46 | Really, Really

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       I'm freaking in love with the plot of my gang au, but I gotta finish this series first~ I've got too many cool ideas, and not enough time to write them all! *pouts*


      Okay, on with the drama.


      Jimin can't quite place the feeling-- it's an odd sort of ache that he can't describe with words. It hovers in the corners of his sight and in the back of his chest; hesitant and dark. If he tried to explain it to someone else, all that would come out is a jumbled mess of words associated with a thousand different emotions, and none of them would be exactly right.

      Only experience can give someone true understanding of it-- of the sensation of emptiness. Of this feeling of longing.

      Jimin hates it. He hates the surging feeling in the pit of his stomach that appears when he looks around for her little face-- only to realize a second later that she's not here. He hates the sharp pain in his abdomen when he opens his mouth to tell her something-- only to realize that she's not here. He hates the desperate look in his own eyes when he stares in the mirror- worry bubbling in his gut like an incurable sickness. Because she's not here.

      Why do I feel like this? Jimin questions himself, helplessly searching for the explanation to his frantic emotions. Why do I feel as if the world is ending? It's not like she told me that she hated me, or that she's dying. She just left early because her friend had an emergency and needed her.

      But now she's at work with the boss that treats her like a lower class citizen. Jimin hates how even the thought of her being left alone with that man makes him shudder in horror. 

      She's probably fine- she isn't the one who had the accident, after all. But I can't help feeling that the longer she works there, the higher the chance that her situation will get worse. 

      The look on her face when the driver of the black SUV closed her door had sent chills down Jimin's spine. Her expression was lifeless, almost like a corpse. Pale cheeks and down-turned lips had given nothing away. But her eyes were a patchwork of worry, uncertainty, and fear.

      Jimin had had to physically restrain himself from sprinting over and gathering her into his arms- where she could be safe. Protected. Away from whatever it is that put that terror in her eyes.

      He hates the look of fear in her eyes more than anything else.

      Jimin knows Byeol-- knows her blunt way of solving disputes and timid avoidance of her own insecurities. He knows that she's not an easily affected person-- she watched the rap line viciously argue about the difference between composing and producing for two hours yesterday morning and she didn't bat an eye. And he knows that she wouldn't look that terrified if the only reason was because one of her friends had a minor accident. The fear in her eyes only further proves what Jimin suspects about her boss:

      He's a cruel, heartless man who should be fired immediately. 

      She's so strong; stronger that I give her credit for, but she's not infallible. Please, just let her be okay.

      Jimin's eyes burn as he stares down at his phone, squinting as he tries to focus on the bright screen. He didn't sleep a wink last night; his brain refusing to stop conjuring up as many worst-case-scenarios as it could think of. Yoongi, who is currently hunched over his cereal directly across the table from Jimin, hasn't fared any better. The older boy had tossed and turned next to Jimin all night, falling restlessly asleep for a few minutes only to snap awake with a jolt. Nightmares weren't something that Yoongi had often, but the frightened thrashing and distressed breathing of the pale rapper only made Jimin feel worse about the situation. 

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