Second chance

Basketball girl

Jimin's POV

I sat beside her - the basketball girl - watching her lie unconscious on the infirmary bed. Her breathing was steady, her brows softly relaxed, as if she were simply taking a nap rather than recovering from a head injury I caused.

I hadn't meant to hit her. God, I really hadn't. I was frustrated after our loss and had kicked the basketball in a moment of anger - a stupid, impulsive reaction. I shouted at her to watch out, but the ball had already found her. The sound of it colliding with her head echoed louder in my memory than it ever had in reality.

Now she lay here because of me.

She looked... peaceful. Not angry. Not in pain. Just... calm. Her long lashes rested gently against her cheeks. Her nose was slightly pointed - the kind that made you want to poke it for no reason. Her lips were parted slightly, soft and tempting-
Wait. What the hell was I thinking?

I blinked, shaking my head. Pull it together, Jimin. You knocked her out, not fell for her.
Still, I stayed.

Ten quiet minutes passed. Then, she stirred.

As her eyelids fluttered open, I immediately stood and leaned closer. "Are you okay?" I asked, my voice soft, almost guilty.

She groaned and slowly sat up, clutching her head. "Just... a bit of a headache," she mumbled. "What happened? How did I get here?"

I swallowed hard. "I-um... I accidentally hit you with the ball. I swear I didn't mean to! I was just frustrated. It was a complete accident, I promise. Please believe me." The words spilled out like a confession I didn't know I'd been holding in.

She didn't respond right away.

I looked down, heart sinking. She's mad. Of course, she's mad. Why wouldn't she be?

Then, a soft sound. Laughter.

I looked up.

She was laughing. Genuinely. And god - she looked even cuter when she laughed. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, her hand clutching her stomach, trying to contain it.

I blinked, confused. "Why are you laughing? Did I hit your head that hard you lost a few screws?"

"No, no," she said between giggles. "You just looked like a kid who broke his mom's favorite vase. Head down, guilty eyes and all."

I rolled my eyes, though a smile tugged at my lips. "Hilarious," I muttered sarcastically. "Here I was, panicking you'd wake up mad, and you're busy mocking me."

"Sorry!" she said, still grinning. "It's just... you looked cute like that."

I felt my cheeks heat up. Cute? Me?

Turning away to hide my blush, I muttered, "Whatever. We should get going. It's already late."

Her expression changed. "Late? How long was I out?"

"University closed an hour ago," I replied. "The nurse let us stay since you were still unconscious."

She nodded and slowly got to her feet. I watched her carefully.

"Are you sure you can walk?"

"I got hit in the head, not the legs," she said, rolling her eyes with a smirk. "I'm fine."

"Right, right," I said with a chuckle. "No need for sarcasm."

As we stepped out of the building, I noticed her heading in a different direction. "Where are you going?"

"Uh... home?" she said, pointing vaguely.

"Wait up! I'll drop you off." I jogged to my bike.

"No thanks," she called. "I'm not getting on that thing."

I turned back to her, raising a brow. "Why not? Afraid of bikes?"

"N-no!" she stammered, avoiding my gaze. "It's just... what if you kidnap me or something?"

I smirked. "Did I hear that right? The great basketball girl is afraid of bikes?"

She glared, marched over, and snatched the spare helmet from my hand. Without another word, she put it on.

"Hop on, basketball girl," I said, swinging a leg over my bike. "I promise not to kidnap you."

She climbed on behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist.

"If you drop me, I'll kill you," she warned.

Her arms tightened slightly around me, and my heart jumped in my chest. Why did that feel... nice?

Y/N's POV

As soon as Jimin started the bike, I instinctively held onto him tighter. I'd always hated speed. Even the smallest bumps made my heart lurch.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at my house. I let go of him and stepped off the bike, taking the helmet off.

"Thanks for the ride," I said, offering a small smile.

"You're welcome. It's kind of my fault you were here so late anyway," Jimin replied, taking the helmet from me.

"I should go before people start to worry," he added before riding off.

I stood there, watching the red tail light of his bike disappear down the road. A strange warmth lingered in my chest. Then I turned and walked inside.

The house was silent. As always.

Mom and Dad weren't home. Aunt Choi had taken time off for her son's wedding. That left me alone. Again.

In the kitchen, I spotted a familiar note stuck on the fridge. Mom's handwriting.

"Sorry, dear. Me and Dad won't be home early tonight. I've packed your dinner - heat it up and eat it.
Mom and Dad love you."

I sighed, opening the fridge and reheating the food. I sat at the dining table, poking at the rice with my spoon.

They always said they loved me - in notes, in text messages. But they were never here. Never present. Somewhere along the way, I stopped believing the words.

Maybe that's why I'd become so... reckless. Spoiled. Trying to be noticed - first at home, then in university, then everywhere. I thought if I acted out, if I was loud enough, bright enough, someone would finally look at me.

But even the attention I got wasn't real. It was all for my status, my name, the things I could offer. And when I stumbled, when I made mistakes - they vanished. People who once cheered me on pretended not to know me.

I've made mistakes. A lot of them.

But not anymore.

If they don't care, then I won't either. I'm done trying to earn love that never wanted to be given.

The thoughts coiled around me like vines, dragging down whatever appetite I had left. I stood up, abandoning the half-eaten meal, and trudged toward my room.

I changed into my pajamas, collapsed onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling.

"Will future be okay?" I whispered.

The silence didn't answer.

Eventually, I fell asleep - still waiting for someone to notice.