Word Count: 3,507

Chapter 6

Kimy(You) POV

Darkness. There's something that is so comforting about darkness. It's probably about the way that it's the only thing that will always be there to wrap around you.

            When I had out there was a point were even the darkness couldn't block out the commotion around me. I heard the voices around me as something of a whispers. Like all of the noise around me was being muted, the same went for all my other senses. Touch especially. I could feel the strange warmth of people as I was deposited from one person's arms to another.

            I recognized as Jimin's uncharacteristically panicked voice and Chihoon's calm deep voice as suddenly the warmth of arms that were cradling me to a chest, disappeared and were replaced by the softness of a mattress. But I didn't want the warmth to go away. I think I reached out for it again.

            But I don't know because then I returned to my silent darkness.

---

            I woke up to a massive headache, blinding morning light, and a familiar delicious warm pressed against my front. I slept on my side, my head cushioned against the creamy skin of Park Jimin's bare shoulder.

            I blinked, for a moment my head was still in the clouds but I noticed my gorgeous ex-boyfriend half- sleeping next to me. We were curled together, comfortably and I smiled sleepily. He slept on his back I was plastered to his side, almost splayed over his chest, with my palm resting on his torso rising and falling to his even breathing. Our legs were intertwined under the covers, sending shivers of pleasure through my body. I could feel his arm underneath my shoulders then curving around to close on my waist. My free hand was clasped by his, right above my stomach. His nose was in my hair.

            "My head." I murmured, there was a dull pounding in my head that made me want to shut my eyes and got back to sleep but then Jimin shifted underneath me. I looked up at him as his eyes fluttered open.

            "What are you doing in my bed?"

            Jimin chuckled, "Funny story." His voice is rough from sleep. "You were mewling around like a kitten and refused to let go of me." I groaned scooting away from the boy.

            "You're en kidding me."

            "Nope. And when I did manage to pry my hand away, you started my name." Jimin says, an evil look glittered in his eyes.

            "Oh god." I muttered, rolling on my back. My cheeks felt warm under Jimin's gaze. "Kill me."

            "Don't worry." Jimin murmurs, slipping closer to me, "I thought it was rather charming. It was also the only reason Chihoon let me sleep next to you."

            I snap my head towards him, "Sleep next to me? Is that how I woke up practically spooning you?" I ask sarcastically. Jimin smirks.

            "I WAS just going to sleep next to you but then you threw yourself on top of me."

            I grabbed a pillow, pressed it against my face, and screamed.

            A warm hand covered mine and moved the pillow from my face. Detachedly, I turned to look at Jimin who's smirk had widened into a lopsided smile.

            "I have no problem with you sleeping on top of me. No problems at all."

            I replaced the pillow and screamed once again.

            Throwing the covers off and pushing myself into a sitting position I was about to kick Jimin off my bed when a heavy wave of nausea rose in my throat. My vision swung again as Jimin went in and out of focus.

            Jerking myself out of his hold, I clamped a hand around my mouth and gazed around the room desperately. Finding the door to my bathroom I shoot off the bed and have the toliet seat up and am puking in a record time.

            "Whoa," and then Jimin is behind me, pulling my hair behind me and rubbing my back comfortingly. I clench my hands on the ceramic seat and wonder if I'm going to vomit again.

            "Maybe we should take you to the hospital," Jimin muses outloud. "You seem sick."

            "No , Sherlock." I snap back before another wave of nausea racks through my body and pushes against itself painfully. There's nothing left for me to throw up but I keep coughing until I'm struggling to breath.

            "Kimy," Jimin's voice is calm as he pulls me away from the toliet. He sets me on the tiled bathroom floor, propping me against the counter. My back knocks wood counter, stomach wont stop trying to throw itself up. I can't breath. My body siezes with panic.

            "Oh-god." I wheeze, tears are already forming in my eyes. In front of my, Jimin kneels down and puts a hand on both of my shoulders, forcing me to look at him.

            "Breathe," he orders, one of his hand reaches down to my stomach, rubbing small circles to release tension. Slowly, my coughing spell settles down and Jimin plops down crosslegged in front of me. I keep drawing oxygen down my lungs, just because I can. The pleasure of relief has begun to calm my nerves down along with the constant pressure of Jimin's hand on my knee.

            "Hit your head on the pavement pretty hard." Jimin answers, a flash of protectiveness appears in his eyes. A look that sends sparks racing from the pit of my stomach to my fingertips.

