The building ahead of me was humungous. The slanted roof, the two tiger statues next to the entrance hall, the army of pillars in the forecourt—it looked more like a castle than a home for people with mental and physical impairments. 

I pushed the door and stepped inside. Where I had anticipated finding a white and sterile-looking reception desk, like the ones in hospitals or therapy centres, I found a lobby with plush armchairs, a television, and a number of pot plants. There was a collection of photographs along one wall, presumably of the people who lived here. Smiling faces around a barbecue. Snapshots, that seem to have been taken at a football match, as the five people in it wore tricots, team-coloured scarves, and had the widest grins on their faces. Some of those faces looked—well, disabled—I guess. With others, it was harder to tell who lived here or was a member of staff. All of them seemed to be happy though, judged by the smiles in their eyes and the flushed cheeks. 

I could picture Jimin be happy here. There would be home-cooked meals, and he would be going on expeditions to the zoo or cinema. I hadn't done any of those things with him even once. 

"Good morning," chirped a voice from behind me. "You must be Mr Min?"

"Yoongi, please." I turned to a woman with a round face, a wide smile, and sparkling eyes, whose age was hard to guess. 

"Yoongi, it's lovely to meet you. Welcome to MOTS house. My name is Ms Eli, and I am overlooking group seven."

I nodded. The information was in the email MOTS administration had sent me two days ago. There were currently six residents in group seven with space for one more. The resident's ages ranged from twenty-two to thirty-nine, and there was no one with severe mobility issues, meaning they would go on weekly outings and occasional hiking trips. 

"I would need you to put on this pair of disposable gloves," Ms Eli handed me a box. In turn I handed her my negative covid test results, which I had received at the therapy centre this morning when I dropped off Jimin. 

"Wonderful, Yoongi," Ms Eli said, studying the date and signature. "Follow me this way, please."

We walked up a large staircase with a prominent handrail on each side. There was also a lift, but this was meant to be used by residents with severe mobility issues only, and everyone else was encouraged to walk instead, Ms Eli explained. "We try to lead by example, of course."

"Of course," I parroted. 

Group seven was located in the West wing on the third floor. Ms Eli led me through a plexiglass door into an open lobby that was clustered with an array of couches. To the side was a kitchen, and next to it was a long corridor with several doors attached. At the end was a large terrace, overlooking the mountains. The only thing I didn't see were any people. 

"We do our utmost to offer the residents a most self-sufficient lifestyle. This entails going to work Monday to Friday, between the hours of ten to four. There are several workshops at their perusal, and our residents will be placed according to their possibilities."  

"What kind of work do they do? I mean, Jimin was a journalist before…you know. I don't think he'd be able to…" I trailed off, looking at the reusable coffee mug in my hands. It was a white plastic mug with some squiggly lines and dots that were supposed to resemble flowers. Jimin had painted this during a therapy session and gifted it to me. The small shapes at the bottom were supposed to read 'hyung, I love you,' but I wouldn't have been able to guess that on my own. "I don't think Jimin remembers how to write," I admitted.

"There are different types of workstations: One of the main job supplier is an online retailer for whom we gift-wrap parcels. We also fold cloths and towels for some local hotels, and there is some simple woodworking."

I looked back at my squiggly lined mug. "I think Jimin would enjoy to be…creative" I said, and wondered whether there would be any option for this.

"This is great," Ms Eli smiled. "There is a local florist, who sometimes sends over terracotta pots to be painted."

"I think Jimin might enjoy that," I said in a dry voice. It's been months. I should have got used to the 'new' Jimin by now. Yet, the idea of my NYU educated, Tokyo and London trained brother would be painting terracotta pots for a living sounded…all wrong.  

"We have a cleaning rota here," Ms Eli pointed at a colourful poster on an oversized fridge. "Each resident has chores, according to their skill level."

Apparently this week, Hyunmin was in charge of drying the dishes, Hana was responsible for watering the flowers, Seiko's job was to vacuum, and Klaus was setting the table for each meal. 

It seemed very…homely.

"Let me show you the rooms," Ms Eli said and took me down a green painted corridor with resin-coated flooring. The corridor was wide and held space for a bookshelf, a small table with a collection of cactuses, and a huge wardrobe for storage. 

The vacant room was the second to the left. It had blue coloured walls, one of which had two whales surrounded by some squiggly lines painted on it. I assumed they were supposed to resemble waves. A twin sized bed was placed underneath the window, and there was an adequately sized desk with a swirling chair, a large shelf, and a wardrobe lining the wall to my left. The room  itself was bright and a little more spacious than the studio we currently shared. 

I stared at the whales on the wall. "It looks cosy here." I was glad that MOTS house didn't resemble a hospital. Rather, it looked like a normal house, with personalised touches at every corner. 

"It is important that our residents are comfortable here. Any personalisation is encouraged. This is a long term care facility, Yoongi." 

"Jimin…" I trailed off, scratched my head then swallowed a knot of air that somehow got stuck in my throat. "Jimin has some… issues."

"Issues in what sense, Yoongi?" Ms Eli took me back to the living room where she gestured for me to sit down on one of the couches. She refilled my cup with some filtered coffee. 

