Bangtan's Baby | 18+

one⭒❃.✮:▹the confession

Li's POV

Oh, what do I do about Jungkook?

I thought these feelings I didn't understand would go away, but they're still here. Is it love? Is it something completely different?

My vision blurs, but I quickly wipe my eyes, trying to keep my attention on the road as I drive.

I know that I want Jimin; there's no doubt in my mind. We can figure this out. We have in a way already, but still, anxiety continues to wreck me. There's only so much we can talk about something until it becomes reality, and now that it's happening, the reality is so much more nerve-wracking—so much more than I could have fathomed.

I arrive at the dance studio and pace outside.

I checked our earlier messages and found the time he said he would be done, and while it isn't for a while, a break is coming soon.

I wipe hastily at the threatening tears, not wanting them to control me, but it's not long before the door opens. Jimin—my boyfriend, my lover—appears sweating and tired, and I feel the tears bubble up at the sight of him.

He notices me, and his eyebrows furrow with confusion. "Baby?"

I twine my hands together anxiously. "Hi, I just—" I inhale sharply. "I needed to drop something off."

"Ah." His features relax into a smile. "Is that so?"

I nod, although no. It's not so.

His smile remains, ever present and soft. "What are you dropping off?"

"Well, I..." I look around for an answer. "I forgot it in the car."

"Do you want to go get it? I've got twenty minutes."

"Okay."

I don't make a move to do so, knowing there's nothing for me to retrieve, and he tilts his head at the hesitation. At the pause.

He says my name slowly, taking note of my trembling lips and red eyes. When I don't respond, he drops his bag and walks over without another word, grabs my hand, and leads me to my car.

Before we get in, I blurt, "I didn't bring anything, and I—I didn't need to drop anything off. I'm sorry I lied. I don't know why I did, but I just—" I whirl around to face him. "I needed to see you."

"It's okay." All that etches into his face is concern. Care. "You're okay."

My expression drops. "I need to talk to you."

"Hey." He takes a step closer, his brows knitting together at the sight of my brimming eyes. "Breathe. We're okay, aren't we? You can always talk to me." He searches my face. "Did something happen?"

I nod slowly.

"Okay, all right," he soothes. "Do you want to take some deep breaths and tell me what happened?"

"It's what—I mean, it's part of what we talked about, but I'm..." My features pinch together, a flurry of mixed emotions in my gut. "I didn't realize how...real it would feel."

His forehead creases with concern. "What happened?"

"It's me," I insist. "I felt like like I was doing something wrong."

"Breathe, sweetheart. What did you feel like you were doing wrong?"

A shiver runs up my spine. "I felt like I was doing something wrong by even having the conversation, even if you and I both talked about it, but without you there—"

He brings my hands into his, and when his thumbs draw caressing circles on the top of my palms, I can feel an ounce of tension begin to bleed out of me. "I need you to tell me what happened. I can't help if you don't."