Look, everyone! I found some pictures of Cecilia as a teenager in high school!~ That was when we (and her boyfriend at the time) found out that she had abilities like the rest of us! Then a day after that last picture, she gave birth to our first nephew~
Funny how she now works at the school where she first figured out she could do this.
The idea was that Hunk and Lance was fighting over Mr. Cuddles, and his arm/leg rips off. Hunk is devastated because that was his gift from Daddy Keith. So he cries (of course) and Lance feels very bad about it. Lance takes the bear to Shiro and begs him to fix it. Shiro isn´t happy to hear the story, but Hunk loves that bear. Lance and Pidge are Shiros helpers when they sew him together. Like a surgery. Lance presents Mr Cuddle (with bandage) to Hunk, who is so happy he cries. Lots of hugs :)
[The Voltron Family] Mr. Cuddles was Hunk’s most prized possession simply because it was Daddy Keith’s gift to him the very day he got adopted. The three children were playing house while Keith was in his study room and Shiro was trying to make them snacks—just sandwiches really. Lance wanted Mr. Cuddles to be the Grandpa but Hunk won’t hand it to him.
Lance: Oh, cmon, Hunk! Just this one time! We need to have something big. Hunk: *hugs his bear* No. Use Pidge’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles instead! Lance: *whines* *grabs Mr. Cuddles* But we’re already using Donnie and Mikey and Leo and Raph as the kids! We *pulls the bear* need *pulls even harder* Mr. Cuddles!! Hunk: *pulls Mr. Cuddles* I said “No”, Lance! Let go of— Lance: NO. *pulls Mr. Cuddles harder* *rips the the arm off* *blinks* *is very very shocked* *looks at Hunk* Hunk: *stares at Mr. Cuddles…. arm-less* *looks at Lance* Lance: I… I’m.. I’m so sorry Hunk. *holding the broken arm of the bear* I.. I didn’t meant to. Hunk: *eyes starts to water* *rubs his eyes* I told you I… *drops Mr. Cuddles and rushes towards Keith’s study room* Pidge: Oh boy. You’re dead, Lance. Daddy Keith will probably kill you. Lance: *turns to Pidge* *eyes starts to water too* H-He can’t do that, right? Pidge: *shrugs* You know how Daddy Keith gets when it comes to Hunk. Lance: *cries* I hate you, Pidge! Pidge: What? I was just telling the truth! Lance: *wipes his tears* D-Daddy Shiro might know what to do. *hiccups* He.. he can fix this. *sniffs* It will all be okay. Yes, yes it will be. Pidge: *holds Lance’s hand* I’ll go with you.
So that was how Shiro found Lance and Pidge in the kitchen holding a ripped Mr. Cuddles. He had to stop slicing his tomatoes.
Shiro: What happened? Lance: I… *wipes his tears* Pidge: Lance ripped Mr. Cuddles because Hunk wouldn’t hand him to him. Lance: *glares at Pidge* Shiro: *bends down* Oh no. Where’s Hunk? Lance: *bits his lips while playing the hem of his shirt* He went to Daddy Keith. *looks up at Shiro* Can you please do surgery on Mr. Cuddles? You can make him better right? *looks hopeful* Shiro: Well… *examines Mr. Cuddles* *holds the broken arm* This is gonna be some serious surgery. Lance: We will help you!! Just please make Mr. Cuddles okay again! I don’t want Hunk to stay mad at me. *rubs his eyes* I love Hunk and I don’t want him to hate me. *sobs* Shiro: *smiles* *hugs Lance* Don’t cry, buddy. I’ll make it okay. And I’ll be needing two assistants for this operation. *looks at Pidge who smiles brightly*
All three of them went to the clinic and Shiro even had the sign “THE DOCTOR IS IN. Surgery-ing Mr. Cuddles” It was Lance’s doodle at the bottom. Shiro was endeared even though Pidge told Lance it was wrong. Shiro wore his white gown and even gave Lance and Pidge their own mini white gowns (he waited for this day to happen he was so glad he bought mini gowns). They wore surgical gloves and even had face masks. The works. They were gathered around the table, Pidge and Lance standing on chairs as Daddy Shiro was doing surgery on Mr. Cuddles.
