Word Count: 4,905

Chapter 9

Kimy(You) POV

            “Let’s date again,” Jimin says. His voice is serious. His eyes are dark in the fluorescent lights. It’s sudden, without any warning, and a squint my eyes in suspicion.

            “No,” I deadpan.

            “Kimy, ever since I’ve returned can’t you see that I’ve been trying to get you back?” Jimin voice is low, his words hurried. My heart beat speeds up at his words. His eyes never leave mine.

            “Well if you wanted me back so badly you wouldn’t have left in the first place,” I hiss back.

            “That’s not fair, I-” Jimin cuts off, swallowing, He realizes my silent question.“I can’t tell you where I went Kimy.”

            “Why not?” I ask, knowing that I sound like a child, I have to resist the urge to stomp my foot. My breathing comes out rushed and in the background I can hear BTS cheering for someone’s new score.

            “Not yet,” for a second Jimin looks tired. Completely exhausted like he’s been carrying a lot of emotional baggage, “I won’t let it ruin everything.”

            “Let what-? Oh my god, you knocked someone up didn’t you!” I almost shriek. Jimin’s eyes widen in astonishment.

            “Jesus, no,” Jimin denies with a disgusted face, “I havn’t been with anyone but you. I swear.” He declares.

            “That’s cute, Jimin, really. But why can’t you tell me where you’ve been?”

            “I just can’t,” his hands curl into light fists, “But what I can tell you is that I’ve missed you so much these past few months. I really just…” He trails off.

            I grit my teeth in anger. Everything that just came out of Jimin’s mouth doesn’t make sense. He wants me back, but he won’t trust me with his story from the past few months. What does he think he can just hide everything that he’s disappeared to do and try and charm his way back into his previous boyfriend status.

            No way.

            “You are unbelievable,” I mutter. Jimin wears the ghost of a smile, almost regretfully and suddenly the ridiculous of the entire situation makes itself clear.

            I was contemplating his question. In my head, unaware of it, I was running over his words. Let’s date again. My body wanted Park Jimin, my subconscious wanted Park Jimin, the fast paced rhythm of my heartbeat whenever he was nearby let me know that my heart wanted him too. By my brain, the more responsible part of me knew that by taking him back I was disregarding  all the pain and torture he had put me and my brother through the few months before he disappeared and while he was gone.

            I wasn’t a flake, I could handle myself.

            I pulled my big girl on and stood up. Jimin’s eyes followed me, questioningly and unsure.

            Mustering my best placid smile I brushed off all his words, his confession, our previous argument.

            “I’m still going to win,” I say, “It doesn’t matter what they taught you in hooligan-land or where ever the hell you went. I’m still the better bowler.”

            For those of you who are wondering, I did end up winning. But it was so goddamn close that I’m contemplating taking a few tune up classes.

            “I lost,” Jimin muttered forlornly examining his chicken. I grin triumphantly. BTS and I sat around the table, our game was over and we began cramming ourselves with fried chicken.

            “Yep,” I say proudly and grab another piece of chicken. V pokes Jimin’s arm.

            “What was the agreement?” he asked, chewing cutely.

            “Park Jimin, as my work horse, for an entire day,” I announce. Suga, J-Hope, Jungkook and Rap Monster holler their approval. I delicately take a sip of my drink.

            “Thank you, thank you,” I say acknowledging their applause. Jimin grumbles.

            “What are you going to make him do? Tomorrow’s Sunday, you have virtually twenty-four hours to order him around.” Jin asks curiously.

            “I’m going shopping,” I state. Jimin buries his head into Jungkook’s shoulder, pitifully.

            I like shopping, and even though I don’t shop much, when I do I always spend a lot.. When we were dating, Jimin would always dread shopping dates because they somehow managed to turn into shopping sprees with a cold neglected Jimin carrying the bags. In more cases than I’d like to say I end up dropping of shopping bags in Jimin’s car then going back for another round.

            Jungkook pats Jimin on the back comfortingly then grabs another piece of chicken.

            We joke around for another hour or so, finishing our huge meals and cleaning up. We go separate ways after that. Jimin and I head to our apartment while the rest of BTS claim they want to hit a grab their things from the training room.

            “Goodnight, noona!” The last thing I see is Jungkook’s fluffy hair disappear around the corner.

            I laugh through my nose, then stuff my hands into my pockets.

