La Vie en Rouge (Jimin, Angst)
Heavily inspired by the song La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf. I barely speak French, besides basic shit I learned in elementary and middle school so I listened to the absolutely beautiful cover in English by Daniela Andrade. La Vie en Rose translates to Life In Pink, and I decided for this fic it would be Life in Red. It is a love song, the polar opposite to this story. And, yes, for those of you who do not know, rouge means red l m a o ok bye!!
Sunset hair, cat like eyes and lips plumper than the sun on the brightest day. School does not teach you what to do when love clouds your whole world. Especially when that love ruins your whole world.
The words had once rolled off your tongue as a sweet melody. His smile blew what breath you had left away. The feel of his warmth on your skin sent sparks shooting across your vision. Park Jimin. Once the center of your life.
You gave him your heart quicker than anyone, you’d thought. The promises Jimin whispered day and night as he traced designs along your body were heartfelt, and you believed every word. It was not so easy at first, no. Jimin didn’t even look your way, let alone speak to you.
He looked at your best friend.
For a short amount of time, that is.
They had broken up quickly when Jimin announced your love to the world. He stood upon a grand stone gray staircase, looking down at the campus to your school as he let everyone know you were the one he had heart eyes for. At the same time, you lost your best friend.
That didn’t matter, though.
You had willingly taken Jimin’s hand in your own, face alight from heat and heart pounding in your throat. His breath came out in short bursts, left cheek bruising from the slap he had acquired just moments before. That didn’t matter, not in the least.
You had Jimin all to yourself.
Your love as like no other. A sweet love, full of phone calls deep into the night if you couldn’t be together physically. Your conversations filled with bubbling laughter, something that made your ears ring in pure delight as he replied to you. For days at a time you could not shake the sounds of his whispering voice from your mind, and every time you thought of it a grin would perk your lips, and a blush would spring forth. Any passer by’s would’ve probably been giving you a strange look, but you didn’t notice them at all.
You only noticed Park Jimin.
The first kiss was a memorable one. One you’d sworn to tell your children, your grandchildren, and if you had any before succumbing to a hole in the ground, your great grandchildren. It was vague, and most people listening would probably not share the same chest tightening as you, but you couldn’t think about that.
Jimin had stolen you in the darkness of the night, from your home, all the way to a tall building known as his home. It was your first time being in any of the opposite sex’s home, and with a racing heart and sweaty palm, you followed Jimin up the creaking mahogany. To his bedroom.
“I have a balcony, I thought you might appreciate.” He spoke quietly, a finger over his rose tinted lips as he attempted to conceal your excitement. You watched him, at the age of 18, pull you to the window pane double doors and back into the frigid darkness. Using his phone to illuminate the outside for the both of you, Jimin wrapped his arms around the front of your body, engulfing you almost fully with just the heavy scent of cinnamon. It clung to the air, you remembered fondly, and you’d tipped your head back against his shoulder in content.
“Will you stay with me?” His voice was as if angels sung to you only. You couldn’t help but nod your head immediately after the words tumbled from his lips even before his sentence was finished. “Stay with me until the sun rises.”
So you did. You stayed with Jimin the whole night, warm in his arms and so in love to your very core. As you watched the sun rise above the horizon, Jimin slid his phone back into his pocket, tipping back your chin to look at him.
And he kissed you. He kissed you for so long, you had missed the entire sunrise save for the beginning. You didn’t need to see the sunrise, though. For it was right in front of you, with the name Park Jimin.
You had dedicated yourself to his whole existence. Everything about Jimin was utter perfection, from the arch of his nose to the toes on his feet. He never failed to put you in a state of utter awe as he approached. The magic he held over you was completely encompassing to everything you had to give. Of course, you were willing to give him everything you had from the clothes on your back.
The first time he had spoken the worst ‘I love you’ was also a night filled with tears. A year together, a year and 3 days. Just 3 days before, you had said the words first.
Your heart had been pounding, your fists clenched in utter fear, and Jimin’s face fell as you choked on the words that strangled you. He had backed up, unable to meet your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he had murmured with a quiet, shaking voice. “I have to leave tonight.”
You stood on your front porch, the automatic light flickering off as Jimin ran down the street. He didn’t look back.
You had been so horrified. Cursing yourself to a life in Hell was too light of a punishment for you. Were you truly that foolish to believe Jimin loved you as much as you loved him? You locked yourself in your room for 3 days, refusing anyone who attempted to enter against your will. Jimin did not call you within those days, and you did not answer the phone to anyone who was not Jimin.