Keith: *knocks on the door from the outside* Is Lance in there? Lance: *looks at Shiro* *panics* *grabs Shiro’s sleeves* Daddy Keith… Shiro: *smiles* *says out loud* Don’t disturb while operation is on-going, Keith! That’s against the law! Keith: I don’t care. Let Lance out, Takashi. Pidge: *looks nervously at Lance* Daddy Keith doesn’t sound too happy. Lance: *gulps* *looks at Shiro* *on the verge of crying* Shiro: *pulls Lance to kiss his cheeks* Don’t cry now. C’mon. We’re almost there. Hand me more thread. Lance: *sniffles* *hands the thread* Here. Shiro: Good boy. Pidge, hand the scissors please. Pidge: *hands the scissors* *wipes her forehead* This is intense, Daddy Shiro. How do you do this everyday? Shiro: *soft chuckle* *wipes Pidge’s face with a tissue*
After a few minutes, the door to the clinic opened and Keith was outside holding Hunk’s hand. Shiro was holding both Pidge’s and Lance’s hand as they walked out. Lance was holding Mr. Cuddles.
Lance: *lets go of Shiro’s hand* *looks at Keith* Keith: *expression softens at the sight of Lance in a mini lab gown* *nods at him to give permission to talk to Hunk* *steps aside* Lance: *approaches Hunk* *presents Mr. Cuddles* *hides his face behind the bear* Hunk, I’m really sorry but Me and Daddy Shiro and Pidge did surgery on Mr. Cuddles and– Hunk: *cuts off Lance with a hug* Lance: *taken aback* You’re not mad at me? Hunk: *shakes his head* Not really. Daddy Keith said he’d buy me a new one but I said I didn’t want a new one and so he said he’ll try to fix Mr. Cuddles himself that’s why we were trying to call you so you can hand it to him and– Lance: *is crying* I… I thought you hated me. I thought Daddy Keith was going to scold me… I… *hiccups* Hunk: I would never hate you, Lance. I love you. *kisses Lance’s cheek* Lance: I love you too very much, Hunk! *hugs Hunk tightly* *hands Mr. Cuddles* Here. He’s okay now. *sniffs* *plays with the bear’s arm* See? Hunk: *accepts the bear* Thank you, Lance! *hugs the bear* Pidge: *raises her hand* Hey! I helped too!!
You trusted your parents - your mother, and father.
In your eyes, your father was the strong, reliable pillar of the family that supported the entire household. He always bought you dolls in fancy clothes, dresses covered in sparkling sequins and (fake) diamond tiaras that went along with the mini gowns and you always felt that he was the best father in the world because your friends always told you how lucky you were to receive so many gifts.
But one thing always perplexed you - Although you were so sure that your father was the best man in the world, someone who loved you so much and bought you all of your favourite things, your mother didn’t seem to think the same. Whenever you presented to her, proudly with a wide grin on your face, the newest dress that you got or the latest doll that you had always eyed through the television screen, her lips would curl up into a bitter smile which would scare you slightly.
“Mom? Isn’t she pretty?” You would tip-toe and bring the doll even closer towards her face but she would push your hand aside.
“Do you really think that your father loves you so much just because he gives you a doll?” She would hiss and her face would scrunch up in disgust which ruined her beautiful face. That would be your cue to bring your precious gift from your father away from her sight and behind your back before walking away so as to not anger her even further.
Your mother was a kind, gentle woman and you knew that very well. She was the one who took care of you since you were born, taught you and played with you. That was the reason why you never understood why a simple gift from your father could make her so unhappy and disgusted.
After a few experiences of the same thing happening whenever you tried to share with her the latest present that you received, you stopped doing so, knowing better than to do something that would make her upset. But that didn’t mean that your curiosity had died. You still wanted to know why she acted in such a way. Surely your mother wasn’t like your friends - jealous that your father gave you gifts while they didn’t receive any.
As you grew older, you started to think about the words your mother had said to you - “Do you really think that your father loves you so much just because he gives you a doll?” And one night, you suddenly understood what she was trying to say and at that moment, you weren’t feeling so proud of all the presents you got any longer.
Why is he never around? That question suddenly popped into your head that night when you were turning and tossing in bed, trying to sleep. You couldn’t remember your father ever being a part of your childhood. It was always your mother feeding you, bathing you, playing with you and singing a lullaby until you fell asleep. The only times you saw your father was when he had a present to give to you and that was, well, once a month or maybe, twice.