            Now that we aren’t protected by the heater in the bowling alley, it’s frigid cold. Jimin walk next to for a few minutes, silently, probably nursing his ego. I jog slightly in place to keep my blood flowing.

            Jimin looks up me and sighs. Peeling off his hoodie, he offers it to me.

            “Here,”

            I stare down at the hoodie before looking up at him, “What the heck Jimin. You’re always complaining about how cold you are.”

            “I just want to hold your hand,” Jimin say honestly, “You know that I’m always warm.”

            It was true, Jimin could be walking heater. Heat seemed to radiate off his body sometimes.

            I don’t move. Jimin turns, his hand and hoodie still outstretched. Before I can take the hoodie from him, Jimin seems to notice something behind me.

His eyes widen and the smirk fades a little from his face. He looks almost panicked. I turn curiously, but before I can see anything Jimin exhales nosily then pulls the body of the hoodie around me. He grasps the empty sleeves of the hoodie and begins to tow me forward like a donkey or something.

            “What’s wrong?” I question, struggling to keep pace as Jimin suddenly speeds up. He’s almost running now as he hurries to the nearest convenience store.

            “What’s wrong?” I repeat as he yanks me inside and the door shuts behind us. The woman behind the cash register attempts to greet us but Jimin glances behind his shoulder again, at something behind me then pulls me farther into the store.

            “Jimin-ah,” I protest as I almost trip over a display of peaches.

            He pulls me into the snack aisle, the one farthest from the front door. He draws me close to his chest, hoodie forgotten, and for a moment we just stand there. He breaths heavily, his heart beating wildly in his chest and for a second I allowed myself to toy with the idea that Jimin was scared.

            “Just, wait for a moment,” his voice is as rough as his breathing. He rests a palm on the back of my head and presses my face into his neck. I let him, without saying anything. Something had obviously freaked Jimin out and if anyone could jerk Jimin out of his uncaring, condescending attitude I wasn’t sure I wanted to meet it.

            Everything is silent. I shut my eyes and listen as Jimin’s heartbeat as it returns to normal.

            The doorbell at the front door jingles, the woman the front begins her greeting.

            “Welcome, may I help-” She cuts off with a gasp of surprise. Jimin’s hands tighten on my forearms and I feel his mouth move, like as if in a silent prayer or something.

            “Jimin?” I warn. I can hear the slow pounding thumps of booted footsteps. I count at least four separate footsteps.

            Jimin shifts and I feel him swallow. I stared up at Jimin, he looked anxious darting his eyes around the store. I felt him tense up as the people drew closer. He doesn’t want to be seen. Even though I had no idea who it was Jimin was hiding from, I wouldn’t stand there motionlessly and not help.

            Without thinking I reached my arms up around Jimin and pressed my lips against his. It wasn’t a pretty kiss, it was hurried and rushed as I moved a surprised Jimin against a wall, positioning myself to cover as much of Jimin as I could.

            I placed both my hands flat on either sides of Jimin’s torso and tip toed to cover more of his face. Jimin slowly understood what was happening and slouched even lower on the wall. I stayed frozen, my mouth firmly pressed against his.

            I tried to ignore my racing heart. I wasn’t sure if it was because I had practically pinned Jimin against a wall, or the enclosing footsteps of the men.

            “What the hell?” a voice called. The people had reached our aisle, I could feel their weighted gazes. In response, I titled my head and opened my mouth.

            “Ew,” one of the voices, male again younger, winced, “Let’s just go.”

            “Yeah…” a female voice this time. They turned away.

            We almost got away with our little act before I heard another pair of feet storm up to us, lighter and slower, but definitely in our direction.

            “Damn couples,” who I’m guessing is the manager squawks “Get the hell off my wall.” His fist closes down on my upper arm and I tighten my hold on Jimin’s biceps.

            “, , ,” I hiss against Jimin’s mouth as I’m yanked away. I stumble back a few steps and regain my footing. I turn in absolute horrification in the direction of the people we were avoiding. Dressed completely in a murky blood red, their faces are masked by bandanas and hats. They all carry something to beat us with.

            The manager seems to notice the tension between us and halts his movements. He glances at the red clothed people and takes several steps back.

            I turn to look at Jimin. His face is completely closed off; his mouth is set in a grim hard line.

            “Park Jimin,” one of the taller one drawls. He hefts his baseball bat onto his shoulder and inclines his head at Jimin. He turns his eyes in my direction, “And who is this? You’re girlfriend?”