You remembered the first day, you cried into your pale blue throw pillow, wishing to have never opened your mouth. The second day you stared uselessly at your ceiling until unconsciousness stowed you away from the numbness for 16 long hours.
The third day, you awoke to a soft tapping. Sweetheart, the word stirred you. Your mother catching your attention. Jimin’s at the door, crying. What happened between you two?
You shot up, dizziness from blood rushing to your brain had you bracing yourself. You remembered patting down your bed hair from the previous night. For a moment you had stared uselessly at your mother, as if she spoke a different language to you. The words did not piece together properly for 3 minutes. 3 minutes and 24 seconds. You hopped from your bed, your mothers unanswered question hanging thickly as you avoided it.
You met Jimin’s back on your front porch. The place you had seen him last that muggy spring evening of your first anniversary. He was walking away, but his name rolling of your tongue halted his movements. The way he turned reminded you of a fairy tale. His eyes filled with tears, tumbling down his reddened cheeks. A shallow sigh had escaped between your lips, and the last thing you remember was rushing into his arms.
“I love you too.” He sobbed into the crook of your neck, moistening the over worn crew neck sweat shirt that clung to your body.
Every time you saw him, it was as if you were some type of goddess. From the shy smiles you gave him at first, to the way he brushed hair away to see them. You couldn’t understand how someone such as Jimin was alive, and much less yours.
An utter gentlemen, chivalrous to no end, always stealing kisses in the hum of the night, when you weren’t even supposed to be together. You were surprised as to how you had not yet been in cardiac arrest from how many times he caught you off guard and had your adrenaline pumping faster than if you had ran a marathon. Jimin never neglected to mention just how lucky he was to have you fall for his quirk and mischievous ways. Always extending a hand to you, Park Jimin appeared to be your light in a world that was once darker than a moonless sky.
The first time you had fought was the same year you both spoke the rare 3 words, that held the meaning of the world.
It had been an unproductive school year. The both of you graduated with anything but exemplary grades, not that it mattered. He had been occupied with a job upstate all summer, only to had just returned with a farmers tan beyond belief. His Ray Ban sunglasses masked his unhooded eyes, and your stomach felt nonexistent as he approached your front door.
You could not help but stare at him, the grin perking his lips a punch in the face as he stopped. You had been caught peaking from your curtained windows in the living room.
He had not returned your calls all summer.
Park Jimin had gone 2 months without calling you, or returning your calls and texts, for that matter. To busy yourself away from your working boyfriend, you’d forced yourself to get a job at a food court in the nearby shopping mall.
You were surprised to see him at all.
Just hours before Jimin had appeared, on that blazing summer afternoon, it had rained enough to call it a monsoon. The pavement steamed, and a rainbow hung over the blue skies.
You sprung from the leather sofa, trying your hardest not to run to the door, but it still happened in that exact manner. Before Jimin could even rap his knuckles against the wood, you opened the door in a rush. His mouth fell open slightly, sunglasses falling down the bridge of his nose that he wasted no time in pulling off.
“You never called me.” Was the first words that forced their way from your mouth. Jimin had regained himself from the momentary shock, leaning against the door frame with a cocked head and crossed arms.
“I missed you, too.” He had seethed with sarcasm, only fueling the pent up irritation you held.
“Why?” You didn’t mean to snap, but you still had.
“I told you,” he stood tall, causing you to crane your neck back to spot his face. “I would be busy all summer.”
“Without any time to talk to me? Your girlfriend?”
“Let’s not fight.” He’d grinned, attempting to wrap his arms around your shoulders. Wriggling free almost weightlessly, you had pushed Jimin back so he stumbled.
“That doesn’t explain why you were ignoring me.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you, I couldn’t be on my phone. I worked 10 hours a day and passed out right when I got home.”
“I don’t believe you.” You had mumbled, hugging yourself as a sudden chill ran down your spine in mid July. Jimin gave an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes.
“I just got home from a 3 hour flight, and you’re the first place I stopped. Do you really think I would intentionally ignore you?”
You were silent, acknowledging that he had in fact not dropped off his single suitcase, that stood on the stairs of your porch. Despite that, you still felt anger boiling over no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. Jimin had still gone every day for 2 months not talking to you. Not without a single text of, I miss you, or I love you. It would’ve sufficed. You would’ve gone about your day feeling content with those single messages.