            "I remember that," I say, wrinkling my nose. "Did you get him?"

            "Yeah." he doesn't elaborate and I don't ask.

            After I'm sure I won't throw up again, I pull myself into a standing position and catch my reflection in the mirror.

            "I look ratchet." I mutter distractedly. My eyeliner and mascara are smeared below my eyes, making the bags under my eyes look massive. The wound near my temple is bandaged but a small trickle of dried blood escaped and has trailed down to my temple.

            "You look perfect," Jimin says offhandedly. I squint my eyes at him as he musses with his hair. I sigh.

            "Leave." I say and shove him towards the door, "I want to shower."

            "Would you like some-"

            "No. I would not like some help. Go make breakfast, you crazy bastard."

            Before I can slam the door shut on him, Jimin throws me a look over his shoulder.

            "I kind of love how you know what I'm going to say." and then he allows himself to be thrown out of the room. The lock clicks shut. I can hear Jimin's low laughter.

            .

            Shaking my loose of it's messy ponytail, I start the shower and pull the sliding door shut to avoid water getting all over the place. Waiting for the water to get warm, I begin to slip my clothes off, noting a rather large bruise on the side of my knee and my scraped hands.

            Cursing my stupidity as I stepped into the steam shower, I recalled the attack from the previous day. I didn't even get to see his face, but a burning annoyance in my stomach told me I wished I had.

            "I'm going to track that a-hole down," I mutter, wincing as the hot water stings against my cuts. I try to angle my head so that the least water hits my head wound. It gets soaked immediately. Hissing in pain my waterlogged bandage pressed down on my cut, I grab one of the hanging loofas and bar of soap.

            Agaisnt my will, my mind goes back to waking up in Jimin's arms. His scratchy morning voice that I've missed so much. His y sleepy smirk. My skin is heated because of the hot water, but just thinking about his arms around me makes a tingle trace up my body.

            "I hate him," I promise myself, reaching for shampoo. I rebotically go through my usual shower routine, so immersed in my thoughts that I'm half way through massaging an exfoliator when I realize that the stinging on my right temple is actually from my cut, not a headache.

            "." I mutter, scraping the goop off my face. Before I can do any more damage to my face, I rinse off everything in my hair and on my body then flick the water off. The steam inside the shower stall cushions my body as I stand there shivering, ringing as much water as I can from my hair.

            Stepping out of the shower, I focus on drying off and putting my clothes then give my hair a half-assed once over with a blow dryer. No longer able to stand it, I knot my hair up before wiping the perspiration off the mirror and peeling the bandage off my cut.

            Not too bad. It's more of a deep scrape then a cut, about half a centimeter in width it's glistening with beads of fresh blood. I need to replace the bandage so I pin my damp fringe back and exit my bathroom.

            The tempting smell of bacon sizzling has me padding straight for the kitchen. Jimin stands with his back to me, flipping on the stove. Next to him on the counter is my carton of eggs and a bowl serveral cut up vegetables. One of his hands is wrapped around the hanldle of the pan, the other holds a pair of steal chopsticks. His back stiffens slightly, letting me know he's aware of my presence.

            I'm about to walk up to him, when he turns around to face me, a y smirk on his face. I freeze. Like actually freeze, mid-step. His hand, the one holding the handle of the pan, is IN the dancing blue flame of the stove.

            "Holy ," I say with wide-eyes. I watch plastic handle of the pan as it begins melting around his hands. Hands that don't look like they're feeling any pain whatsoever.

            "What?" Jimin raises an eyebrow, turning his head to look at what I'm staring at.

            "." He slams the pan down onto the stove then lunges for the sink. I hurry over to him as he shoves his hand into a stream of water. I stare at hand.

            There isn't an evidence that it was previously roasting in a fire. In fact, it looks fine as Jimin shakes it out in the water. What. The. en. Alien. Babies.

            "What the hell." I murmur. I look from Jimin's to his face. For a second, his eyes glitter with uncertainty. Then,

            "Jesus, you scared me. I thought my hand was on fire." Jimin says, breathing out a laugh through his nose. He returns

            "You-" Jimin wrinkles his nose at me.

            "Relax. Oppa's fine."

            "You are NOT my oppa." I squint my eyes at him, unwillingly fall into his change of subject.

