novocaine || pjm

chapter two

Rolling over on your bed, you met the light creeping into your room with a groan.

"Fuck." You muttered.

You didn't need to get out of bed to confirm what you already knew as fact:

You were viciously hungover.

Gone were the days of your youth where you could drink to your heart's content and hop out of bed to do it again the next day. Instead, you were incapacitated and wallowing in self-hatred for the mistakes made last night.

And what a plethora of fucking mistakes you had made.

Memories of your tongue against Yoongi's resurfaced, accompanied by a wide-eyed Jimin walking in. You reached for the pillow behind your head and pressed it over your face, smothering the sound of your mortified scream.

Letting your hands fall back down to your sides, you couldn't find the strength to remove the fluffy cushion from your face. Maybe if you were lucky, you'd fall back asleep and suffocate quietly, freeing you once and for all from this endless cycle of perpetual regret.

Jimin had woken you up early — he mentioned something about having to head to work — and drove you back home the next morning. You were still somewhat drunk, and if you were honest, your memory of the car ride back was spotty at best. You wouldn't doubt you had made a fool of yourself.

"Oh, good. You're awake."

The curtness of your grandmother's voice was enough for you to push the murder weapon off your face, perching yourself up on your elbows as you met Gram's eyes regrettably.

Her lips were pursed as she made her way to the foot of your bed, tugging her morning robe around her tighter with one hand and offering you a cup of coffee with another.

You took it graciously.

"Now, just because you're an adult doesn't mean I don't deserve a heads up when you're not coming home."

"I'm sorry," You began, eyes falling to the cup of joe you had wrapped both hands around, face twisted in shame. "I thought I was doing the responsible thing, but I just ended up worrying you further. I should have called."

She let out a hum, "You have Hobi to thank for the reason I've decided to let you live to see another day. I got a hit on the hip right as I was slipping into bed. He paged and told me you had gone home with Jimin."

You jerked your head up to face her. Her expression, although unreadable at first glance, held just a hint of suggestiveness. You knew at once what she was thinking.

"What time is it?" You cleared your throat.

"Two in the afternoon. Why? Did you have plans with Jimin today?" She asked, her nosiness poorly concealed with a nonchalant tone.

"What— Grams!"

She threw her hands up defensively.

"No, no, you're right. It's none of my business what you do with your ex-boyfriend."

Your ears burned at the implications of her words.

"We weren't doing anything! He just let me crash at his for the night. Get your mind out of the gutter." You explained yourself hurriedly.

"My, my," She smirked, crossing her legs, "look at you all worked up. I didn't say that you two were sleeping together."

"No, but you were hinting at it." You accused, taking a sip of the coffee. The liquid warmed your insides as it made its way down your vodka abused esophagus.