            Jimin doesn’t answer his question, “What do you want?” he spits. I take small steps towards him, glancing around I note exits and possible escape strategies.

            “We need you to come back with us,” a shorter, stockier looking one says. “Without fighting preferably.”

            Jimin arches an eyebrow, “Afraid of me?”

            “Think about it, Jimin-ssi, you can’t protect your girlfriend against all four of us,” this time it’s a woman’s voice. Acid and spitting, she stares between us in almost jealousy. She knew his name, was she involved in his activities during his disappearance?

            With one arm, Jimin sweeps me partly behind him before resting it on my wrist.

            They don’t know he seems to say as he gently squeezes my wrist, that you can fight.

            I immediately let out a small whimper and clench his arm with both my hands. I could act this out too. Knowing Jimin he would try and talk his way out of it before resulting to fighting, and until then I’m guessing I was to play the damsel in distress to put them to ease. And then I would kick their asses.

            My previous plan of action is tossed aside as Jimin strides up to the one who spoke first and sunk his fist into his face.

---

“So are you going to tell me why I just helped you beat your buddies up?” I ask as I begin wrapping up my scraped knuckles. We’re back at home, my apartment, standing in the kitchen patching up our wounds.

                “They’re not my buddies,” Jimin snarls. Ever since returning he’s been on the edge. I blink at his harshness and return back to the task at hand.

                “I’m sorry Kimy,” Jimin sighs after a moment, “That I snapped at you. Thank you for all that you did.”

                “Its fine,” my voice is clipped.

                Jimin winces, “I’m sorry.”

                We’re silent for a moment and I’m dying to question him, but I just snap the first aid kid shut and place it back in the medicine cabinet.

                “If you ever see them again, please tell me,” Jimin almost sounds tired. I turn to look at him in surprise. What was this with all the ‘please’ and ‘I’m sorry’? Jimin stares down at his wrist. He rolls it then shakes it out, a pained expression on his face. “If they ever try to contact you or threaten you, please tell me.”

                Seeing him so completely exhausted tugged at my heart. Something was killing him from the inside, something he wanted to keep to himself. I had no idea why, but because I’ve known Park Jimin for almost all my life I have a feeling he’s trying to be a hero.

                Stepping forward I grab Jimin’s hand, his left hand that he said was sprained. Jimin watches as I face it upwards and rest my thumbs on his wrist. I begin to massage small circles on his palm and up to mid forearm.

                I’ll drop it, the entire confrontation, I decided. For now that was. Jimin looked like he wanted a hug, but he held himself away from me carefully as I handed his hand back to him. The tips of my fingers tingled from our contact. We were standing close together, he leaned on the kitchen counter, and I stood flush in front of him.

                Before my brain could convince me not to, I slowly slid my arms around his torso and grabbed two handfuls of his sweatshirt, effectively pulling him into a hug. He was warm against my body; he stiffened in surprise before relaxing into my arms.

                “I don’t know what’s going on,” I say a little muffled by his clothes, “but I better be hugging you for a good reason.”

                “You are,” Jimin murmured into my hair.

                I step back after a few moments and placed my hands on my hips, “Well I suggest that you get some rest Park Jimin. Tomorrow I’m going to work you down to the bone.”

                Jimin smirks, a smirk that returns his features from troubled to trouble.

                “Promise?” he asks.

                “Good night, Jimin,” I say firmly and head to my room.

                “Good night.”

---

                “Damn it, Kimy-ah, they’re just shoes!” Jimin shrieked for at least the third time. And for the third time I snapped back,

                “And you just my manservant, so shut up and wait patiently. I think they have this in my size.”

                We were in a clothing boutique, Jimin sat on one of the couches surrounded by bags of my previous purchases. He slumped against the backrest as the kind store worker brought him a second serving of tea.

                “Kimyyy,” Jimin whined as I stared between two pairs of shoes that adorned my feet. They were both so beautiful; I could barely choose between them. Shrugging I walked up to the woman working behind the counter and told her I wanted both.

                As she wrapped up my new sneakers, Jimin grabbed the tea cup set in front of him and drowned it completely. Sighing in annoyance he hung his head and began to whimper.

                “You’re boyfriend is quite adorable,” the woman said as she placed both the shoe boxes in a bag.

                “Man servant,” I corrected easily as I accept the bag and my credit card back.

                “What?” She blinked at me. I grinned.