“Where is daddy?” You spoke up at the dinner table the next day and upon hearing that, your mother froze, shocked at your sudden question. She sat there, searching her mind for an explanation but to no avail, simply because you were only eight, too young an age to understand something called ‘divorce’. No, you would be able to understand what was going on, but even so, she didn’t want you to know about it. Your mother knew how much you looked up to your father as the perfect dad and as much as she hated him for all that he did to the both of you, she didn’t want you to grow a bitter heart at such a young age.
“He’s just busy, dear,” she told you, giving you a small, assuring smile. You trusted her and nodded, picking up your fork and spoon from the table to continue eating the simple fried rice that she had cooked that night.
Busy. That word rang in your head for the rest of the day, refusing to go away. It was as if you could sense something wrong about it but you didn’t want to doubt your mother’s words. Surely, she wouldn’t lie to you. After all, you trusted her as much as you trusted that you father loved you despite him never being around.
A few more years passed and you were thirteen, a beautiful young girl about to become a pre-teen. Many people told you that you took after your mother - her big eyes, wavy brown hair and sharp nose. You wouldn’t be surprised if no one said that you looked like your father, after all, you were quite sure that nobody even knew what he looked like and neither did you. You only had vague memories from years ago since he never came knocking on the door with a present in his hands for the longest time.
“What does your father look like?” A boy named Park Jimin from your class asked you one day. He had chubby cheeks, wavy black hair and crescent eyes, making him one of the cutest boys in your class.
You were flustered, wondering how you should answer such a question. You had no idea what your father looked like but you couldn’t possibly tell him something like, “Oh, my father’s never around so I have no clue about what he looks like.”
Jimin saw you hesitating and he frowned, his arms crossing over his chest as he examined your blushing cheeks and slightly opened mouth. “Do you not know what your own father looks like?” He asked and you shook your head immediately, trying to rack your brain for a something that would answer his question, yet not give yourself away.
“Eh…erm…He has been overseas…working for a year and might have, well, changed….s-so I can’t really give you a specific answer,” you stuttered, managing to come up with something reasonable.
The boy thought for a while, as if trying to decide whether he would pry further or leave you alone. Secretly, you wished that he would stay but talk to you about something else, other than your family which you honestly had no clue about.
“That must be sad,” he ended up saying after that moment of pondering.
“Sad? Why?” You asked.
“Isn’t it sad not to have a father at home?” Jimin stood there and stared at you, finding it baffling that there was a possibility that you didn’t care whether your father was around or not.
You looked back at all the years spent without your father at home and it was as if the family was a puzzle with a missing piece but you also realised that strangely, you had gotten used to it.
“I guess I’m used to it,” you concluded, an emotionless expression on your face which was soon replaced with a shy smile and blush-tinted cheeks when you saw him standing there with a gaping mouth and wide eyes.
“I can’t imagine living without my dad. Without him, I’d be all alone!” he told you and it took awhile to process his words before you realised something.
“Wait. So that means that you don’t have a mom?” you exclaimed but covered your mouth right after, embarassed that you had spoken so loudly. Thankfully, Jimin didn’t mind. He grabbed a chair and took a seat next to you, making you feel nervous.
“I do have a mom. It’s just that she’s never at home. You see, she’s always busy,” he shrugged.
Busy. That was what your mom told you when you had asked about your father. Your father was busy, so was Jimin’s mom.
“That’s what my mom told me as well. She told me that my daddy’s just busy,” you shared with your new found friend who seemed to have something in common with you.
Jimin sighed, resting his head on the desk as he looked up at you with curious eyes. “_______, why are my mom and your dad so busy? Other people’s parents work as well but they are still at home,” he asked you based on what he had observed but you had no idea as well. All you could do was make wild guesses.
“Perhaps your mom and my dad both have very important jobs which require a lot of time,” you said.
“Maybe that’s it. But there’s this word that I recently found stumbled across in the dictionary I have at home which got me thinking,” he told you as he tapped his fingers to no particular beat on the desk. “Divorce.”
You nodded, finding this word familiar but you had never really thought about it.
“What if,” Jimin continued, trying to string his words into the best way possible. It was hard for him to say but he couldn’t help it. “What if our parents actually divorced?”
You shook your head instantly, disagreeing with him. “No, my mother would never lie.”
Jimin nodded his head, his muscles relaxing as a small grin tugged at his pink lips. “You’re right. Neither would my father.”
