The first night after the breakup I spent alone in my bathtub. Sad indie music played until the earliest hours of the morning. My tears intermingled with the bathwater and I had to keep a box of tissues handy so I could blow my nose without getting dirty. I felt like a sad, pathetic mess. Jimin had left and I couldn’t even think of a reason why he should come back to someone like me.

My skin was pruny beyond measure by the time I pulled myself out of the tub. I wrapped myself in a towel and climbed into bed without even bothering to dry off properly. Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks as I remembered a silly conversation Jimin and I had had some time before about sleeping in proper clothes. Now he wasn’t here to lecture me about my health, my cooking, and my clothing choices.

Now he wasn’t here to love me.

Jimin hadn’t packed up all of his belongings yet so I lay on his side of the bed and breathed in the last vestiges of his scent.

 “Jimin…” I sobbed into his pillow. “Jimin, please come back. I’m sorry. Please come back, please. Please come back…”

I hiccupped with sobs, unable to hold in my misery. I fell asleep like that, not even bothering to cover myself.

The early morning sun slanting through the window splayed across my face and pulled me from my fitful sleep.

I rubbed my swollen eyes and sat up. A blanket slid off of me. I still wasn’t dressed, but I must have instinctively covered myself during the night. Yukon lay at my feet, snoring contendedly. I closed my eyes as the memories of last night flooded back to me.

Jimin and I had broken up.

The tears started again with that one sleepy realization. I decided that there was no point in getting up and lay back down again. I pulled the covers up over my head and cried within their protective boundaries.

I had always been the type of person to shake off a breakup. It would bring me down and I'd cry for a while, but then I'd go out and find someone new or have fun being single.

But I'd never fallen in love, real love, before Jimin. I couldn't conquer this breakup so easily. I felt like a lead weight was pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I spent the next three hours lying awake in bed. The persistent regretful thoughts kept tormenting me.

“What if I had just said yes to his proposal? But I still don’t want to get married right now. But what if I had said yes, one day I want to marry you, but not right now?”

“But do I really feel that way? Do I really want to marry Jimin? But Jimin knows I'd never wanted to get married. He's always known, so why is he acting like it's such a big surprise?”

“What if Jimin is right? What if I don’t trust him? What if I don’t really want to be with him?”

“But I do want to be with him. Of course I want to be with him; I love him. I miss his kisses and his hugs and the way he always rests his forehead against mine. I love the way he stares at me when he’s trying to fall asleep because he says that I’m the last thing he wants to see before he dreams. I love our inside jokes and our competitions and how he shares his clothes with me. I love his giggle and his eye-smile and all the embarrassing stories his mom has told me. I miss his body and the way it went together with mine. I miss his hands, his cute small hands, and how gently he always held me. I miss the way we cuddled after sleeping together. I just miss everything about him and who we were together.”

I sighed and wiped the tears from my eyes. No amount of missing was going to bring Jimin back.

I closed my eyes and tried to fall back asleep.

I awakened again as the sun’s rays once again streamed through my window. Was it really already sunset?

I threw the blanket off and stumbled over to my dresser. I felt hungover, but I knew my face probably looked worse than it did after a night of heavy drinking. I rummaged through the drawers and pulled on an old sweatshirt of Jimin’s and a pair of his boxers. If I was going to wallow all day, I was going to do it well.

I pulled the hood over my head and breathed in his scent. He smelled like AXE cologne (as most guys his age did) and face wash.

Face wash, huh. I headed over to the bathroom to tidy myself up slightly. Yukon followed me, whining and running around my ankles, begging for food. I didn’t even bother to glance in the mirror; I knew my eyes were swollen and my hair was a tangled mess. Probably I had some curls sticking straight out of my head from sleeping with wet hair. 

I sneezed. Great, was I catching a cold because of last night? I needed something hot to warm me up.

I wandered into the kitchen and examined the contents of the fridge. Jimin had made a week’s worth of food because he had a busy schedule this week. All of this food would go to waste now because he wasn’t going to come home and eat it.