            "I'm older than you," he reminds me, returning to his station in front of the stove. Jimin snatches his chopsticks up.

            "Barely," I sniff, moving to steal a piece of already cooked bacon from the plate next to him.

            "Sure. I have born almost eleven months before you." He deadpans, turning to look at me for a second. This condescending-

            "WHATever." I snap, biting down on my piece of meat. My mouth floods with saliva and I have to stop the moan bubbling in my throat.

            "Grab the orange juice?" Jimin asks.

            "You grab your own damn orange juice." I say, moving to grab the orange juice. Jimin chuckles. I grab a glass from the dishwasher, intending to stay silent for the rest of breakfast.

            How had he managed this? Somehow his casual, warm actions had me acting like I wanted to be around. I watched him flip bacon as I poured myself a glass of OJ.

            It shouldn't be okay. I shouldn't be okay with him in my home. I shouldn't be okay with him acting like we had never broken up, like he hadn't put me through two months of being treated like trash, like he hadn't shattered my life into thousands of tiny shards when he disappeared.

            The last time Jimin had made breakfast for me like this was about a week before we broke up. It was one of the days when he decided he wanted to treat me like I was his girlfriend.

            "Baby, here." Jimin slipped an omelet expertly onto my plate. I smiled all the way up to my eyes.

            "Thanks," I said as he grabbed a ketchup bottle and drew a pattern over my omelet so that it covered the surface equally.

            "Enjoy," he moved away to dump the dirty kitchen utencils into the sink. My fork poised over my breakfast, waiting for my handsome boyfriend to return. The chair shifted softly as he slipped into his seat. We began eating, our eyes fixed on the TV. An American drama played through Netflix. Subtitles rolled at the bottom of the screen. Under the table, Jimin slipped his legs around mine, hooking his shins together so my legs are caged between his.

            He doesn't look away from the TV but his touch sends my heart skiding. Jimin hasn't bothered to touch me weeks.

            Later that day, his sour mood returned, but that bright morning had filled me with so much happiness that I kept telling myself it was worth it. Looking back at it, I can't believe I was such a flake.

            Our nasty breakup had be me through a lot of pain, but it made me realize that if a man couldn't treat his girlfriend right then it was the BOY who didn't deserve the girl.

            This thought only occurred to me of course, after I went through several stages of 'what did I do wrong?'

            And then there was the burning of the hand just a few minutes ago. I'm sure that I say the plastic of the pan handle start to melt.

            I'm about to interrogate Jimin about it when he speaks up.

            "Hey. I called Chihoon hyung when you were showering." Jimin tells me as slides the rest of the bacon onto a plate then grabs the bowl of mixed vegetables. He tosses them into the pan then adds sesame oil. The fragrant and familiar smell of the oil floats from the pan and invades me nose. I breath in deeply before responding.

            "He's okay with being called hyung?" I ask curiously.

            Jimin smirks as he begin stirring the searing the mixed veggies. "As long as I don't call him that to his face." I snort and take another bite of my bacon as he continues, "He's giving you the day off."

            "Wait. He's okay with you staying here with me. Alone?" I ask, surprise colors my voice.

            Jimin laughs through his nose then shoots me a naughty grin, "I never said I was staying, Kimy-ah. Are you saying you want me here?"

            I instantly curse myself for letting the words out of my mouth, "No." I reply, taking pride in my super intelligent response. Jimin laughs again, there's a teasing sound to his laugh that has one side of my lips curling up.

            "Well, I'm staying with you anyways."

---

"Kimy-ah," Jimin whines as he picks up another plate from the pile. I sit on the counter watching in a amusement as Jimin begins to scrub the dish. "Why am I doing this again?"

            We finished breakfast about two hours ago and since then, I've been ordering Jimin around with chores. He's vacuumed all the rooms, dusted and wipe every single flat surface, mopped my kitchen, and rearranged my refrigerator.

            I smirk, "You said that because I'm hurt, you'll do whatever I want you to." I remind him kicking my feet against the wooden cabinet doors underneath me giddily. "So your going to do some spring cleaning." Jimin sets the clean dish in the dish washer and picks another one up from the stack.

            Maybe twenty minutes ago I had removed all of my plates, bowls and eating utenciles and told him to wash them in a mixture of warm water, baking soda, and salt.

            I haven't had this much fun in awhile.