                “He’s my manservant,” I said once more then thanked her and strode up to Jimin. Admittedly he did look like cute, sitting there mewling like a kitten. I placed my hand on his head and crouched to his eyelevel.

                “Aw, is little Jiminie angry?” I cooed and poked his scrunched up nose. Jimin shook his head and my hand slipped off the top of it. Jimin gathered up the bags resignedly and followed me outside.

                “I think that’s enough shopping for today,” I say stretching my arms out and breathing in deeply. I’m suddenly pounced on by Jimin as he drops all of my shopping bags and catches me up into his arms.

                “Really?” He cries, absolutely ecstatic. People around us begin to stare and whisper as he spins us around like we’re the cast of some cheesy romance movie. I raise an eyebrow down at Jimin.

                “You’re not off the hook, Park Jimin; you’re still my man servant for today,” I remind him with a look and slide down his body and back to my feet.

Jimin’s grin is dirty. “Would you stop saying ‘man servant’? I prefer entrepreneur of your pleasure.” He literally purrs sneaking closer to me. With a small smile I rise up onto my toes and slink even closer to him. Jimin seems surprised but doesn’t say anything and certainly doesn’t say anything.

We’re centimeters away from each other.

“Get the bags, Jimin,” I whisper then jerk away, laughing. I sauntered away and left Jimin scrabbling (and cursing) as he collected the bags.

---

The trunk of Jimin’s car slammed shut as he put the shopping bags away. I stood waiting slightly off to side in front of the passenger side door. I was being such a princess but I guess I was enjoying Jimin doing all the work. When we were dating he used to try and do everything for me.

At that thought, I shot a hand forward and opened the door myself. Sliding inside his cold car and I slammed the door harder than was required. I was pissed for some unknown reason.

“Now where, miss?” Jimin says and he slips inside the driver’s seat. He turns to me with a lopsided smile.

I stayed silent, staring at the straight ahead with narrowed eyes. Jimin sighs, sensing my anger.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asks pulling out of the lot and starting through the maze of cars.

What’s wrong was that even after I agreed with myself that I wouldn’t even look at him, I couldn’t get enough of Jimin. He was with me every second of the day and I still hadn’t gotten sick of his unnecessary skinship or whenever he voices his dirty thoughts. They were annoying, yes, but each touch managed to get my heart racing.

“Screw this, take me home,” I order and turn my face. I don’t catch his face but I imagine his surprise. My mood swing was massive but I had to get away from Jimin before I lost my mind.

Jimin POV

                I wonder what I had done this time. As I drove back to our apartment, I kept stealing glances at Kimy’s turned figure. I could only see the edge of her jaw and pretty pink lips, but they were set angrily.

                I had managed to piss her off somehow. I clenched the steering wheel and bit down on my lip. How was it possible that I annoyed her in the two minutes I took to put away her bags?

                I returned my eyes to the road and noticed a familiar brightly colored frozen yogurt. Smiley’s was a place we had always gone together when was kids and our first date. I remember that she was so adorable and nervous at first she almost slipped on the ice that was caked outside.

                I chuckled as Kimy straightened her shirt and threw the door open. Her face was flushed brightly.

                “Stop laughing.” She ordered grabbing my forearm and pulling me through front door. The kind old woman who owned the store greeted us warmly; we came here so often she knew us by name.

                “Welcome,” she bowed slightly. Kimy bounced forward to talk to the woman while I examined the store. It was loud and obnoxious with neon colors, large stuffed animals with small tables and a few booths in the back.

                “Kimy-ah,” I called and she returned to me instantly, looping her arm through mine as we walked to the self serves stations. Sweet cold frozen yogurt and sherbet dripped out of the spouts. I looked down at where our arms were linked. When we were little kids we would link arms and hold hands, but back then it used to symbolize friendship. Now our contact symbolized something else. My heart seemed to explode in my chest and my girlfriend began to read the labels out loud like she always did before deciding the flavor she wanted.

                She was mine.

                I slammed on the brakes and several cars blasted their horns in complaint. I waved in apology and turned into Smiley’s. We stopped going together a year back when we first started having relationship problems.

                Next to me, Kimy rubbed the back of her neck. “What the hell, Jimin. Where the hell are we going?” She looks up as I park in the first available lot.

                “What are we doing here?” her voce isn’t harsh or questioning. She just seems curious.