Sighing sadly, I pulled out a container of kimchi fried rice. It didn’t taste so delicious the next day, but Jimin’s kimchi bokkeumbap was one of my favorite meals.

I heated it in the microwave because I felt too apathetic to warm it in a pan. Jimin wouldn’t have been pleased, but I decided not to care and filled Yukon's bowl with food. He my hand, noticing that I felt sad.

As I waited for my food, I picked up my phone from the coffee table and checked to see if there were any texts from Jimin.

Jimin’s smiling face greeted me as my phone came to life. Tears came into my eyes. “Stupid lock screen,” I thought as I angrily brushed them away.

The passcode on my phone was Jimin’s birthday. I didn’t know how to change it, so every time I wanted to use my phone I would be reminded of our breakup.

The wallpaper was a picture of him kissing my cheek while I scrunched up my face. We were adorable and I wanted to smash my phone into a million little pieces.

I checked my text messages. Nothing from Jimin.

I logged onto Facebook. There were no notifications or messages from him.

I even checked my email. I knew there would be nothing, but I still felt my heart sink when it turned out to be true.

The microwave beeped, but I ignored it and lay on the floor instead. I buried my face in the carpet and Yukon came and laid down next to me, nudging his head against my hand. The carpet was old and gross and still had some traces of cat hair from the kitten Jimin surprised me with one time. He didn’t know I had an allergy and I spent the rest of the night sneezing and itching, but I fell in love with that little kitten. I cried when he gave her to my little sister the next day. He said that he couldn’t handle seeing me be so miserable because of his mistake. The kitten had grown up nicely at my sister’s house, though.

I lay on the floor for some time, wondering if it was too early to go back to bed. I didn’t even care what I did. I just didn’t want to think about Jimin anymore. It hurt too deeply.

Of course I was still in love with him. That sort of thing wouldn't change in a day. But he didn’t want to be with me anymore. I couldn’t do anything to change his mind.

I rolled over and faced the kitchen table, spying a bottle of wine. A brilliant idea struck me. Getting drunk was one way to forget about Jimin; a few glasses of wine should do the trick.

I got out a wineglass and filled it to the brim with some white wine. Dinner be damned; I planned on getting drunk and falling asleep wherever. Jimin wasn’t here to scold me. No one cared if I had too much to drink anymore.

I chugged the first glass of wine in one shot. I wanted to get drunk fast and quickly forget about Jimin.

After the third glass of wine, I felt pretty far gone. I hadn’t eaten all day, so there was no food in my stomach to damper the effect of the alcohol. I was still thinking about Jimin, so I decided to pour myself another glass of wine.

My phone started to buzz. I fumbled to answer without bothering to see who was calling.

“Hello?” I answered, trying to sound sober. “Who is this? Who’s calling my phone?”

So much for not sounding like a drunk.

“It’s me," a familiar voice replied. “Jimin," he clarified, after I didn’t respond for a while.

“Oh, Jiminieeee…you’re calling? How are yooou? It’s been so long. Everything smells like you and I’m really sad.” I punctuated my foolish speech with a sad sigh.

“Are you drunk?” Jimin asked. Was it me or did he sound concerned?

“No! No. I’m not drunk. You're drunk," I bluffed. Very smooth.

“Okay, where are you?” Jimin demanded.

“I’m at home. Where do you think I am, idiot?” I slammed my fist on the table. “This is where I live, shouldn’t I be here? You used to live here, but now you don’t, because you left me.”

“Okay, I’m coming over,” Jimin decided. I could hear some rustling in the background. “Don’t drink anymore, please. And don’t do anything stupid.”

“ you, Jimin! I’ll drink as much as I damn well please. And you can’t stop me.” I took another sip in defiance.

“Baby, just relax. I’ll be over in a minute. Please call me if you need me,” Jimin said soothingly.

“Don’t call me baby. I’m not your baby anymore,” I slurred angrily and abruptly hung up the phone.

After I finished my fourth glass of wine, I poured another. If Jimin didn’t want me to do it, then I would do it.

