Yoongi

Bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

Jimin lived in a gray world. His life was divided into "before" and "after" the day the car robbed him of his ease of movement and his former dreams. In the silence of his room, he found salvation in Yoongi's voice. The famous singer, with a husky, soul-piercing timbre, sang of pain, hope, and the light at the end of the tunnel. His words became support, his music—air. Jimin idolized him not as a blind fan, but as someone who found a lost part of himself in his work.

So Jimin's world didn't just collapse, it crumbled to dust when the news broke of Yoongi's sudden death. The official cause was an accident. For Jimin, it wasn't just the loss of an idol, but the collapse of his last pillar of support. The despair was so overwhelming that reality itself seemed to waver. And he was given a chance.

He awoke in the past, a week before the fateful day. Now he was no mere observer, but a shadow, ready to stand in the way of fate. He was no hero. He acted like a man possessed, based on fragmentary news reports. He anonymously sent warnings to Yoongi's agency. He called the police, reporting imaginary threats. On the day it was supposed to happen, he panicked and rushed around the city, trying to guess the location. In the end, he simply went to Yoongi's studio and threw a tantrum at the entrance, screaming about an imaginary bomb, just to evacuate the building and cancel all the singer's plans.

And suddenly—silence. Or rather, not silence, but footsteps. Slow, measured. Jimin raised his head.

Yoongi stood before him. Not on a screen, not on a poster. The real him. In a simple black hoodie and worn jeans, holding a cup of coffee. He didn't look scared or angry. He looked at Jimin with a weary, piercing curiosity that only the closest people saw. His gaze was as hoarse as his voice.

"It's you," Yoongi said. His voice was quiet, but it carried over the wail of the sirens. "The one who called, texted, sowed panic. The shadow that's been haunting my schedule all week."