“I’m tired, go home.” You rushed the words from your mouth, slamming the door right on Jimin’s face. He knocked on the door, multiple times, calling out to you, until finally giving up and leaving.
You stared at your phone for a very long time in the warmth of your room. 6 calls and 4 texts, all from Jimin. You had to admit, it was heart warming to know that once he was home, your phone was bustling with messages and voice mails.
You had pressed the big green button when your phone lit up the 7th time. His voice came out in a rush even before you held the cool device up to your ear.
“…so sorry and I love you. Let me prove it to you. Come over, right now. No, I’ll pick you up. Be ready in 10 minutes, okay?”
You wordlessly hung up the phone at 12:42 AM and climbed out of your bed in nothing but a simple camisole and your underwear. Everyone in your house was asleep, so you had slid on a bath robe and left your home to meet him outside.
Jimin had kept to his word, parking his 1972 model Chevy truck in teal blue on your graveled car park in the darkness of the night. He cocked his head to the passenger seat, to which you slid into and there, you spoke quietly of your troubles. By the time you finished talking, it was just passing the 3 AM mark, and Jimin urged you to go back into the house for a wink of sleep. You had of course refused, wishing to hear more of his summer apart from you. All he did was kiss your lips and tell you he had missed you all summer.
You continued to kiss him, telling him you loved him while he invited those kisses, pulling your body onto his lap. The first time you and Jimin made love was in Jimin’s Chevy truck, at 3:09 AM.
After 3 years, 8 months, and 9 days, you and Park Jimin rose to an alter of white to pronounce your love in Holy matrimony. 3 longs years it had been, and 3 years longer it would go.
Your mother had tried to tell you marriage did not signify love, it only crucified you together until you were tired of the other. You did not believe her. Not at first. Not for 3 more years.
The first year of your marriage it was nothing but smooth sailing and high tides. The both of you traveled miles from where you called home, hand in hand the whole way as you explored foreign territories. You touched places from Brazil, to Paris, all the way to Beijing.
The both of you had laced your fingers together so tightly you could’ve sworn he was simply molded as your other half. Everyday you awoke in a new place, tangled together, most of the time you were both nude and still worn from the night before.
The second year of your marriage, the two of you had run out of money from travelling, and were forced to move in with your parents. Still very much in love and simply young adults, the two of you both got dead beat jobs that allowed you to make it through the day.
That same year, you had 2 miscarriages, declared bankruptcy, and got into a car accident that had forced Jimin to finally junk his 1972 Chevy truck in teal. The truck you had given your body to Jimin to the first time, the truck that had been used for much more than a truck.
The man who had once been your love, was now the reason your smile was simply a ghost of what it used to be. Living in a basement that was always filled with moist air and only had lamps to illuminate it, you grew tired of hearing his voice every day.
He had become someone he vowed not to become. A villain. The times you guys fought were countless compared to the handful of fond memories you had shared together. 5 years had gone buy, and you were beginning to hate the thought of that staircase Jimin relayed his love to you on.
Neither of you slept in the same bed, anymore. Most nights Jimin took refuge on the old, trashed sofa’s you’d found half price at a thrift shop, while you lay in the all too big, king sized bed and stared up at the ceiling. Seeing him every day made you feel emptiness hollowing in your core, and you wondered just where all the love had hid, if not escaped entirely.
Jimin came home late, as time went on, and he no longer smiled that breathtaking smile that he once had. Instead, long, hard glares in your direction and harsh words that had you locking yourself in the bathroom for hours, crying at the thought of him. He wasted what money the two of you had left on alcohol, and you were never surprised to find him passed out on the floor, in a pool of his own vomit.
On your 6 year anniversary, your 3 years of marriage as well, Jimin returned home sober, much to your surprise. His bottom lip had been chewed raw, and his cheeks were stained with tears. For the first time in a year, Jimin took your hands in his own, cold, damp ones from the downpour.
“I cheated on you,” was all he said, before shucking off his jacket and retreating to his sofa. There was no point in crying any longer. All you felt was the same emptiness you felt whenever you stumbled across his touch. Jimin had used you for sex, mostly, and nothing else. He was no longer worth the chase, even if you had tried to salvage the love you once had.
That once familiar scent of his became unknown, as if you no longer knew the man that held the key to your parents basement. The man that had once warmed your bed, on long winter nights, now left you cold and alone on sleepless nights until the early morning
That is why you found yourself in the overflowing bathtub as your slit wrists filled la vie en rouge.