Warm Hands (Ice Cold Heart) | Jimin x Reader

One

"Smile. We're supposed to be happy."

Your husband's voice is carefully light, a brief exhale as his lips brush the outer shell of your ear. Warmth spreads from where his palm holds the side of your waist, the fabric of your sheath dress an obviously inadequate barrier against him as you climb the elaborate stairs leading into the mansion, into the noise.

"I'm trying," you snap back, though the attitude you want to give him is a challenge when your mouth is deliberately curved up to look genuine. Every step you take seems to further exasperate the nerves that have been buzzing in your chest and stomach since well before you arrived here for the party. The damn nerves that have been prickling at you ever since you learned a few days ago of a certain name being on the guest list for tonight.

You shake your head lightly, trying to pull yourself back to the present from the memories that threaten to invade your thoughts. But reality isn't much better. Not when you're completely unused to being this close to Jimin. Five minutes ago, when his fingers first made contact with your hip when he helped you from the car, you were startled. And then you just wanted, instantly, instinctively, to melt into the feeling before you remembered yourself and where you were.

How embarrassing. Undone by the simple fact that you haven't been touched by anyone, much less a man, in so long.

(Back at the house, you mostly try to stay out of each others' way. This current proximity, one that you can really only describe as intimate, has been unsurprisingly absent since your wedding day. While you're not any kind of actress, you like to think you pulled the ceremony off successfully. Looked into Jimin's eyes with all the fake emotion you could muster, and promised to be with him for a goddamn eternity. Well, you've got almost one full year down. Just forever to go.)

Once you've crossed the threshold of the enormous estate, a butler dressed in a smart uniform greets you both with a deep bow. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Park! Welcome to the party. May I take your coats and your bag?"

"Good evening. Yes, thank you." You let your wool overcoat fully slip off your shoulders from where it was artfully arranged. Beside you, Jimin does the same to reveal a creamy white suit, expertly tailored to flatter every inch of the body he seems to spend hours at the gym chiseling. At least that's where you assume he's rushing off to in the early hours of day, duffel bag always in hand when you happen to catch a glimpse in the middle of your own morning routine. You've never bothered to actually ask.

The butler offers you both a polite smile. "Please let any of us know if you require anything from your belongings at any point in the night."

"Oh, I'm sure it won't be necessary to trouble you." Jimin turns to you. "Do you have everything, my love?"

Your breath catches. The tiniest snag at the unexpected term.

God, it's so strange, how easily the affection rolls off his tongue as if he's said it a thousand times before. Or maybe he has, just not to you. Some girlfriend in his past? You wouldn't be surprised, as successful in every area as he is. Maybe he's offered her his arm as he does to you now, a barely-discernible reflection of your hesitation captured in his dark eyes.

You push past the discomfort and force what you hope is a warm smile onto your lips as you slip your bare arm into his. This might be the biggest public event you've had together since the day you signed your life away, but you are determined to do your best. "I'm fine. Let's go in."