I tried to get up and go to the bathroom, but the room spun and I felt sick. I decided sitting on the floor would be a good idea. I rested my head against the table leg and closed my eyes. The wood felt cool against my cheek and I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself.

“You can do it," I whispered to myself. “You can get up and go pee.”

I tried to stand again, but fell on my . “Okay, maybe you can’t. Let’s crawl.”

I crawled to the bathroom and somehow managed to do my business and make it out of there alive.

 I made my way back to the table on my feet, but I stumbled pretty frequently. I sat down and put my head on the tabletop, too tired and too drunk to sit up properly.

I heard a tsking sound behind me.

“What a mess you are,” Jimin said as he came up behind me and rubbed my back. “Why are you acting like this? Hmm? Why are you drinking so much?”

“Shurrup,” I slurred. “I don’t wanna hear these things from you.”

Jimin was quiet for a moment. The microwave beeped. “Did you leave food in there?” he asked. I didn’t respond.

Jimin leaned over my slumped body and opened the small door. “Tch. This is not how you eat fried rice. Have I taught you nothing?”

I sighed drunkenly. “Probably only how to feel sad, you stupid er.”

“Language, language,” Jimin said calmly, heading into the kitchen. He grabbed a pan and reheated the rice the correct way. I hated how he was still acting like this was his home.

I tried to sit up. It didn’t go so well.

“Why are you here?” I demanded. I tried to sound as angry as possible, but it was hard because I had to concentrate on moving my lips. “You don’t live here. Why are you acting like you own the place, damnit.”

“Shh,” Jimin said pacifyingly. “Just rest for now. I’m cooking you some food. Have you eaten today?”

“Have you eaten today?” I retorted childishly.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Jimin replied. He reached into the fridge and pulled out a loaf of bread. “Here,” he said, dropping it on the table in front of me. “Eat some of that.”

I fumbled with the twist tie for a long while before Jimin sighed and opened it for me.

“Why did you drink so much?” he scolded.

“Why the do you think I drank so much?” I chomped into my bread irritably. Jimin looked at me. I couldn’t tell if there was pity or sadness in his eyes. I took a rebellious sip of wine.

“Babe!” He snatched it out of my hands and subsequently spilled it all over the table.

White wine seeped into my clothes. I patted myself slowly, trying to register what was happening.

“Just sit there.” Jimin noticed my feeble attempts to clean myself and brought over a roll of paper towels. He ripped some off and lightly patted the wet spots on my clothes.

“You’ve got some on your face," he said softly. He gently held my face up with one hand and patted my cheek dry with another. He glanced into my eyes shyly from time to time, looking down immediately afterwards.

“Don’t look at me,” I ordered petulantly. “I’ve got swollen eyes from crying. I’m probably so ugly right now.”

“You could never be ugly,” Jimin whispered, still patting my face, even though it was already dry.

Tears began to stream down my cheeks. Jimin wiped them away with his thumb with a wistful look in his eye.

“Why did you leave me?” I demanded in a broken voice. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

Jimin’s face instantly closed off. The beautiful eyes that had been staring at me so intently before became dull and blank. He straightened up and put down the paper towel.

“I don’t want to have this conversation while you’re in this state.” He went into the kitchen and brought me back a bowl of kimchi fried rice.

“I don’t want it,” I refused. “I want to talk to you. I want to know why we broke up. You know I love you, you know that I want to be with you. You know, Jimin. You know.” I quickly began to sober up at the thought of our breakup.

“Because you’re only honest when you’re drunk,” Jimin said bluntly. “Or when you’re tired, or after we’ve had .”

“So what?” I demanded. I started to cry in earnest. Damn angry tears. “You know I love you! Does it matter when I say it? Why do you care about it so much?”

“It’s not just that and you know it,” Jimin stated forcefully. He scooped up a spoonful of rice and tried to feed it to me. “Just eat this and then we can talk.”

“No!” I cried, shoving the spoon away. Food scattered all over the table. Yukon started barking, overexcited from the loud voices and the prospect of food on the floor. “Stop avoiding my questions. Why are we broken up?”

