B.

seventeen

"Jin," Jimin said gently after a while. "Are you alright?"

Seokjin sighed and pulled back, the bed groaned as he shifted toward the foot and threw his legs over the side. He shook his head, looking away as he was overcome with embarrassment.

"I'm okay," Seokjin replied, letting out a breathy laugh. "I imagine how weird this is for you. Didn't expect someone like me to be so weak, eh?"

Jimin's tongue darted across his lips, not knowing how to reply. Sure, this side of Jin was not who Jimin had first met, but he wasn't disgruntled by the fact that Seokjin was human. That someone like him also struggles and hurts.

Jimin hesitantly reached his hand out. He debated pulling back but ultimately laid his palm down on Seokjin's shoulder. With a rub of his thumb, Jimin said, "You know, if you wanna talk..."

"No," Jin said in a low tone, "that's okay. It's just my parents, right? They don't exist in my life, but when they do all they do is criticize. They don't know me and don't care to, yet get so disappointed with everything I do because it's never good enough. But how am I supposed to be the perfect son if they don't teach me or give me the chance?"

Jimin sat quietly as Seokjin spilled into a vent even after stating he wasn't going to. After the conversation they had earlier that day in Jimin's apartment, it was a huge leap to learn about Seokjin's personal life. 

Jimin wished he could offer advice, but he barely knew how to handle his own issues. All he could do was offer an ear for someone who clearly and desperately needed it.

"Why are they so distant?" he asked. 

Seokjin turned, finally looking at Jimin again. His face was a bit swollen and his eyes were red. As sad as Jin was, it appalled Jimin to see him so vulnerable and open. Jimin could only stare back.

"I don't know," Jin finally answered. "My brother and I practically raised ourselves while they focused on their work constantly. I had maids, tutors, and nannies but..."

"But you didn't get the attention you craved from your parents," Jimin finished. Seokjin nodded.

"Do you think that's why you are the way you are now?" Jimin asked. "You sleep around to fill this hole that deeply needs affection?"

Seokjin stilled for a moment, then spun to face Jimin completely on the bed. Jimin retracted his hand.

"Probably," he admitted. "I never thought of it that way. I spent most of my middle school years baking, sometimes cooking. I picked up a love of food thanks to my family's talented chef, and I figured that I wanted to try it for myself. So I spent half my days at home in the kitchen. I had such a strong passion for it and my personal chef was very impressed, and soon the whole neighborhood became engrossed with the idea of the youngest Kim being a chef. My parents pawned me off as their little jewel, and I was constantly cooking and baking for their dinner parties. As much as I enjoyed the experience and praise, my parents scolded me behind closed doors for engaging in what they called peasant's work. I found myself rapidly burning out as the one thing I was good at would never be enough for them. I recall the summer before my second year in high school, I was approached by a girl..."