That day, as you were walking back home, you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket and you took it out, sliding the ‘answer’ button across the screen.
“Yes mom? I’m on my way back home now,” you said. She told you that some friends of her’s visited and that you could go somewhere else first, knowing that you hated having to interact with strangers. Like always, the call ended with a “love you” and a “bye”.
You slid your phone back into your pocket and sighed, wondering what to do for the next two hours or more. Tilting your head upwards, you saw gray clouds gradually filling up the sky and your hand instinctively reached back to feel the side-pockets of your bag for your umbrella. Shit. Next came the search for your wallet. Your mother always prepared a lunchbox for you, hence no need for money to buy food from the cafeteria.
“But you should always bring your wallet just in case,” you remembered your mother telling you and you blamed yourself for not listening. Should I just go back-
“_________!” you heard a familiar voice call your name and you turned around to find Jimin waving at you. A wide smile broke across your face immediately, all the worry you had been feeling somehow disappeared. The boy jogged towards you, his stuffed blue school bag swinging from side to side with each step.
“Why are you just standing here?” he asked, rubbing his shoulders to ease the slight ache due to the weight of his bag.
“My mom’s friends are over at my place and I’m trying to think of a place to go to until they leave. But, well, I didn’t bring my wallet and I think it’s going to rain soon,” you explained and he nodded, a small frown forming on his face.
You saw this and your cheeks turned a shade of light pink. It wasn’t as if you were facing a major crisis, but Jimin looked as if you were distressed and that he had to do something about it.
“It’s nothing rea-”
“Why don’t you come over?” He cut you off, eyes lighting up at the thought of showing you the massive lego set that he had received for his birthday.
However, as much as you wanted to accept his offer, you weren’t too sure whether your mother would allow you to go over to a friend’s house, especially someone whom’s parents she didn’t know and to make matters worse, was a boy. But that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t try.
“I’ll ask my mom for permission first,” you said and he nodded, eagerly waiting for her reply.
The usual ringtone that your mother had set played for a while before the music got cut off and replaced by her sweet voice. “Yes dear? Where are you now?”
You looked up at Jimin who was crossing his fingers and shutting his eyes tightly. “Well, I left my wallet and my umbrella at home and it looks like it’s going to rain,” you started, telling nothing but the truth.
“I told you that you should always carry your wallet around,” she sighed and you stuck out your tongue although she obviously couldn’t see it. Then, you took a deep breath and asked the question.
“My friend said that I could go to his house! Can I?”
There was a moment of silence and you knew that your mother was thinking about it. During that short period of time, you heard the house telephone ringing and realised that besides that, the surroundings seemed pretty quiet which was odd as you remembered your mother’s friends sounding like a pack of hyenas.
“Okay, just this once,” she said at last and you turned to Jimin and nodded your head, a bright grin letting him know that you had gotten permission to go over.
“Thanks mom!” you shouted, a little too loudly. You ended the call as usual before shifting your gaze from the screen to the boy.
It was a short, ten-minute walk before the both of you arrived in front of a small, cozy-looking house built in between two much larger ones, making it look like a mini beef patty sandwiched between two giant buns. The walls were made of greyish-green bricks, the pillars and roof ceramic white. Jimin’s home looked simple compared to the house you lived in but you seemed to prefer the warm feeling radiating from the simple colours, structure, and the smell of pie wafting in the air.
“I guess my dad has made his signature pie again,” he said in a singsong voice and your eyes lit up, an image of freshly baked pie occupying your entire mind.
Jimin ran up the stairs and rang the doorbell, signaling you to go over and you hated to admit it, but you were shy.
“My dad’s not scary,” he assured and you took a deep breath and nodded, hopping up onto the porch just when the door flung open. But the person who greeted you was a woman, and you were shocked, so was Jimin. You were ready to put on the brightest smile and greet his dad with a cheerful voice but your mind went blank when a lady opened the door instead. Is she-
“Mom!” he exclaimed and ran up to her, giving her a tight hug which brought a beautiful smile on her face, a smile that reminded you of Jimin’s. So that’s where he got that amazing smile from. A man wearing a green apron stuck his head out from behind the woman and flashed a smile, pinching his son’s cheeks and saying a loud, “Surprise!”