                I pull my keys out of ignition and unlock the doors. “Come on.” I say and exit. Kimy watches me as a jog around the front of the car and open her door for her. She doesn’t move, instead stares outside at the yogurt place.

                “Come on,” I repeat and offer her my hand. Kimy ignores my hand and steps outside herself.

                Silently, with Kimy walking right behind me, I head up the steps and open the door.

                “Hello,” the same old woman greets us. Her eyes light up in recognition as we both come into view. Kimy smiles largely and accepts the woman’s tight hug.

                “I haven’t seen you two in ages,” she cries wrapping me in a hug of my own. I hug her back and she pulls away from both of us.

                “How are you, Kimy-ah?” The woman and Kimy begin talking and I start to tune out, focusing my attention on Kimy. Her beautiful face is lights up, her smile genuine and creates crescents of her eyes. I used to pride myself in being able to make her smile like that, pure happiness or laughter; nowadays I’m thankful whenever she smiles at me in general.

                The woman’s sharp eye notices Kimy’s hand as she raises to tuck back some of her hair.

                “You’re not wearing you ring anymore,” she says worriedly. Kimy and I exchange a quick glance and I stuff my own hand into my pocket. The woman’s talking about our promise rings; I had gotten them a few months before our relationship problems began. Kimy never took hers off, which I was completely fine with me. It let everyone know that she was taken.

                With one glance, I could tell that Kimy didn’t want to disappoint the kind old woman, who said once that she saw our relationship as something she wished she had had with her late husband.

                “She left it back home,” I say smoothly slipping a hand around the strap of her purse like I used to. “She was washing the dishes.”

                The older woman smiled in understanding and motioned at the self serve stations, “Please help yourselves. On the house.”

                We nod in thanks before I lead Kimy to the frozen yogurt. We stand in front of the yogurt station, beside me Kimy snakes a hand through the crook of my arm and rests it on my bicep. I grin.

                “You knew,” she accuses me causally under her breath.

                “Knew what?” I ask innocently. The warm weight of Kimy’s hand wrapped around arm gives me a nice heady feeling that I definitely like.

                “You know exactly what,” Kimy hisses obvious meaning the fact that Kimy wanted to please the woman with our “successful” relationship.

                “Maybe I did,” I say grabbing two paper cups and handing her one.

                “You’re supposed to do whatever I say,” Kimy says matter-a-factly, “Why did you suddenly decide to come here?”

                “It’s not too late,” I say stooping down whisper into her ear, “We can camp out in the backseat of my car and do whatever you want me to do.” I offer, dirty thoughts running around in my mind.

                Kimy jerks away, looking absolutely flustered, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

                “Don’t be shy,” I say offhandedly as I reach forward to grab some mango flavored yogurt, “It’s nothing we haven’t done.”

                Kimy yanks her hand away from my arm and slaps my forearm. “Shut up, Jimin!” She grumbles and turns away to keep me from seeing the blush that’s already spilled onto her cheeks. I grin and pull my heaping bowl of a collection of different flavors.

                “Aw, is Kimy baby angry,” I coo. Kimy flashes around, her bowl full of her chosen flavor and glares at me. She breathes, trying to calm herself down and heads towards the toppings section. I hurry behind her and slip an arm around her waist. My thumb accidently or not, slips under the fabric of her shirt and she just at the sudden contact.

                “You look like a kitten,” I guffaw, trying to suppress my amusement. It doesn’t matter how many times I touch her, she always jumps a little. I’m wiping a tear away from the corner of my eye when I suddenly feel a small hand close around my wrist.

                “Whoa,” I say in complete surprise as I’m wrenched from my spot standing next to Kimy. Suddenly I’m crushed against the counter that houses the toppings. The counter digs into my waist, but I don’t care because Kimy’s on the other side of me. Her entire front is pressed against mine, sending my hormones crazy. She's warm and soft and I’m not anymore.

                I stare down at Kimy. She raises an eyebrow, completely pokerfaced.

                “Don’t be shy,” she says smashing certain parts of our body together. My blood goes hot. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before.” She mimics my words from earlier.

                I swore under my breath wanting to press even closer. Kimy graces me with a wicked smirk before she pulls away and grabs her bowl of frozen yogurt. She walks away without another word and sits down in our usual booth.

                My own bowl of yogurt sits next to my hand, forgotten as I lean heavily against the counter digging my hand through my hair.

                Damn it. She always has the upper hand because I’m completely under her spell.

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