Princess Princess - Jikook

Polite Society

Part Thirty-Five

Jimin wiggles his toes with in his shoes, feeling the soft strands of fuzzy socks grace his skin comfortably. He kept his head up high as he walked down the hallways of Jeju Academy, smiling at those who stared at him. No one made any comments - thankfully - but it was mostly due to being struck speechless by Jimin's appearance in the halls in the first place than anything else.

Honestly, if a unicorn walked in and threw up rainbows people would be too distracted by Jimin to notice. He tucked a stray piece of his blond bangs behind his ear, a small, almost secret smile lifting the edge of his pink lips. The sun outside soaked into his skin through the windows, hitting the light fabric of his Jeju Academy button up shirt. The uniform jacket was tucked underneath his arm, his thumb gently circling the end of it with each step taken forward. The clothes felt oddly freeing on his frame, the confines of his dresses were left hanging in his closet allowing his steps to become long and eager.

Jimin turned a corner and a freshmen with a mass of red hair waved his way, a friend at his side simply gaping. The blond boy's pushes his bangs back with a swift motion, causing his hair to ripple down. The movement exposes his adam's apple, elongating his throat. Jimin's eyes slide to the pair, a sort of gleam dancing with in them which made both boys blush darker than the freshmen's hair.

Good to know I can still muster up such a reaction, even out of princess dress, Jimin thought darkly, the humor falling dry in his mind. One of his hands found a spot to settle with in the pockets of his jeans. He tolled his shoulders back slightly as a senior passed him, almost daring the boy to say something to him. In fact, his steps almost fell into a more calm rhythm. Maybe it was to test if those online commenters had the courage to say their taunts to his face, or maybe because the simply could. He was in no hurry either way.

After having hid in his room for over a week he'd come to the conclusion that walking a couple extra seconds to his destination wouldn't hurt. Jimin wasn't exactly sure what everyone in the school imagined that he was doing in that room of his, but the crying stopped after the third day. The shaking after the fourth. And by the fifth he was able to get out of bed.

After that, Jimin began to sew. On and on, hour after hour, day after day. Because, he's realized something, something important, and pressing the material between his fingertips allowed an idea to mold with in his mind like a musician composing music. The boy had used fabrics from past dresses or the silk sheets on his bed to create his piece as a way to avoid having to confront actual human beings. Honestly he used just about anything he could get his hands on without having to leave the room.

Every now and then there would be a knock on his door, a voice echoing inside with concern. Sometimes, usually, it would be Jin's caring hum or Taehyung's low whisper. But, no matter the person, Jimin would shoo them away. By the seventh day of the week, he stopped responding all together and the visitors stopped coming. Maybe they figured Jimin needed his space or maybe they had given up on trying to pry his hermit shell open when the princess wasn't ready to let the outside light back in.

Jimin didn't get such sudden spark of energy out of no where, the all consuming determination to finishing his garment was fueled by a single moment. You see, one night Jimin was sitting at his vanity, scrolling through some comments people had posted under his school photo on their academy webpage. Seokjin was doing his best to delete them before Jimin could see, but there were just too many to keep track of to do so.

He knew he shouldn't tempt himself by reading them, nothing good could ever come from it, but Jimin couldn't help it. This was his body they were degrading. Were sexualizing. People weren't even attacking him as a person but instead manipulating his very existence into this sort of ploy. Hiding didn't help as the more days he spent away from the light, the better the warped image of him grew as there was no one to debunk it. Jimin's necklace almost cut his skin from how tight he had been holding it, his palm white.

Jungkook reached for Jimin's hand, cupping it before sliding the shorter's necklace with the two intertwined figure eights that are tilted to the side into his palm. He wrapped Jimin's fingers around it, kissing the top of his hand, before turning around - and walking away. It's funny, Jimin thought, how this necklace no longer feels mind even after you returned it to me. His eyes lowered, the dark lashes casting shadows in his reflection as his pale hand dropped down back to his side, letting go of the thin metal. He bit the inside of his cheek, breathing in a long breath through closed lips.

Jungkook.

Jimin's gaze flashed back to the blaring screen of comments, suddenly alert to the usernames of the individuals; hoping to find a certain coconut headed boy's. Instead, he was met with only more harassing comments. Some not even that creative. His chest falls.

Then. Someone knocked on his door. The sound was soft, the echo rolling off the walls and flooding into the room. The rhythm was

Jimin might not believe that there was much good in the world, but the bit that was left he felt almost guilty to be stolen by him that night. Because when his soul felt that it was ready, when this sort of peace just flooded over him, a voice came breaking through. It was deep and it was cracking - barely heard through the thick wall of his room. Jimin snapped his head at it, slowly - so slowly - making his way to his door, leaning against it to listen.

And he listened to every single word said.

Since that night, he sewed. He sewed until there was no more blood to prick by his needles and pins, until his back ached from cutting and placing the fabrics, until there was nothing but the repetitive movement of creating left to consume his thought. Jimin felt himself grin at the thought of the finished garment back in his room, knowing something no one else in the school did.

Which wasn't that Jimin isn't actually a virgin. But that's a story for another day.

Jimin rolled his shoulder back as he finally reached Seokjin's notorious office. The door to it was a dark black wood, standing out against the grey stones of the surrounding wall. He fixed his tie, jumping his blazer once before running a hand through his hair before knocking on the door.

Once.

Twice.

- "Jimin?" Seokjin said, a hopefulness dripping in each syllable. The man's eyes were wide as the heavy door swung open, a moment frozen to process who was in front of him before he reached out, pulling Jimin inside, and closing the door. He wrapped his frame around the younger, letting out a relieved breath that was bordering on shaking. "God Jimin, I was so worried-" he spoke into Jimin's hair before pulling away, looking the boy in the eyes. His stance suddenly going from a relaxed ease to a tighter frame. "Don't take this the wrong way, but what are you - what are you doing here?"

Jimin took a breath, reaching into his pocket of his mother's uniform for the metal of his mother's necklace. It felt cold against his fingertips. Foreign, almost. He hadn't wanted to wear it around his own neck, as that wasn't it's place anymore, but was too attached to it to simply leave it to rot under his pillow. The metal belonged to some else, and Jimin was going to do everything he could to ensure that it got back to them.

"Jin. I need a favor."

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A/N [from when I wrote this] - I want to write the next part but I have a long plane ride and the next parts will take some time to write, so idk if I want to write them now or wait...but that's two days of waiting and idk if I can....also I'm too scared to because I don't want this story to end

- Violette 🌷