𝙼𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝙱𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚗 | PJM. JJK✔

the beach house

January 20th, 2018

Jimin was pushing forward a cart of books, sighing at how boring his library job was though I hadn't once heard him complain about it to me during our relationship.

I never understood why he chose that job at the Starfield Library.

He wasn't a heavy reader, nor someone who much prefered silence, so I always guessed the reason for his choice of work was exactly because it was the unexpected.

A loud, orange-haired, flamboyant gay guy, who works at a Library to pay the bills.

Who would be able to put him in a box?

I shuffled toward Jimin with hunched shoulders, my head hanging low, and my beanie clutched in my clammy hands, like the nervous fool I was.

I parted my lips to speak a few times, before actual sound left my throat.

"Hey," I said quietly, my eyes slowly climbing up and down his body.

He was wearing a black tanktop, a thin striped blouse that kept 'accidentally' falling from his shoulders, and a silk neckerchief, elegantly tied around his halse.

He was such a tease, that boy. Even back then.

"Hi," he said, trying to pretend he wasn't pleased to see me by biting back his smile. "Didn't think you'd show your face around me again... I thought you were humiliated."

He nochalantly pushed his book cart into the next aisle. "I mean, you did run away after all... last time."

I caught my lower lip between my teeth and swallowed thickly as I followed him. He made me so nervous. I used to think he was perfection molded into a person, and I was terribly afraid of losing this miniscule chance I seemed to have of being with him.

"I just wanted to see you..." I said, touching my ear. "And maybe... a-ask if I could take you out, or something."

He blushed and tucked his hair behind his ear. "You're straight."

"Pansexual. I think. Not straight. I'm definetly not... straight."

Jimin chuckled and combed a hand through his feathery locks that were somewhere in the bright landscape of sunset orange and soft pink.

"Listen sweetheart, I'm not one of those boytoys that will feed your curiosity for dick every once in a while. I won't make you feel good in the shadows while you go off prancing around in the sun with some girl."

He walked past me to shove a book in it's respective section with some sort of pent-up aggression I didn't understand at the time. "Too many guys think being gay is some kind of guilty-pleasure. That me and all my perks belong to the back alleys or the secret forest hide-outs where no one else can judge them for being with me. They expect me to be some sort of concept, or to complete them, or to make them feel alive whenever they need a break from their boring lives. But you know what? They're all out of luck, because that is not me. I am just a fucked up guy, looking for my own peace of mind, so don't assign me yours."