Addiction | Jimin ✓

Chapter Twenty Six

"Every moment I spent with you shined. Because the weather was good, because the weather was bad, because the weather was good enough. I loved every moment of it."

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26.
SICKLY SWEET

"I want you to meet my parents again."

I had ran through every possibility in my mind, but this wasn't what I expected Jimin to say. My eyes widened just a fraction at his words.

"You want me to meet your parents? Again?" I asked, an incredulous expression in my face.

He nodded, slowly.

"Ha ha. Very funny. Now stop joking. I'm not sure if I like your joke," I said.

"I'm not joking, Eun Hee. Why the hell would I joke?" He asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know. You tell me? 'Cause this certainly seems like a fucked up joke to me."

He let out a sigh. "Eun Hee. I'm serious. I want you to come to my parents' house again. Today."

I looked at him for a whole minute, trying to understand if he was in right state of mind.

"You do remember how they treated me last time. Right?" I asked.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

"Let me remind you because it seems like you've forgotten it. Your mother insinuated that I'm a whore, a gold digger, who sold herself just to date you. Rings a bell?" I stated.

I could see guilt swimming in his eyes.

"Look, Eun Hee. I'm sorry about that. But you have to understand this. I need you to go with me," he said, despair evident in his voice.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why what?" He asked, his brows furrowed.

"Why do you need me to go with you?"

"You wouldn't want to know. It's better if you don't know," he said, avoiding my gaze.

What are you hiding?

His mysteriousness was ticking me off. His vague answers irritating me. I wanted to know why he oh so desperately wanted me to go to his parents' house again, despite knowing that they had said hurtful things to me last time? They clearly didn't like me. Then why? Why did Jimin want me to meet them again?

"I won't go then," I said, leaning back on the chair, crossing my arms over my chest. "I won't go if you don't tell me the exact reason."

He was angry. This had been a normal thing while we talked. He said something, I got mad. I said something, he got angry. A cycle we kept running in. And I was, honestly, getting so tired of running in circles.

He craned his neck back, running a hand over his face. It was then I noticed something. A purple-red bruise on his neck. It was hidden by the collar of his shirt before, but now it was visible. And I felt a pang in my chest. I felt anger bubbling inside my veins. It seemed like he had been having some 'good' time when I called him. No wonder why his voice was so strained and raspy.