At that moment, you felt so out of place. It seemed like a family reunion which you didn’t belong in. As much as you were slightly disappointed, you knew how Jimin felt to have his mother visit him after such a long time and you decided that being with his mother was way more important than playing with a friend.
Tapping him on the shoulder, you said to him softly, “My mother’s friends should have left by now. Have a great time with your family!”
Jimin frowned, tilting his head to the side. “You’re not coming in?”
His parents looked at you with warm smiles on their faces and you swore that they must be the nicest parents in the world.
“Please stay! We have lots of pie,” the man laughed and your lips curled up slightly, thankful for the offer.
“And besides, our son here hasn’t brought a friend over before, let alone a girl,” Jimin’s mother teased and you blushed furiously before reminding yourself that you were only thirteen. Sure, there were friends of yours who had crushes and ‘boyfriends’, but you knew that none of them lasted for a week.
“It’s getting a little cold outside, isn’t it? Everyone, in the house!” his father gestured before running back in, followed by his mother. Jimin looked at you and waited.
“Let’s not catch a cold,” you said hurriedly before dashing into the house with him grinning brightly, right behind you.
As you walked back home, you thought of the lively conversations at the table while eating bites of pie with sips of hot chocolate in between. You remembered Jimin’s mother’s big announcement that she would be changing jobs so that she would have more time with her husband and child. The new job wouldn’t pay as much and you were amazed at how big a sacrifice she made for the sake of her loved ones. Deep in your heart, you wished that your father would do the same.
When you arrived at your front door, you hoped that you would see your father standing there when the door opened, just like from the vague memories that were left. He would then tell you that he had quit his job to be with you and your mother again and the three of you would be together for the rest of your lives.
But of course, you told yourself that it was a foolish wish.
Just as you were about to ring the doorbell, the front door flung open and you jumped back in shock, a small yelp escaping from your mouth.
“_________?” A slightly familiar voice said your name and you looked up to see a stack of boxes. But once your eyes flickered slightly to the left, you saw his head popping out at the side from behind the boxes and your eyes widened, you body frozen because you had no idea how to react.
“Honey?” Your mother called as she rushed out of the house and she started panicking when she saw you staring at your father as if you had seen a ghost. “I-I thought that you were at your friend’s house. It’s only been two hours, why are you back so early?”
Your mouth opened to give a reply but what you said was very different from what you had wanted to.
“Dad is that you?”
The man placed the boxes gently onto the ground and you could now see his entire self, his huge feet to his broad shoulders and of course, the face you managed to recognize.
“You have to ask?” He spoke, sounding a little disappointed and you frowned, crossing your arms over your chest which had become a habit whenever you were slightly annoyed.
“It’s not like I’ve seen you a lot. I mean, people forget things after losing them for a long time,” you stated very directly and you could tell that your parents were taken aback. As much as you wanted to run into your dad’s arms and ask him where he had been, whether he would stay or if he would leave again, there was a part in you that wanted to get back at him for leaving you and your mother all alone. Anger. Disappointment. Yes, you were only thirteen and you had no idea what was really going on but you knew enough to know that your father had done wrong.
But then, you realised something that made you turn your attention away from your father.
“Mom, you said that you had friends over. Where are they?” You asked and your mother turned away, her hands fumbling with her shirt fabric.
“Friends? I was here quite early,” your father commented and your mother turned back to defend herself.
“Mom, you lied?” Your voice was shaky, your hands curled up into tight fists by your side.
Your father’s gaze softened as he realised what was going on and he hated himself for revealing the truth. Now, they would have to explain everything to you.
Jimin slouched in his seat and took a glance at your desk once more but you were still nowhere in sight. It was five minutes until class started and he started to wonder whether you wouldn’t be coming that day. Is she sick? He found himself worrying but he shook the thought off his mind, telling himself not to get all concerned just because you weren’t present in school for a day.
The teacher walked into the classroom and the boy sat up straight immediately, hoping that Mrs Lee wouldn’t nag about his posture like she always did. To his surprise, you came in right after her, your back hunched slightly and expression dull as if someone had wrung the colour out of you.
“_________!” He greeted with his signature crescent-eye smile and you turned to look at him, trying to force out a smile for the boy you adored and just made friends with but all that came out was a small, almost nonexistent upward curl of your lips. You didn’t know what you looked like and you hoped that you looked friendly enough because the small gesture took all the happiness you had left to muster.
