding him to hold onto your waist.

You look back to smile. His lips open to allow for air to pass, and you briefly wish you could intertwine with him entirely, to taste the things he tastes, breathe the air he breathes. His hands glide higher, but he doesn’t look away. You take that as a go ahead and start dancing again. It’s not even been five minutes but whatever you tossed back is already tingling in your system and making you light, glowing, bright. You enjoy the way his heated palms caress your sides, even if you know that he means absolutely nothing with that. When you close your eyes again and lean into him a little more, everything seems to blur and slow.

Hajime’s fingers that press little ovals into the soft skin that just peeks from under your crop top. The vibrating of the loud music that bounces off the walls. The swaying of your hips, and in turn, his along with you. You don’t know how long you are like that, but when you open your eyes you see neon blue lights that jump the walls. His hands move more down, to hold onto your upper thigh, chest pressing against your back. You reach up your hand and tangle it in the base of his hair, pulling gently. A soft hum is pressed into your hair when he brushes his lips along your head, pulling back quickly but long enough to make you flutter.

Like a hot fever that rushes over you all of a sudden, you feel this incredible weight on your chest. Gratefulness and love for your best friend, the only person who has ever taken you in fully, accepted and cherished all of your messy angles, even the ones you know are not worth to be seen in broad daylight. You stop moving, suddenly too aware of what you’re doing. This is the one person who you’ve trusted for longer than you can even remember, it’s like you can see the taint your hands leave behind on him. You wonder if he can feel it, if it hurts. If he hates you for it. Your heart beats loudly in your chest when you turn in his hold.

Iwaizumi’s eyes stay closed for a second longer, long lashes spread out beautifully and perfectly. His hands hover in mid-air when you pull away, as if holding onto your ghost, before he opens his lids slowly. His colorful eyes don’t move from yours for a breath or two. You have to look away again, but feel his gaze on your face. You swallow, scan the room once. You force a smile on your lips as you take one of his hands, and look over at his expression. There’s a light that lives under his lashes, twisting and turning, but you’ve never seen it fade yet. You hope it never does. “Do you want another drink?” you ask, and he nods.

When returning you take a moment to look at him where he’s resting against the wall.

He hasn’t noticed you yet, looking around with a look blank enough to rival a brick wall. It makes you giggle, his quiet strength. A warm feeling settles between your ribs, stomach clenching a tad. You breathe deeply, then pinch yourself. It’s hard to know how you’re feeling, and what that means, when you’re in this state. Dreadful, like a foreboding rumble of thunder, it sets your hairs on end. The line between friendship and true romantic love has always been blurred because you’re so close. Or maybe you are standing on the line separating the two, you really aren’t sure anymore. You can’t tell when it comes to him.

You hope it’s not that. Not love. Like a dense layer of fog at the break of dawn. It’s thick, there for a little while, shrouding everything, and then as soon as it came, it burns away with the harshness of reality. You don’t want to experience that with him. You want it to feel like this forever. You take another deep breath, and walk back over to him, smiling softly. Hajime looks up a little surprised when you suddenly come to stand in front of him. He doesn’t say anything, but opens his arms, to allow you to walk into his embrace.

///

thank you for reading, i’ll get back on your regularly scheduled horny [hawr-nee] program in a few minutes ( ｰ̀εｰ́ )

1 note · View note