BROKEN PROMISES âŻ
âHandâŚI⌠I punched the ⌠the locker.â He spoke softly, though his voice was rough and broken, tears continuing to fall. His gaze dropped to the youngers lips and he wondered just what the soft plush would feel like pressed against his own - but heâd never have the courage to try and find out, so he simply stared at the pink tiers for a moment, before, closing his eyes and whimpering once again, sort of wanting to just pass out and let the whole situation disappear.
The reality that he could lose Jimin to a game to brutal and cruel made him want to throw up - he still wasnât sure that he wouldnât so just that.
In Jiminâs past, heâd frequently felt guilty over things, big and little. Over things like teasing the younger kids in his class, or cheating on a maths exam (because back then, heâd been a pretty decent kid, oddly enough). Heâd grown up feeling guilt, sometimes strong enough that he felt it seeping through his every pore, that thinking of someone living without a conscience didnât make sense to him â couldnât make sense to him, even. But then heâd stepped into Mugunghwa University, and his take on it took a drastic change along with that.
He hadnât believed in monsters, though, not until he became witness to some of the savage, violent things that the students had done. Heâd found himself awestruck, sometimes, at how quickly brothers would be willing to stab each other in the back, how some could go from friends to foes in the blink of an eye. Itâd felt like realityâd hit him in the face, back then, but he hadnât showed it too often. With time, he grew accustomed to the lack of conscience with the majority of his peers.
One disturbing fact that he found himself constantly forgetting was that Jaehyun was a student, too. A student with a past, just like everyone else.
And Jimin was no stranger to gossip, or the occasional story circulating around campus, so he knew that, most of the time, he couldnât trust it. But some of the things heâd heard about Jaehyun, some of the things that people suspected heâd done â sometimes, Jimin couldnât help but wonder. He didnât do much besides wonder, but it always left him feeling a little more hollow than he had been before.
Heâd kept himself by Jaehyunâs side for who knew how long by then, despite the things that heâd heard, and the multiple warnings heâd received â like a tiny parasite that just took, and took, and took, to satisfy its curiosity, along with the occasional adrenaline rush. (His curiosityâd never been satisfied with Jaehyun, for whatever reason that mightâve been, though.)
Or at least, that was how itâd been at the start.
He knew how overprotective Jaehyun was (heâd seen it with his own eyes, how far Jaehyunâd been willing to go to protect him) â but he didnât know when it was exactly that heâd begun slowly reciprocating that protectiveness. He didnât know when Jaehyun had gone from being labelled âfriendâ to âbest friendâ, at the back of his head. The events were fuzzy, when he tried thinking back to them, but he was a hundred-percent sure that it had happened at one point or another.
Whatâd made him so convinced of that was how heâd reacted, how just the thought of Jaehyun in such a pained position had been enough for him to crack â itâd almost been an automatic response from Jimin, but he didnât regret it. He couldnât possibly regret choosing to help Jaehyun, not when he knew that he wouldnât have done otherwise, no matter the cirmustance.
He kept himself grounded, crouching in front of Jaehyun with sadness written over his features in clear, watertight ink. He felt guilty, and there was no doubt about it, but it felt different â different than all those times heâd done something and incontrovertibly fucked up. This time, he wanted to mend things, for both Jaehyun and himself.
But the hand suddenly moving to grab his shirt, the vibration of every whimper against the skin of his neck, it surprised him. It surprised him more than it should have, and he only realized that upon noticing the fact that heâd frozen, as stiff as the hairs on the back of his neck.Â
He managed to pull himself out of it, though.
Both his hands fell, tangling themselves around Jaehyunâs waist before one of them rose to the back of Jaehyunâs head, his fingers running through the tufts of hair, as soothingly as he could have pictured possible. And it worked, for a short while.
The only thing slowing Jimin down was the fact that he was finding it increasingly hard not to burst into tears, as well.
He lifted his head just about the right time, though, when he was met with Jaehyunâs forehead against his. It didnât shock him, not like the first time, at least. He stared at Jaehyun with soft eyes for what seemed to be the longest time before he got an actual response from the elder.
His eyes went wide as soon as he did, though, and he blinked â once, twice â before separating himself from Jaehyun to take a proper look at his hand. The sight he was met with had a gasp leaving his lips, hands immediately coming down to cradle Jaehyunâs hand in his own.
What was he thinking? The question rose to Jiminâs mind, inevitably, but Jimin didnât pay it too much mind, far too preoccupied by the alarmed thoughts that were running through his head after heâd seen the swelling thatâd reached Jaehyunâs (broken) hand.
âJaehyunnie, wâ we really need to get this checked.â
