BTS YoonMin Imagines - Collection 1 [C]

Violence Was the Answer Pt. 3 FINAL

Hello!

Yes hi excuse me...
UwU and FLUFF and SOFTNESS and sudden urges to SQUEAL will occur :*

Try your best not to bawl your eyes out 💜

Enjoy!

Third Person:

As Yoongi and the rest of the members made their way home, Jimin was in the shower scrubbing his skin over and over, the water washing away his silent tears. He felt disgusting; used and mistreated in a way no one ever should. He stood in the shower for hours, the freezing cold not phasing him a bit. He kept cleaning and scrubbing and washing with no intention to stop; it was his way of trying to push those terrible memories in the back of his mind and hide them away never to be seen again.

After many minutes of shivering and persuading himself, he got out and dried off. He took his time, not having anywhere to be and having nothing better to do. He could be lying in bed, wallowing in his own self pity, or he could be strong and pretend that what happened was insignificant to him. It was a lie; what happened... he would never be the same person again. Not completely. But he had to lie. He had to seem strong and brave and happy like nothing was wrong for the well-being of his friends and everyone else important to him. Especially Yoongi.

After seeing what Yoongi did to Lucas, a normal person would be terrified to even meet his eyes. But that wasn't the case for Jimin. Even though Yoongi looked malicious, hostile, demonic, and monstrous, Jimin's body refused to be scared. He knew that Yoongi's actions were for him... him. He knew that Yoongi was the one person that would never fail him. Yoongi kept his promise, even though the older thought otherwise.

When Jimin was finally dried, he walked into his and Hoseok's lamplit room with the towel around his waist to search for clothes. He managed to find a clean pair of black boxers along with dark green sweatpants that clung to his ankles. He tied the strings into a lopsided bow, his hands still trembling but not as much as before. He let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his damp, orange hair, walking to sit on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his tired eyes with his knuckles before letting them fall in his lap carelessly.

When he opened his bloodshot orbs again, he found a black jacket draped over the back of the office chair. It wasn't Hoseok's and it certainly wasn't Jimin's. The shoulders were too broad and the sleeves were too long, the size much too large for them both. After a moment, realization hit him, bringing a small smile to his face.

He remembered the moment he heard Yoongi's voice making him turn around to find him slowly taking off the black jacket. He was so gentle as he helped Jimin's arms through the sleeves and zipped up the front to hide his exposed chest. He ignored the stinging pain in his hands and lip to help his Jimin. He became so angry at those men trying to take Jimin away from his strong arms...

Jimin couldn't help but get up and walk to the jacket. He held it softly in his small hands and brought it to his face to inhale Yoongi's intoxicating scent. The dark fabric gently shook in his hands, the simple thought of Yoongi bringing his pulse down to something bearable. Jimin slipped on the jacket and left it unzipped before looking out into the night sky.

He couldn't help but worry about the older. He couldn't imagine the things he was feeling and how he was managing being away from the younger when he was in such a fragile state. His heart clenched knowing he wasn't there to calm Yoongi down; reassure him everything would be fine. Though, such actions would have to wait.

Yoongi and the other members sat distressed in a tense silence, no one daring to say a word to the mint haired man. His fists rested on his knees as he scowled at the cold and dark night sky, almost wishing he had kept his jacket. But Jimin needed it more than Yoongi ever would. He wasn't going to let the man he adored - the man he loved - be humiliated any longer. That was unacceptable in Yoongi's eyes. The younger was already traumatized; he didn't need people staring at his ripped clothes making him even more embarrassed.