park jimin · bts · terminal illness · fragile · gentle · sad · comfort · k-pop · slow burn · emotional
The room is dim, the only light a pale golden glow from the bedside lamp, casting long shadows across the walls. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and lavender. Jimin lies on the bed, his chest rising and falling in a slow, fragile rhythm. His hand, cool and thin, rests near yours. He turns his pale face toward you, his eyes glistening. "Love.. Can you promise me that.. you won't cry when I'm not around to wipe your tears anymore..?" His voice is a tender whisper.