✓ dirty dancing｜park jimin

together

together: noun
into companionship or close relation.

{looking for someone to make a really pretty cover for this book! msg me}

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11 am

The smell of sugar wafted my senses first, accompanied by the sound of oil sizzling on a skillet, and the sun peering through my closed curtains.

Stretching out in bed, I yawned, my stomach grumbled in reply.

Jimin padded into the room, making his way to the bathroom.

'Oh, you're awake!', he said, with an awkward smile.

'Yeah.', I said in a groggy voice while rubbing my eyes, 'Why?'

'No reason.', he repositioned my blanket, covering me up to my chin, 'Go back to sleep, you need the rest.'

'Huh?', I scrunched my face up.

Moving my blanket out of the way, I got up and headed to the bathroom.

'Why don't you want me to get up? And what are you doing up?', I enquired as I started to brush my teeth.

Through the mirror, I could see an overwrought Jimin, fidgeting with his fingers, dressed in a comfy, striped, full-sleeved, blue shirt and lounge shorts. His hair was bedraggled, as though he ran his fingers through it a million times.

He looks cute.

'I was just um, on my way out.', Jimin said fiddling with his t-shirt, 'So I didn't want you to wake up as yet.'

'In your pajamas?'

'Uh. Yeah.', he shrugged.

'Okay.', I smiled, pushing him out of my way, 'I'll come with you. Just let me get dressed.'

As my feet stepped away from the cool, tiled floor of my bathroom and onto the warm herringbone flooring of my bedroom, they stopped in their tracks.

My nose twitched.

'Is there a fire?', I dreadfully asked Jimin.

His eyes went wide. I ran towards the kitchen with Jimin following me, trying to pull me back.

'Gajima! (Don't go!)', he yelled.

Too late.

Bags of groceries were laying around, a bunch of plates and bowls, strewn everywhere, the entire floor and island covered in flour, the sink was full of dirty dishes, but that wasn't the worst part- the pan on the stove smoked, whatever was inside, burnt to a crisp, filling the room with black fumes.

I ran, screaming, to turn off the stove and to open the window and main door.

In between coughs, I yelled at Jimin, 'WHAT DID YOU DO?'

Jimin scratched the back of his neck.

'I was trying to make breakfast in bed for you.'

What smoke?

Who's kitchen?

What's a breakfast?