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To cry during a storm was a perfect way to hide the tears streaming down his cheeks. At least, that's what Jimin thought when he stood outside in the pouring rain for a few more minutes, before storming back in the building with June following him behind.
''Where are you going?'' Hands crossed and eyebrows raised, Namjoon asked the boy whose eyes didn't greet him back.
''Home.'' Harsh and stiff was the answer Jimin gave as he kept shoving his belongings down the bottom of a backpack.
''You're not going anywhere.'' Though Namjoon made a few intimidating steps forward, almost demanding Jimin to stay. ''Not before you get yourself cleaned up.''
Sniffling, Jimin straightened up his spine, throwing a glance on his sleeve damped in both blood and rain.
''There's a first aid kit in the storage room'', was Namjoon's said direction as he thumb-pointed at the old door behind him.
Dropping the things remained to be packed, Jimin walked inside the storage room, completely blind to the movement Namjoon just made - a simple nod of his head as a cue for June to go help the injured boy.
When her feet stepped forward, her body a stranger to the former numb feeling, she was soon inside the small dark room with a dim light hovering above her. Just right in front of her, on his tiptoes, Jimin was trying to reach the first aid kid laying on top of the many dust-covered wooden shelves.
As Jimin struggled to reach the plastic box, June couldn't help but cackle a little because her eyes saw the white box on a shelf below and that Jimin was reaching for nothing at all.
Aware of June's laughter, Jimin got the sudden need to defend his actions. ''It's not because I'm short, I swear. I've just been injured and I can't seem to reach that far.''
Before his mouth can defend him some more, June wiggled her way in front of him, picking up the kit situated in front of his own nose.
With no words being said, Jimin responded with his cheeks flushed in red. Once leaning against the shelves, he watched the girl's hands as they went on a search for probably a gauze, a disinfectant and some bandages to heal his still wounded forearm.
Meanwhile, Jimin grabbed the hem of his shirt and slowly took it off, the bulb above casting enough light around the edges of every muscle lining down his stomach.
With a lump in her throat, June's breath hitched. It wasn't because she saw bruises and scratches that were like soldiers, formed in a line so colorful and yet sinister. It was the bare chest completely covered in sweat that caught her off guard.
Jimin's breathing was shallow and she blushes, trying to avert her eyes.
