Prologue
( Tyler is his deceased husband)
It will get better, I promise lol
Age 16
Park Jimin met Tyler Wells in art class when he was a junior in high school. They were seated next to each other at the beginning of the year, and in typical Jimin fashion, he flicked a thick blob of red paint in Tyler's general direction, covering his fresh piece of white paper.
Tyler sighed deeply and turned towards Jimin. " Can I help you?" he asked, gaze steady.
Jimin smirked. " I don't know, can you?"
He snorted. " You just fucked up my art project."
" Looks like you hadn't done much yet. I think I was helping you out."
Tyler raises a brow. " Hm. I think you might be right. Be right back."
Jimin opened his mouth to question what the hell that meant, but Tyler stood up and went to the front of the class. He handed his nearly dripping sheet of paper to the teacher, and Jimin strained to listen when Tyler said, " I think of this as how my mind feels right now, you know? A little messy, but bright and room for change. Abstract, if you will." Then, he looked over at Jimin and winked. Jimin wanted to smack the smug look right off his face.
He didn't hear what the teacher said next, but he could tell it was high praise based in the way Tyler waltzed back to his seat next to Jimin, pep in his step, his smile strong. He slid back into his chair and waggled his eyebrows at Jimin, whispering,
" Guess who's done for the rest of the period?"
Jimin choked back his laugh. " You win," he admitted, and slammed his hands down on the table in defeat.
Tyler pumped his fists in the air in mock victory. " Oh, and by the way," he said, grin still addictive, " I'm Tyler Wells."
" I'm Park Jimin."
" Good to meet you. Don't ever fuck with my stuff again."
And just like that, Jimin was hooked.
Jimin and Tyler became inseparable friends after that, spending as much time together in school as they possibly could, and spending even more time together outside of school. They fell into a rhythm, taking turns spending time at Jimin's house when his abundance of sisters weren't home, and moving to Tyler's when the Park residence became too crazy. They played basketball in the driveway, video games in the basement, worked out in the gym down the road. Jimin's normally resistant to letting new people in, found himself letting his guard down easily for Tyler, and loved how comfortable he felt in his presence. Even friends he'd had in his life forever couldn't compare to Tyler.
After a few months of the same routine - hop in Jimin's car, drive to Tyler's house, eat their weight in pizza and other garbage food, and eventually drive himself home, happy and full - Tyler met Jimin after their last class and bumped their shoulders together, " Min, I cant hang out this afternoon."
Jimin paused. " What, got a hot date?"
Tyler smirked. " Nothing like that. I've just been totally neglecting my other friends."
He tried to ignore the pit of jealousy stirring in the pit of his stomach. He mostly failed. " Can we hang out together?"
" I think...That we should all get together on a different day, maybe?" He looked nervous, a bit annoyed, and finished his thought with a shrug.
Jimin was unreasonably pissed. " I don't get it. Do your friends not like me or something?"
" No. Min. They haven't even met you, how could they not like you?"
" Exactly my point. Let's all hang out."
Tyler sighed with frustration. " I haven't seen my best friend Jungkook outside of school for weeks, Jimin. I fucking miss the kid. I'm hanging out with him today, just me and him, and I'll catch up with you later. Don't make me feel bad about it."
Jimin wanted to scream. " Who the fuck is Jungkook?"
" If you've never heard me talk about Jungkook, you're clearly a self centred dick. He's the freshman who lives next door to me. We've grown up together. He's been my best friend for years."
He nearly shook with anger; his jealousy threatened to seep out if his ears. " A fucking freshman? Are you kidding me?"
" He's only a year younger than me, and two younger than you. Relax."
" I am fucking relaxed."
Tyler snorted. " Seems it."
When Jimin stormed off a minute later, he realised he may have been a bit out of line, and that his reaction was potentially not normal. Not even slightly.
It was around that time that Jimin realised he was gay, and that maybe, he was quite possibly very in love with the boy from his art class.
( Even when the same boy made him feel like a total shit a week later when Jimin met Jungkook and they got along embarrassingly well. Jimin had to force himself to spit out the words,
" Okay, i fucking love Jungkook, are you happy?")
(Fuck)
Eight Years Later
Jimin was sitting in the darkness of his living room; face illuminated by the vow of the television. He wasn't watching the program, though. A blanket draped over the back of he couch behind him, and he reached for it, shivering. Normally, Tyler would light a fire in the fireplace. This night, Jimin wouldn't let himself think about that.
From across the street, his neighbours home was decorated in tinsel and lights. The snow falling outside was something he would normally welcome. He bit at his bottom lip. He felt sick to his stomach.
Looking around the living room, Jimin tries not to focus on the plethora of pictures of him and Tyler. He couldn't muster up the courage to put them away, smash them, ruin them, save them forever, something other than let them sit there, staring at him. He whined, tears building up. God, he was tired of crying. He pulled the blanket up higher, hugging it closer to him. If he really tried, it still smelled like his Tyler. The tears fell freely, streaking his face. " I am so pissed at you for leaving me," he said out loud to no one, voice breaking on the last word.
He slumped down further into the couch, hating how cold the Pennsylvania air was; it seemed to be sleeping under every door and through every window, bringing a horrible chill into the room. He squeezes his eyes shut and he wished he could be anywhere but here. Would he ever stop shaking?
He was plotting a way to leave everything behind in search of something to thaw his bones, thaw his foul mood that he can't seem to escape, when a knock came at the door. Confused, he ignored it, hoping whoever was behind the door would go away. He didn't invite anyone over for a reason.
The knock came again - louder this time - and Jimin sighed loudly. He stood and wrapped the blanket around himself tightly, making his way through the darkness to the door. He braved himself for the cold as he pulled the front door open.
A young woman, probably a year or two older than Jimin himself, stood in front of him, her heavy winter Jacket zipped up to her chin, her eyes wide.
" Mr Park?" she asked.
He nodded. " Are you making deliveries on Christmas Eve? Is that even allowed?" It's not what he meant to say, but it's out before he can stop himself.
She smiled slightly, shifting on her feet. " I'm Jesse. I work for the Bernard Family of Philadelphia. Have you ever heard of us?"
Jimin shook his head. Please leave.
" My family has been breeding St. Bernard dogs for the past 45 years, and we received an unusual request from a Tyler Wells about six weeks back."
At the mention of Tyler's name, Jimin froze. " How do you know Tyler?" he stammered out.
Jesse took a deep breath. " Your husband wanted you to have this dog, Mr Park."
" What dog? What are you talking about?" He didn't realise until that exact moment that an extremely large box with several holes punctured in it was sitting on the ground next to Jesse's feet.
" There's a letter for you," she said, handing an envelope to Jimin, " And if you decide you don't want the dog, there are instructions on what to do to bring him back." She swallowed audibly. " Merry Christmas Mr Park." She started to make her way back down the front steps into the swirling snow, when she paused and turned around. " Oh, and...Happy birthday, Jimin."
Jimin was frozen in his spot. He didn't know how to react, how to respond, so he stood there, unmoving, until the box in front of him started to shift. Soft, whimpering noises came from inside, and when he squatted down to open the flaps l, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders dragged through the snow behind him.