Philophobia 「 Jimin 」

00. 「 cold hands 」

There is a distinct difference between right or wrong, right? Just like up or down, fast or slow, good or bad, etc.

"Which one is it?"

"Left," I groaned, nearly doubling over while grabbing onto my calf with one hand and the wooden beam with the other. While closing my eyes and breathing heavily from the pain, I waited for the spasms to subside.

"Let me see."

"No, I got it," I replied hastily, opening my eyes. The worst of the pain was over. The muscle stopped quivering beneath my hand, but it had became taunt instead. Ignoring my protest, the owner of the voice kneeled down in front of me, placing one of his hands on my calf, pushing mine out the way, and the other around my ankle.

I did my best to straighten myself up. I turned slightly and rested my back against the bars, using it to support my body.

"Didn't you stretch before we started?" He asked as he begin to slowly straighten my leg. My breathing hitched as a sharp pain shot from my leg.

"Of course I did," I replied curtly. He glanced up at me only for a second before looking back at my leg.

"Am I going to have to teach you how to stretch too," he teased with a small smile on his face. I was ready to say something back, something witty, but I didn't. I couldn't. Strong hands began to massage my leg. I looked down only to see the dark hair on the top of his head as he concentrated on what he was doing.

Shifting my attention to the huge double windows that align the wall of the studio, I finally realized how much time had passed. There was only a small amount of sunlight left outside. I wondered if the girls are worried that I've been gone this long, but knowing them, they're not.

I closed my eyes as the fingers moved in a circular motion on my calf, unknotting the muscle. I flexed my foot and instead of pain in my lower leg, now there was just soreness. I sighed to myself knowing that it would last for a day or so. Then, like the snap of somebody's fingers, the atmosphere became thick. I jumped slightly when I felt something soft press against my knee. I opened my eyes and looked, and instead of seeing the top of his head, he was looking right up at me as he placed a kiss on my knee.

"Jimin why'd-," I started but was interrupted by the hungry look in his eyes. I finally registered in my mind how little clothing I had on with just tights and a leotard. My heart started to beat faster, and my hands held onto the wood bars behind me for dear life. It was when he licked his lips that my mind took the direction down south. "I have to go."

Of course, the escape was futile. As I tried to move away, his grip on my leg tighten using his fingers to dig into the muscle. Letting out a small yet, I reflexively turned back and hit him with my hand. Since he was on his knees, the blow to the side of his head, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on him that I intended for. Instead, he smiled and grabbed onto the hand that hit him before yanking me onto the floor and pinned me down.

How can I fight someone that likes the struggle? How can I struggle against something I secretly want? Why would I want something I could never have?

Feeling his breathe travel across my neck...

his hands exploring my body...

his lips marking its territory wherever it can...

it made me question a lot of things. How could the wrong thing feel so right? If I know it's wrong, then why do I keep doing it even if everyone tells me not to? If someone asked me these questions a few miners earlier, I might have attempted to come up with an answer.

The only thing I did know was that his hands were cold, and despite not being the only girl that knew that, they felt good on my skin.