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1.His name was Jeon Jeongguk, and he was destined to die.
Yoongi first saw him on the train platform. He was standing there, young and wide eyed, held tightly in his mother’s embrace. She kissed him, and Yoongi could see how he pretended to push her off, to dismiss her comfort, just for the sake of it, just because that’s what he was supposed to do. Yoongi watched as his teeth sank into his bottom lip, hard, just as his eyes began to shine, blinking rapidly.
He turned away.
Yoongi, being who he is, knew what he was thinking, then – knew what was going through that young boy’s head; all the insecurities, the doubts. All of the so very grown up responsibilities unceremoniously dumped on those narrow, slumped shoulders. He knew, as the boy took those steps towards the opening train doors, gradually becoming obscured by the crowds of dying out sparks hoping to be bright once again, that they would be his last.
Jeon Jeongguk’s spark was not even lit before it was to be snuffed out.
Yoongi sighed. He closed his eyes. Allowed himself one second to mourn the young life; the loss of so much hope crammed into one tiny being.
He opened his eyes, and stepped forwards.
2.
He’s on the train. He’s doing this.
Jeongguk lets out a long breath, one that he’s been holding deep, deep inside for so many years, and lets it trickle out of him, fogging the window. A cloud forms in front of his eyes, slowly dripping down the cold glass as it condenses, pooling at the bottom.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
The rivulets of water re-join, greeting each other at the end of their journey.
Jeongguk shifts, trying to ignore the feeling of unease settling, deep, deep inside.
A man sits next to him. A boy, really – maybe a few years older than himself. Jeongguk stills, head still facing the window. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now, not when his stomach is rolling inside him, threatening to reject its contents over his lap at any second.
3.
For the first time in years, Yoongi felt his heart beat fast on that train, sitting next to that young boy.
For the first time in years, he hesitated.
He knew it was inevitable, of course. All Yoongi had to do was – clean up the mess, afterwards. Make sure they got home safely. Got where they were meant to be.
And Yoongi had seen this scene played out in his head a million times, memorised every detail.
A young, wide eyed boy, full to the brim of hope, sat on a train, watching droplets of water separate, only to find each other once again. A young boy, hoping to find himself just like those miniature streams found each other.
Maybe, this time, this one isn’t meant to leave.
At least, that’s what Yoongi thought, quietly, to himself, as his heart beat fast, sitting next to Jeon Jeongguk on a train to Seoul.
Of course, Min Yoongi does not decide what fate wants.
4.
The train rattles, sending vibrations through Jeongguk’s body – Jeongguk can almost pretend that that’s the reason his hands are shaking so violently.
He misses his mother already.
Closing his eyes, Jeongguk swallows down the bile that rises at the back of his throat. He breathes in, deep, through his nose, holds it for ten whole seconds, before letting it escape, slowly, from his mouth.
When he opens his eyes, he remembers.
Remembers the reason he’s here at all – the reason he decided to book this very train ticket, the one that will take him far, far away from his family; far away from everything he’s ever known; the one that will plunge him headfirst into the unfamiliar, the unknown, leaving him spluttering, water clogging up his lungs, head only just above the surface.
His name is Jeon Jeongguk, and he is destined to become himself.
Because right now – he is no one. He has a name, yes. A physical body. He has his interests, his passions. His family; his friends.
But he’s an actor, playing the role of Jeon Jeongguk – only, he’s never read the play. And he certainly doesn’t know how to act.
But that’s okay.
Because, right now, looking out of the window, view distorted by those six lines of water that become one, Jeongguk thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s moving towards something. Something – or somethings – that will make him into himself. That will find all his missing pieces; pull them from the very depths of those somethings and put them together, filling in all the empty spaces of Jeongguk.
Something that will make him begin.
Jeongguk watches as, belatedly, a seventh drop of water slowly, awkwardly, detaches itself from the cloud Jeongguk’s breath makes and makes its way down, down, down, between the other six rivulets, towards the place where they join.
5.
Yoongi tries not to look back on that day. Tries to forget the sweet, hopeful look in Jeongguk’s eyes; the small, secret smile that formed around his mouth as his head leant on the window, gently moving with the train’s vibrations. For the first time, Yoongi felt something rotten; putrid and unwelcome slither up into his throat, creating a vice around his windpipe and making it impossible to breathe. For the first time, Yoongi thought –
This is not how it is supposed to be.
But it’s too late.
6.
There’s something wrong with the train tracks.
Something about a technical error – or maybe something about the tracks being old and rusty, meaning one of them didn’t switch over like it was supposed to – or, even, a train went the wrong way, somehow, and now it’s speeding towards the very same one Jeongguk is on, breaks screeching, no time to stop, too late –
Faintly, Jeongguk registers people screaming, crying. Calling loved ones, sobbing over the phone that they surely won’t make it, but I love you, I love you so much, it’s okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry it had to be like this, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Faintly, Jeongguk registers everything that he came here for, everything that brought him to this very moment, everything that he hoped for – slipping out of his grasp.
Jeongguk will never reach Seoul. He will never step off the train, terrified but hopeful at the prospect of his new life. He will never dance in the room he was supposed to; he will never sing in the studio that was meant to be his. He will never become so nervous about showing thousands of people what he’s worked for that he vomits; he will never receive an award for the fruits of his hard work; he will never cry with joy over the fact that what he has worked so damn hard for since day one has finally paid off; he will never sing and dance in front of thousands; he will never write his first lyrics, or produce his first song, or cry on his birthday, or laugh so hard he cries every other day, or prove to every damn person who said he would fail that they were wrong, or fall into bed so, so exhausted, but, ultimately, content, because he can feel six other bodies existing through the walls, just as exhausted; just as content.
He will never find his something.
Jeon Jeongguk will never become who he was supposed to be.
He turns to the boy sitting next to him, at the same time as the boy’s head turns too. And he swears, for just a second, that he recognises him.
Then – a deafening, screeching sound, and the very matter of the earth seems to shake around Jeongguk. The last thing he sees are the boy’s eyes, so full of sorrow that something breaks inside of Jeongguk, and he opens his mouth to say something, anything that will mean something – a crushing feeling of hopelessness; of failure rises up inside Jeongguk as he realises that he can’t think of anything – not one thing that he’s said or done in his life that he is really, truly proud of.
But this, like so many other things, is hopeless, and Jeongguk’s voice is torn away as the two ugly vehicles crash at deadly speeds, jerking Jeongguk harshly onto the back of the seat in front of him.
7.
Yoongi didn’t dare open his eyes.
This is not how it was supposed to be.
On the window, above Jeon Jeongguk’s crumpled form, the seventh drop of water turns abruptly. Where, before, it was heading directly for the place where the other six met, slowly but steadily making its way down the glass, it now slides away in awkward spurts, its path jerky and uncertain, until, eventually, it settles, alone.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
Seven.