“Jimin?”

His hold around you tightens significantly, his head burrowing closer into your shoulder as his muffled voice speaks up.

“Please don’t speak… just stay like this for a while... Please..”

His voice is short of a whisper, barely audible and muffled by your shirt but still clear as day in your ears as you seal shut your lips and let him hold you close. You feel his fingers tremble as they curl into the material of your shirt, just like they had that day when he was leading you away from his ex.

You wonder if he’s crying, the tell-tale moistness that soaks through your shirt and meets the flesh of your back answers your question.

Eventually, he calms down, after several passing minutes of standing in the middle of the living room with your arms tight at your sides. You wouldn’t dare to move, listening to his deep breaths to calm himself and the thrumming of your heart that weeps for the broken boy behind you.

Without knowledge, you have no idea what war he’s fighting. You don’t have a clue what he’s been through and seen.

To pass the time, you count seconds, even sheeps, all the while praying that Jimin will be alright even if you know he isn’t. It must have taken a lot for someone as shielded and protected as Jimin is to break down in the presence of a girl.

No one has to say it for you to know right away that Jimin both fears and hates women. You’d never guess with the gentle way he still holds onto you. But you’d like to say that he has to have some kind of trust in you to be able to show his vulnerable side like this.

Soon enough, his arms loosen, lingering for that warmth and comfort for just a little longer before he reluctantly pulls away. You don't know if you should turn or stay rooted to the spot, waiting for a sign from Jimin that it's alright.

As if your wonders were heard, he grunts, tugging on your shirt hard enough to pull you. Turning, you find his head hung and orange bangs shielding you from seeing his tear-stricken face.

Your fingers twitch, there's a desire to touch him, in anyway to relay that you're there. Pat his head, squeeze his shoulder, take his hand in yours, even tilt his chin so you can lay your eyes on the being that is Park Jimin in one of his most rawest form you've ever seen - so broken down and yet beautiful, you'd never have guessed you'd be in this kind of situation when you first met him.

Maybe he’s expecting it, holding up his hand to halt your actions. He takes a few moments to collect his bearings, sniffling and wiping his face. You wait patiently, your eyes never leaving the crown of his head.

“Th… thank you,” he mutters, eyes never gaining the confidence to lift and meets yours, “We should get some sleep then… going to the precinct tomorrow…”

He stands, weakly and reluctantly, movements slow as if debating whether he wants to stay here in your company or continue alone and sleep it off. Slowly raising his head, he lets his dark eyes rise to meet yours for a split second before they fall.

“Good night Jimin,” you blurt out just as he brushes passed you, your heart flying to your throat when he stiffens before making a noise of acknowledgment and leaving.

“Good night…” he says once he’s inside his room, closing the door with a click and flopping onto his bed.

.

“I don’t understand how you men can stand to do such filthy work.”

His dark eyes glance up for a moment to catch the hazel of his sister’s orbs. The disgust twisting her baby-face as she observes his latest kill.

“Jungmi,” he greets as he stuffs the plastic bag of limbs into the washing machine, the eyes shoved into the compartment designated for the detergent and fabric softener.

She laughs, tapping her manicured nail on the cold metal of the machine, “I swear your hiding places keep getting weirder and weirder.”

He shrugs, bending down to retrieve all of his things this time, his punishment fresh in his memory and on his body.

“You won’t believe who I ran into while I was out,” she hums, the both of the them walking out of the apartment and heading towards the stairs.

“The persistent hook up from a few days ago?” he asks boredly, shoveling through his backpack for the fifth time to check if he had everything inside, “That guy doesn’t know when to stop does he? He could find a better at the nearest brothel anyways.”

She puffs out her cheeks, glaring at her brother heatedly, “Yah! Those es can’t be any better than I am?! And how would you know how good they are? Don’t tell me you’ve gone to one!?”

“Who knows,” he shrugs, slinging his arms through the straps of the bag and continuing down the flights of stairs until they’re both at the parking lot.

“I saw her.”

He freezes visibly for a brief second before he clears his throat and quickens his pace towards his car, “Her who? Please be specific noona.”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

Unlocking the back door of his car, he throws his bag onto the seat before slamming it shut, “I seriously don’t.”

He’s lying, he knows exactly who, especially after what their father hinted to him before he received his punishment.

“I also saw him.”

He laughs bitterly, getting into the driver’s seat while she gets into the passenger side.

“You know you’ve got to be a bit more specific when talking about people, noona.”

.

You didn’t get enough sleep as you hoped you would. How were you supposed to sleep when all you could think about was Jimin, and his trembling warmth wrapped around you? Perhaps once again, he’d build up his walls even higher than before once he lets you chip off a piece, just like he always does. One second you think you might actually be gaining his trust, breaking down the stereotype he’s created about women, but then the next second he’s pushing you away and retreating to repair that piece you broken off.

At breakfast, Taehyung is oblivious of the events of last night, awkwardly eating the breakfast you’ve made for them. Jimin on the other hand is silent, playing around with the food in his bowl, his face blank with no signs of the tears he shed last night.

The silence is torn by the ringing of Jimin’s cell, the man eagerly dropping his chopsticks in favor of the electronic. He blinks when he looks down at the caller ID and carefully places his ear to the receiver, “Hello?”

Taehyung and you both stop eating as the orange-haired male glances up at you, before nodding and responding into the phone with an okay, we’ll be there.

“It was Dr. Nam,” he says before you both can ask about the call, “He wants you to come in, to check your head I guess.”

He doesn’t meet your gaze, and maybe you’re a little too disappointed but you push the memories of last night aside and continue eating breakfast.

.

“Are you alright on your own?” Taehyung asks from the driver’s seat, pulling up to the front of the hospital to drop you off, “One of us could call in and go in with you.”

You shake your head, unclipping your seat belt and pushing open the car door, “I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t buy it, pretty much launching his phone at you, making you promise to call them or at least any of the guys to come pick you up when you’re finished.

You smile as