"He…doesn't particularly like to shower," I admitted, hoping she wouldn't ask why.

Ms Eli laughed. "Most of our residents have some quirks in terms of personal hygiene. Our staff is well trained to take care of this, and will ensure good body hygiene is maintained in a dignified manner. There is nothing to worry about, Yoongi."

I nodded, relieved to hear this. Overall, the place made a good impression on me so far. I could see Jimin being happy here. 

"And what about visitations? I mean… I am not planning on abandoning my brother, you know. I would want to visit him, and do stuff."

"Of course, Yoongi. We hope you would. We are here to help Jimin live his daily life, and provide weekend entertainment to degree, but we encourage strong family ties. In fact, we have three residents here who are usually picked up every Friday and brought back Monday morning—it has all changed with the current situation, of course. These days, we unfortunately have to be a little bit stricter with visitations, but most residents have a very close relationship with their relatives. There are regular visits to the park or the cafe, and we assist with video call sessions or phone conversations. Any form of contact is, as I said, highly encouraged."

"So, once this covid mess is over…I could—for example—take Jimin on a fishing trip?" 

"Absolutely. It's great to know Jimin likes to fish. We…"

"Erm…" I said and my cheeks turned a bright red. I enjoyed fishing… I had no clue what Jimin's stance was on that. Who didn't like fishing, though?  

The transfer would be very swift. Jimin could move to MOTS house as early as next week. Upon arrival, he would have to self-isolate for two weeks, but then he could meet his new housemates and hang out in the living room. 

If I wanted to visit, I only needed to provide an up to date negative covid test, which could be done on site. That was, at least, until restrictions didn't change. 

All sounded rather promising. 

What I liked most about the place was that they even had a swimming pool for Jimin to hang out, and their own rehabilitation facilities, meaning Jimin wouldn't have to shuffle to the hospital and back for any of his therapies. 

The bathroom and any other facilities were built with mobility impaired people in mind, and came with handrails, non-slippery grounds and such, so Jimin could move around freely. I suppose, this was the most normal life he could live—considering all circumstances. 

Why hadn't I thought of this earlier? The misery of the last couple of weeks could have been prevented had he moved straight to the care home. 

With a jolt, I realised that this was exactly what my parents had in mind. After several weeks of hardship and unnecessary stress for Jimin, I had finally reached the same conclusion as they had. What a fucking idiot I had been. 

I sighed, searched my pockets for a pack of cigarettes, but didn't find any. Yeah, right. I still tried to give up smoking. I sighed.

This was for the best though. For Jimin. Although we wouldn't live together for much longer, I should be setting a good example. 

I decided to forfeit the bus and walk to city centre instead. According to Ms Eli, this was only forty minutes from here, and residents would venture into town frequently. 

"Of course they are accompanied by a member of staff. We cannot wait until the cafes are allowed to open again. Getting into town for rice cakes and tea was a favourite pastime of most residents." 

I guess Jimin was more of a cappuccino and parfait type of person than a rice cake and tea enthusiast, but I guess it was the same sentiment. At least he would get out of the house, take part in activities and have some quality added back to his life. 

All went well, I texted Joon. The place is perfect. And Jimin can actually already move in end of next week. 

Sounds great, came the swift reply. What is the group like? What are the dynamics? How will his day be structured? 

I shared what I had found out, and added info about their activities.

I guess most of it is currently void due to the situation, but I am glad Jimin will be able to do those things with his group soon, Joon's text was imminent.

So am I, I responded. My brother had always been a social butterfly, and having nothing but my introverted ass for company couldn't have been all too healthy. 

So, will you tell Jimin tonight?

I stared at Joon's text. I think I will. I only needed to figure out how. 

For the following few days, I waited for the perfect moment. I even collected a brochure from MOTS house with a handwritten note from Ms Eli, which I planned to read out to him. But the timing never seemed to be right. First, Jimin had another accident and was in dire need of a shower—something, that still didn't go down without a spectacle. 

The next day was a big drama because the convenience store had run out of plain Bangtan Bars. We ended up trying three different stores, and even went to the one inside the big shopping mall, but no luck. 

"There have been some issues with the delivery," one of the sales assistants explained. "We don't expect any more bars to come in before June."

"June? It isn't even May, yet?"

"It will be…soon," she responded with a mock-cheerful voice. But this didn't mollify Jimin in the slightest. He threw a tantrum until he got carried from the store by security. The second convenience store he got banned from. I sighed. Again, it had been a complete overreaction from the manager on site. Again, I listened to the same spiel about them being a charitable open-minded organisation that donated to people in need. Again, I couldn't give less of a crap about their excuses. 

They gave money to charities that would in turn keep the disabled people out of their sight. None of those arseholes wanted someone like Jimin around, unless it was for a pic in the newspaper. Hypocrites. All of them. 

Now, it was already time to pack Jimin's bag, but he still didn't know. 

As I folded his sparse amount of underwear and t-shirts into my old beaten-up backpack, I pondered whether this really was the right decision. Objectively, this was the best place for him. They had everything he would to flourish. And I would still be able to visit. Yet, I couldn't shake this uneasy feeling in my stomach. 

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