He's Mine | Jikook

71| Now You're Mine

Jimin listened as hesitant footsteps walked down the corridor, echoing through the entire first floor. He put the key inside his pocket, turning around and waiting for Jungkook to reach the bedroom door. However, the older never appeared. And the noise disappeared, too. Frowning, he stepped outside. Another room's lights were turned on - the children's room. Tilting his head, Jimin began approaching it curiously.

The toys were gone. Some of the furniture, too. The closet was empty, and the only personal stuff left were small drawings hanging on the pink walls. Jungkook found it hard to breath, eyes burning as he stared at them in regret. One picture stood out in particular- it showed two smiling stick figures holding hands, the tall one blue and the smaller one pink. They were surrounded by flowers and sunshine, seemingly waving at him.

Above the figures, someone had  scribbled a little caption in different colors.

'Papa and me'

He couldn't take it. Jungkook fell on his knees, eyes squeezed shut as tears rolled down his face and small sobs escaped his lips. Jimin stood there, behind him. He saw the man fall apart, crying and murmuring incomprehensible words. It was so pathetic. And hard to watch. He had to look away. Instead, his gaze wandered around the room as he took his surroundings in. Much had changed. Back then, everything was colorful and full of life. One glance, and you immediately knew whom it belonged to. It had portrayed a child's innocence and personality, furnished with love and affection.

However, everything had an end. Even this. The warmth was gone, replaced by a shattering cold. The perfect metaphor for a ruined childhood.

Jimin remembered his own. He, too, had once had a beautifully decorated room, though it was quickly adorned with new possessions and expensive items. The plushies were packed in a box and put inside the basement as there was no more room for them. After all, the shelves had to carry trophies and awards now. The drawings were also removed. Instead of those, there were now framed, professionally taken pictures and clippings from magazines in which he had advertised for various brands. A few years later, these would be replaced with more salacious ones, in which he posed semi-nude and began selling himself and not their products.

"Mom, take it down. What if my classmates visit me?" Said a sixteen-year-old Jimin, glancing up at his mother.

"Stop being dramatic. Your most important parts are all covered up, it's perfectly fine for your age."

"They'll think of me differently. I look like a porn star."

"How? Have you ever seen erotic photoshoots? You look nothing like them."

"The make-up, barely visible clothes, my posing-"

"Oh honey, wait till you become an adult," Sarang laughed, shaking her head as she readjusted the frame.

"Why does it have to be so big? Can't we just keep it in a picture book?"

"Yes, let's put it right next to your grandparents' wedding photos," she scoffed sarcastically, "You're a star, Minnie. The pictures are going to be shown everywhere anyway, so why worry about this one?"

"I don't understand why I have to do this. Seokjin's parents don't let him take pictures like this either," Jimin argued, remembering how angry his friend's mother had sounded through the phone once Sarang had sent her the pictures of him. He couldn't hear the exact conversation, but things like 'exploitation, 'you're his mother' and 'perverted photographer' were mentioned. Sarang had just rolled her eyes, seemingly not understanding the big fuzz over them.

"Well, his parents are old-school. I know the industry better than anyone else, sweetie. There are so many things you'll yet have to see. Oh, you'd be surprised if I told you what kind of jobs I had to do when I was your age."