[thrussyoongi2017]
"the blinds wide open so he can see you in the dark when you're sleeping
naked body fresh out the shower; you touch yourself after hours
ain't no man allowed in your bedroom; you're sleeping alone in bed
but check your window
h...
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The next week had gone by slow. for jimin, he couldn't have been more thankful. he felt it was the most normal seven days he'd experienced within the entire transitioning period of his move, and it made life seem less haunting.
he wounded up home after the party, his father only arriving a few minutes after him. he was deadweight on his bed (a task yoongi and hoseok struggled with) in a deep state of drunken sleep. and funnily enough, it was the most sound night he'd gotten in a while. he awoke with a head splitting hangover and bitter resentment. he was able to piece together a few portions of his night, mainly the events he remembered before he could piss drunk.
eventually, when he saw his friends later that day, yoongi and hoseok has to break it to them just how tragic they'd been. namjoon's sheepish, dimpled indented smile showed as he rubbed at his neck with an apology. after he, he was the oldest out of jungkook, taehyung, and jimin—he should've acted a bit more responsibility.
"but i'm not their babysitter," he had said soon after, "plus i was enjoying my lean too much to give a fuck."
a question came up from yoongi, directed to seokjin, asking him where he'd been. apparently he didn't leave the party with the group and it worried the hell out of the only functioning members. "i left, it was boring. i should've told you guys." it was a poor excuse, and everyone could call on it's blatant bullshit. no one did.
the remaining days were of jimin on his own mostly. he stayed out of his room as often as he could, not being able to stomach down the bile that rose up to his throat whenever he was within the suffocating confinement for too long. he also felt too exposed with being out in the front yard, he had the inkling and skin tingling paranoia that there were eyes on him.
he was often in his living room or the backyard. it was a bit sad, really, as he truly found comfort underneath the large tree that lived in front of his house. he needed to make sacrifices though, his safety was being toyed with. sometimes, he'd even forget about the burner phone he kept on him at all times. there were some instances where it seared holes into his pockets, and others where it dissolved and ceased to exist.
he drew a lot as well, maybe even more than he had before. he drew parts of yoongi: his hands and the veins that ridged opposite of his palm, his eyes and the delicate lashes that framed them, his lips and the tiny cracks that chapped them. in the tiny square footage that made up his backyard and patio, he sketched the landscape, curling blades of grass and wispy weeds that his mother swore she'd get rid of eventually.
with the huge plant that sat in front of his window, which was placed somewhat to the side of the house, he even drew the rhododendrons with the utmost and pristine detail. they weren't his favorite feature, holding memories that soured his mouth, but they sure were pretty.
it was thursday night when his mother got home from her shift at the hospital, and his dad was cooking dinner, that his heart began to beat abnormally for the first time within his stagnant calm. "i spoke to the min's today." he had begun, dragging a thin slice of pork shoulder into his bowl of rice. "oh?" inquiry lilted the ending of mrs. park's voice, eyes looking up to glance at her husband.
jimin's chewing halted abruptly, whole body tensing at the mention of yoongi's family—most obviously his mom's. he couldn't shake the odd expression anne-marie gave him the night they met, and the overwhelming mental image of it froze his thinking. when his hearing buzzed back in tune, he then was able to focus in on the rest of the conversation, worried his parents had noticed his peculiar reaction.
"they invited us over for dinner this weekend," mr. park spoke slowly around his food—which was good, cautious, as no one knew the heimlich maneuver. "it's over at their house in seoul, which i knew is a few hours away, but i'd really love to make a good impression."
"dear, of course!" supportive as ever, jimin's mom spoke with bubbly words, and jimin's food sunk to his stomach like fist-sized rocks.
"are you sure, your schedules are always so crazy and i wouldn't want you to get in trouble for missing work."
they spoke some more on the topic, but at this point, jimin had zones out. the food in front of him had tasted of bland rubber and a churning twisted his gut. he adored min yoongi.
so much so, that he'd let himself be vulnerable around the older. but he couldn't help but hope the min's son wouldn't be at the dinner this weekend. something about their parents being in such a close vicinity to them made his palms clam up and nerves bundle and coil in anxiety.
he knew the universe never worked with him, though, and min yoongi would definitely be there no matter how desperately he prayed for otherwise.
_______________ hey now, hey now, this is what dreams are made of