            "We're in the middle of winter!" He scoffs, "and why do you have some many plates? You live alone, goddamnit." I wrinkle my nose at his back.

            "Don't make me kick you out." I threaten.

            Jimin grumbles something incoherent but grabs another plate. Laughter spill from my mouth and I close a hand over it to try to hold it back, but I can't. He just looks so ridiculous, wearing a frilly pink apron and matching rubber gloves.

            He whirls around, splattering soapy water everywhere, "You're laughing at me." he accuse me, something glints in his eyes.

            "Yep," I cackle, tipping over slightly in laughter, "I can't-breath." I sputter. Jimin huffs and stalks up to me. I look down at him, tears of laughter form in my eyes as he glares up at me with those pink rubber gloves.

            "Oh god. I'm crying," I wheeze, wiping the tears away. Jimin pouts.

            "Stop it."

            "Pink suites you," I mock.

            "Shut up." Jimin mutters. He stands flush in front of me, the tips of my slippers touch his sweat pant clad thighs. His face is an image of annoyance but I can see a smile tugging at his lips.

            "Hurry and finish." I order after getting control of my giggles. "I have to go grocery shopping and I need you to drive me." And carry the bags.

            Jimin sniffs then turns back around to finish up the dishes.

            "I'm going to go change," I say, hopping of the counter and towards my room. Jimin grunts in response.

---

            The grocery store is pretty quiet compare to the usual crowded busy it is on weekends. I walk through every lit isle with Jimin trailing behind me, pushing the cart. I hum pleasantly as I toss several varieties of cereal into the cart.

            I look behind me to catch a glimpse of Jimin who is still sulking from this morning and the frilly apron. He changed into a pair of dark jeans and black hoodie. One of his converse clad feet is propped on the bottom of the cart, the other pushes him forward. His eyes linger on the passing cereal selection. He looks annoyingly handsome.

            "Yah, are you still sulking?" I ask, reaching to grab another brand of cereal. Jimin snorts.

            "I'm not a child." he huffs. I turns back to him and raise an eyebrow. He looks away.

            I open my mouth to more when I hear a familiar voice.

            "Kimy unnie?" I twist my head in the direction of the soft voice and just as I expect I see Jaemi, one of my middle school friends, being pushed towards me. She sits in a shopping cart, crosslegged with a case of ramen in her lap. Behind her a rather good-looking boy pushes the cart. A rather looking guy a recognize as- Daehyun? What the hell.

            "Jaemi-ah," I say with a large smile as Daehyun stiffen as the sight of me. She hasn't changed much since middle school, still the pretty and innocent girl with the massive heart. I walk up to them. Jaemi reaches over the cart and we share a brief hug. We'd been practically attached by the hip in middle school, mostly because she was the only girl who didn't hate me because I was so close to Jimin.

            I had lost her number about a year ago when I switched phones and I hadn't been able to track her down since.

            "It's so awesome to see you," She squeals happily. Jaemi looks behind me and see Jimin coming up behind me. "Still follows you around huh?" she whispers conspicuously. I scoff once before my eyes dart up to Daehyun.

            "Oh, this is my boyfriend Daehyun." she says and gives his sleeve a cute little tug. I nod slowly.

            "Nice to meet you," I say, obliging his silent plea to keep mouth shut.

            "Hey, Jaemi," Jimin greets finally reaching us. He smiles politely but I can tell he recognizes Daehyun too.

            "It's so great that you guys are still dating!" Jaemi's grin is infectious, "We have to go soon, but let's have a double-date sometime?"

            I open my mouth to tell her the news when Jimin speaks up, "Sure."

            Daehyun raises an eyebrows but one glare from me has him looking away.

            "Quick, give me your number!" Jaemi orders, pulling out her phone. As we quickly exchange numbers, Daehyun goes from uncomfortable to impatient.

            "Jaemi-ah, we have to go," he murmurs to his girlfriend. She nods in agreement but turns to me hesitantly.

            "Go," I say with a smile, ''I'll text you later."

            I watch them as Daehyun pushes her through the isle and around the corner, "I think I hit my head too hard." I mutter. "Was that-?"

            "Yeah," Jimin whistles in amazement.

            We're silent for a moment before I snap my fingers loudly, "Come on, Jimin. We haven't even gotten to the dairy section yet."

            "Kimyyyy."

A/N: Thank you for reading❤ Please subscribe and expect more chapter in the future❤