"So you have a big time crush on my brother?"
"I'm going to kill you Park Jimin," I said darkly.
"This is going to be great blackmail," he laughed.
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Intended for each other since birth... HAH! Pah-lease, more lik...
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Jimin showed up on our doorstep the next day. His mother's hand on his shoulder as she pushed him inside;
"Sorry about this Ji-ae," she sighed. "You're taking care of the sick and dying again?"
Ji-ae sighed and shook her head with a wide grin. "So Jimin's sick too now?"
It was one of those rare occasions where I mustered up the motivation to part with the study. I peeked around the hallway corner and saw Jimin waddle into the house in a t-shirt and sweats, clutching onto his lumpy pillow. Jimin, who so rarely ever caught colds, really had gone out of his way to catch this one. He had come down with it quick, maybe because he was motivated to get sick rather than stay healthy. Jimin waltzed over to me, looking like a disgruntled puppy. It was still quite early in the morning and it seems as though he'd just been woken up. We walked together to the study and curled up on the couch.
"Will Ji-ae make more soup?" He asked.
"Probably."
"Still watching anime?"
"Definitely."
"Good." He blew his nose loudly and whimpered. "This sucks, why'd you have to give me this cold?"
I levelled him with a death glare. "It's your own fault you idiot."
"But my throat is sore, my nose is runny and my head is all heavy and fuzzy feeling."
"Good, partake in my pain."
Jimin groaned miserably and flopped into my lap, burying his face there. He looked like a little child and my hand felt a deep-rooted temptation to pat his fluffy black hair to further dishevel his bed head. My days of resisting Jimin were coming to a close; I brought my hand up and ran my fingers through his black waves, gently tugging any tiny knots loose when they interrupted my strokes. Jimin hummed, I felt his voice in his throat vibrate against my leg rather than actually hearing it. After a long moment he twisted around so that he was lying on his back, face looking up at the ceiling. It was cute when his hair fell across his forehead like this, it was a softer look than the way her usually had his hair gelled up in a fashionable parting. His black hair was puffy and soft, long enough to brush his dark eyelashes. His dark, glassy eyes flickered from their dozing concentration on the ceiling to meet my gaze and they were warm like honey once more. Just like they'd been in the cave in that forest we'd lost ourselves in. I hurriedly broke eye-contact, not having the courage enough to hold his ever warming gaze. I turned my attention on his fringe and started sweeping it back from his forehead, raking it back with my fingers exposing his forehead to the morning sun streaming in through the window behind our couch. I could tell his dark eyes were still fixated on my face. I controlled my expression with great care, no matter who it was it unsettled me to have my face scrutinized by someone so near.
"This sucks," Jimin muttered. Ouch. What was he expecting from a cold anyway? "I feel too icky to kiss you but that was the whole point of getting your cold." He screwed his eyes up, dark brows drawing together. Now I laughed.