Jimin knew that there was something wrong from the way you walked, the tiny smile you gave him and your puffy eyes but he kept quiet, knowing better than to pry into your personal life. You silently thanked him for letting you be, telling yourself that you were better off alone at this point in time.
Time seemed to pass even slower that day but you didn’t even mind. In fact, you wanted time to pass even slower - so that you wouldn’t have to go back home. No. It wasn’t even home anymore.
Shutting your eyes and hoping that time would magically stop was simply ridiculous but you did it anyway - and school ended eventually. You packed your bag and slung it over your shoulders, getting out of your seat before pushing the chair underneath the table. From the corner of your eye, you saw Jimin resting his head on his desk like he always did and you felt bad for ignoring him the entire day.
Taking a deep breath, you walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Something came up at home…I’m sorry for seeming so moody today,” you mumbled and he looked up at you with concerned eyes, placing his hand on top of yours and giving it a tight squeeze.
“You can talk to me if you want,” he said and you looked down, wondering whether telling him would be a good idea. Jimin saw you hesitating and he shook his head.
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to. I mean, you might not trust me enough at this point of time,” he tried to lighten up the mood.
Inside, you felt overwhelmed by betrayal, hurt, disappointment and anger. The pain made you feel like exploding, made you feel like wanting to disappear and get away from everyone and you knew that you needed to let them out in a positive way to prevent those feelings from becoming a bitter part of you that you would never be able to get rid of. And so, you looked up at him and told him.
“My parents divorced. They lied to me, all this while.”
Jimin’s eyes grew big and he was at a loss for words, not knowing how to respond, how to comfort you or do anything for that matter. You saw his blank expression and you sighed, wishing that he would stop trying to make everything better because he was already helping you a lot by being someone you could trust.
“You don’t have to say anything to make me feel better. It’ll take awhile and I’m glad that I have someone to share my feelings with.”
The boy slumped his shoulders, gaze shifting away from you. “I’m sorry, I can’t be of much help.”
You gave him a small smile.
“It’s okay. Thank you for being here for me.”
Ever since that day, you and Jimin got closer with every problem that you both shared, every obstacle you both helped the other overcome and with every incident that strengthened your bond. Your father left to another country for good and with Jimin’s help, you fixed the relationship with your mother and the both of you lived happily after months of awkwardness and distrust. He convinced you to give your mother a chance, helped you grow patience and most importantly, showed you how important love was.
His parents and your mother naturally became good friends as well because of all the playdates and visits to each other’s houses on typical days and special occasions. Christmas meant a pie baking contest between Jimin’s father and your mother, easter meaning a competition to see who decorated the most beautiful egg and of course, birthdays which meant balloons, cakes and games.
Jimin and you were inseparable in high school but when the both of you graduated and had to choose a college to go to, that was when you both separated.
Since young, Jimin had a passion for dancing and singing. You had attended a few of the concerts held by his dance school and you knew that the boy was born to perform. He executed challenging moves so effortlessly, his every gesture bringing out a specific feeling and emotion to match with the music. And oh, how his voice sounded sweeter than any instrument, how he hit every high note so perfectly with his voice staying clear and so pure. There was a reputable college of arts which he was accepted into and you were proud of him, but that meant that the both of you wouldn’t see each other as often anymore.
You loved writing. Writing was your way of expressing your thoughts, imagination and dreams through the words typed out into your laptop where all your stories were safely stored in. Unique, long, or short, words intrigued you as you were amazed at how there could be so many different ways to express something, be it an emotion, action or setting. Just as he was accepted into a famous arts college, you were accepted into a well-known literature college where they would teach you skills to help you develop your style until you would one day, hopefully, fulfill your dream of being an author with many great books published.
And that’s when everything changed.
As a student in a literature college, your homework centered around gathering ideas, writing essays, discussing, debating and analysing works from famous authors, poets and playwrights. Not to say that they weren’t challenging, but you enjoyed it. Apart from school life, you still had pockets of time here and there which you used to try to catch up with Jimin but the path he took to become an idol gave you no chance to.
“Have you two met since last month?” Jimin’s mother asked and you shook your head, giving her a sad smile.
“He’s working extra hard for his end of year performance,” you said and she sighed, handing you a glass of apple juice as she took a seat in front of you.
“I told him to drop by when he’s free.”
