Stronger || PJM

Ch4: Change Your Mind

Jimin comes back again the next day.

This time he doesn't wait, and takes out bandages that he found in the first aid kit back at home, tying them on his hands and wrists the way he sees in movies. He starts with throwing punches at the punching bag, but when minutes pass and he's breathing heavily, seeming to not go anywhere, he pulls out his phone and searches for videos to teach fighting.

It stays like that for a few days.

Sometimes Lee is there, sometimes she isn't. When she is, she ignores him and does her thing. It's as if he isn't even there. Occasionally Jimin would watch her throwing punches and dodging by herself. He stops whatever he's doing to carefully analyse her. Her arms, her legs, her feet, her back, her shoulders, all in perfect motion. Jimin wonders how she does that, looking cool and all.

When she isn't around, he goes back to his YouTube videos, hoping they would help. A week passes. The bullies stop hitting Jimin, which he is thankful for, But warry about at the same time. There's always this voice at the back of his head telling him they're planning something. They usually let go of one victim and move on quickly to the other because they get bored easily. But not Jimin. Never Jimin. And he knows it's because he fights back, and they see some sort of entertainment in it. They want to crash him down, until he can't fight back anymore, but that's not Jimin. Never Jimin.

"Hey, Lee," Jimin calls one day.

She pauses braiding her hair and looks up at him.

"You keep on calling me kid," He says, sitting down beside her, "But you don't look too old yourself. In fact, you look really young. How old are you?"

Lee glares at him, going back to her hair as she looks away. "None of your business, kid."

"I'm just curious," He says, stretching his arms as he stands up. "I'm not that young either. I'm a senior."

"Good for you."

Jimin sighs, knowing it's useless by now. With slow steps he heads to his bag and throws it over his shoulder, walking out.

"Goodbye, Lee." He waves a hand over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow."

He walks out and shuts the door, and Lee stays in place, looking at the door. He'll give up one day, she knows. He's just another highschooler who comes to mess around, and leaves once things start getting hard. Why should she put effort just for him to quit in the end? For him to be one of those who only fight because it's cool?

She scoffs and shakes her head, wondering how long he'll hold on until he gets bored and leaves. Her thoughts are confirmed when he doesn't come the next day. The metal door stays closed until late at night. No knocking, no little guy pulling it open while panting, no yelling "Good evening!"s once he walks in. No Jimin.

She hates to admit that for a second she thought he was different. The day they first met and his words made her consider helping him, but she couldn't give in at just that. After all, actions speak louder than words. He held on for a week, not much, but it's not too little for a weakling like him.

Confusion paints over Lee's face when the door opens the night after. Jimin closes the door back again after walking in, this time grunting more than usual. He smiles at her once he sees her in the fighting ring, placing his duffet bag on the bench.

"Good evening," He says like usual, pulling out his boxing gloves and sitting on the bench for a minute.

"Hey Lee," He adds.

She turns to him, hands on hips.

"What do you do if you think your ribs are broken?" He asks casually, putting on his gloves.

Lee squints her eyes, taking in his busted lip and heavily bruised cheek. There's a band-aid on his temple and dried blood on the bridge of his nose.

"Mrs.Kim isn't very happy," He says, "My dance instructor. Today I didn't do well at practice and with my performance in a month... "

He trails off, staring into blank space.

"Where were you yesterday?" She asks.

"I don't know." He shrugs. "Jeongyeon and his friends dragged me to some dark alley. I tried to throw punches at them but they dodged it easily and kicked my ass. It was night time already when I managed to go home. I didn't even go to dance practice. You know, it makes me feel like me coming here for the past week was utterly useless."

Jimin purses his lips, looking up at her. "And I think I broke a rib or two, I don't know. It was already bruised but they hit me again yesterday and it hurts so much I can barely walk."

Lee sighs, jumping out of the fighting ring and walking over to him. She stands in front of him, looking down at his beat up form.

"Show me," She says.

Jimin's eyebrows furrow. "What?"

"Your rib," She says, "Show me."

Jimin hesitates, but lifts up his shirt anyway. There's a bruise on his side, a mixture of purple and red. Lee scans it for a second or two before standing up straight and crossing her arms.

"You're a wussy," She says, turning around.

"What?" He puts his shirt down.

"Just how low is your pain tolerance?" She mutters under her breath, jumping back inside the fighting ring.

Jimin frowns, his hands settling on his lap.

"You'll be fine," She says, "It's not even broken. Just take some painkillers and apply ice packs. You should be fine in a few weeks, as long as you don't get hit in it again and break it."

"You're not a doctor."

"Neither are you," She replies, cracking her knuckles and stretching her neck, "But I've come across broken bones. Lots of that. I know a broken rib when I see one, and yours is merely fractured, so swallow some ibuprofen and get your ass in the ring."

Jimin freezes at her last sentence, his eyes widening.

"Are you serious?"

"Hurry before I change my mind."

Jimin grins, the pain somehow subsiding. He gulps down some painkillers from his bag and heads to the fighting ring, adrenaline rushing in his veins.