“Babe, you’re making a mess.” Jimin avoided my glare and started cleaning up the spilled food. 

“Stop calling me babe!” I cried. “I’m not your babe anymore. I’m not your anything anymore. Why are you here? Why are you calling me? Why are you taking care of me when I’m drunk? Why are you being so nice to me if you’re just gonna sit there and not wanna be with me?”

“Because you don’t want to commit to me!” Jimin exploded. “It’s not about whether or not you want to marry me. It’s not about whether or not you love me or when you say it. You don’t ing trust me and there’s nothing I can do to change that. I can’t be in a relationship where I constantly feel like you’re waiting for me to up. You’re so guarded and sarcastic and nine times out of ten you reject my advances. It’s not even that I’m mad you won’t sleep with me. I’m just sad because I feel like you don’t even want to be with me. I can’t do it anymore, baby, I just can’t.”

He finished his tirade quietly and stared at his hands. We fell silent for a long moment.

“I’m telling you that I love you," I said. “Why won’t you just believe me?”

Jimin gazed at me with a wistful expression.

“It’s not that I don’t believe that you love me. I just don’t believe that you love me enough.”

We both sat there quietly. My tipsy brain was still taking some time to process what he had said.

He stood up and kissed the top of my head gently. “Please eat. I’m going to get you some clean clothes.”

By the time Jimin came back with pajamas I had obediently finished my food. I also finished a fifth glass of wine without Jimin’s knowledge. He placed the pjs on my lap and cleared my bowl.

“I’m not wearing these.” I threw the pajamas on the floor. They were Hello Kitty ones that Jimin had given me for my birthday.

“Why not?” Jimin demanded, irritated.

“Because they don’t smell like you,” I murmured. That last glass of wine had sent me back to my drunken state.

Jimin’s face softened. “Okay. I’ll get you some new pajamas.” He gathered up the Hello Kitty ones and turned to go into the bedroom.

I mustered what little consciousness I had and got up to follow him. I managed to make it to the closet before I decided to take a break and sit down.

Jimin saw me and let out a little giggle. Although he outwardly disapproved, I knew he secretly loved drunk me. When I wasn’t sad over stupid Jimin ripping out my heart, I was a lot of fun.

He came over and gently pulled my shirt over my head.

“Damn," he said, surprised. “Babe, why are you under this?”

“Took a long time to get out of bed. Just threw on clothes,” I mumbled.

Jimin pulled a clean undershirt over my head and put my arms in the sleeves. I sniffed the collar.

“Mmm…it smells like you.” I snuggled into the shirt.

Jimin pulled off my boxers. “Seriously, why are you not wearing any underwear?”

He went over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of clean ones for me.

“Underwear didn’t seem to matter today,” I muttered.

Jimin came over and put on my underwear for me. He was so caring even when I caused him so much trouble.

“I love you,” I mumbled. My head slumped over; I felt too tired to hold it up anymore.

Jimin put my leg into the first hole of a pair of his boxers. “I know, baby," he said softly.

He finally pulled the waistband up and smoothed out my shirt, then kissed my forehead.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed.” He scooped me up into his arms. I snuggled drunkenly into his chest.

“I really love you, Jimin,” I whispered, verydrunk and half-asleep.

He gently laid me on my side of the bed and covered me with a blanket.

“Goodnight," he whispered, brushing my hair away from my cheek before turning to leave.

I reached out and grabbed his hand. “Don’t go. Please don’t go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I began to cry.

“Shh, shh. Don’t cry.” He bent down and wiped away my tears. “Okay, I’ll stay. Just go to sleep now, all right?”

He climbed into his side of the bed and gently wrapped his arms around me. Yukon padded into the bedroom and hopped up onto the bed, curling up next to my face. He away my tears before settling down into the blankets.

“I love you, Jimin. I really love you,” I whispered, falling asleep.

“I know, baby. I know," Jimin said. The words came out like a sigh.

Right before I fell asleep I heard him whisper something softly.

“I know, but it’s not going to change anything.”