You took a sip of the drink, recognizing it as the apple juice that you and Jimin used to share and at that moment, you realised how much you missed him.
The clock struck six and Mrs Park’s expression brightened up. “He should be home by now!” she told you and you shook your head.
“He has an extra dance class tonight,” you informed her and she frowned.
“He didn’t tell me.”
“I wanted to pay him a visit and spend some time with him today but he told me about the class he had.” You looked up and saw a disappointed look on Mrs Park’s face and you realised that you weren’t the only one who missed Jimin being around.
“He’s taken this path to become a singer. I don’t know if I’ve let him make the right choice,” she rubbed her temples, seeming very worried for her son’s health, and the relationships that his passion was starting to overtake.
Placing a hand on her’s, you gave it a tight squeeze, something that Jimin always did to you when you felt down and you gave her a hopeful smile.
“Things are starting to change but it’s too late. All we can do is give him all the support he needs.”
Mrs Park nodded, ruffling your hair which made you pout slightly.
“You always know what to say. Thank you dear.”
Things pretty much stayed the same until Christmas came.
For the past three years, both families would gather at either house and spend the evening, all the way until late at night together, eating an amazing dinner with a roast, exchanging gifts and playing games that were planned by you and Jimin. You always looked forward to Christmas and this year, you looked forward to it even more because you haven’t seen Jimin in such a long time.
You had called him to ask him when he was free to come over and plan the games with you but he apologised, saying that the entire November and December would have to be spent practicing for the concert and before you could ask him when it was, he said a quick goodbye because his class was starting.
The big day came and you were all dressed up, carrying a bag full of presents as you waited for Mr and Mrs Park to open the door.
“Welcome!” Mr Park boomed when the door opened, revealing a beautifully decorated house and you grinned brightly, admiring the shining Christmas tree, lights hung around the house and the candles which gave a warm glow to the surroundings.
Mrs Park came out of the kitchen with a huge ceramic plate with a juicy roasted beef sitting on it, carrots and celery soaked in red wine sauce surrounding it. Everything was perfect and you couldn’t wait to start the celebration but just as you were about to take a seat at the dining table, you realised that someone was missing.
“Where’s Jimin?” you asked and Mr Park’s face fell, his joyful front collapsing immediately.
“He’s performing at the concert,” Mrs Park said softly and you dropped your bag of presents.
“Then shouldn’t we be there supporting him?” your mother questioned as you stared at the ground, wondering why he didn’t tell you about it.
Mrs Park placed the plate of roast on the table and sighed. “He didn’t want us to come,” she said as she took a seat, feeling horrible that the entire mood was dampened.
You saw the presents underneath the Christmas tree, the effort put into the decorations and the food sitting on the table, waiting to be eaten and you felt tears welling up in your eyes out of disappointment, frustration, anger.
“_________-” Mr Park called but you had already whipped out your phone, running out of the front door as you dialed Jimin’s number. How dare you Jimin. How dare you.
The call got through and before he could say a word, you spoke, voice filled with hurt, sadness, and he could tell.
“You’re not here,” Your voice cracked, the cold wind blowing at you made you shiver but you couldn’t care less, your anger warming you up in an instant.
“The food is all prepared, lying on the table, growing cold by the minute. The tree is all lighted up with our favourite star right at the top, the star that we chose together three Christmases ago.”
“Hear me out-” he whispered but you didn’t want to. What justifiable explanation could he give?
“I had your present all wrapped and placed in fancy box for goodness sake! I walked in, eager to see you, hug you, tell you that I missed you but no. No, Jimin. You weren’t there.” The tears were rolling down your cheeks, your hands shaking from the cold.
“I’m at my-”
“Concert.” You finished his sentence in a low whisper, your sobs making it impossible for you say a full sentence without choking in between.
“Please, don’t cry,” Jimin pleaded, hating himself for all the crap he had put you through and hearing you crying made him feel even worse.
“What happened- to us? Where have you- gone?” you asked, voice barely coming out of your throat which had gone dry.
“I’m sorry _________. I am just really…” Jimin paused, trying to find the right word to say.
And that was when your heart stopped, memories of your past flooding back into your mind with that one, simple word. At that same moment, he realised what he had said, remembering the words your mother had said to you, the lie that you had held onto and the truth that broke you after.
“You know how much I hate that word,” you snarled, the grip on your phone tightening.