ROPE BUNNY - Vminkook

9

You all really hate Taehyung huh?

When Taehyung woke the first thing he felt was home. It was an intrinsic, guttural feeling that bordered on unwelcome but he didn't quite have the heart to push it away. Jimin had made space for him here. A weird little part of him felt a need the cherish it, like it could fracture under too much pressure and cause more pain than it was worth.

He envisioned the little eggs that would once sit outside the window of his bedroom, the pale speckled shells that were so pathetically dainty and delicate; their very existence got on his nerves. He failed to appreciate them at all but once they were gone, cracked and useless, all that remained was a muddy pile of filthy twigs and moss that were in perfect harmony with the rest of his crap. And that was worse.

A pleasant warm musk of expensive cologne muddled with a cheaper mixture of floral detergents that tingled in his nostrils as he buried his face in the pillow, combating a slight waft of some kind of fried batter that his rumbling stomach was embarrassing attuned to. This was better. He was free to leave at any time and that in itself was a breath of fresh air, albeit worse now Jungkook wanted nothing to do with him. Jungkook deserved better than him anyway, he was always punching above his weight by trying to keep him.

The food that would have been cold and dry, cooked hours before when Jimin had woken up, he told himself, was not worth the energy it would take to pull himself from bed.

Yet his muscles twitched and within moments he was moving unwillingly to the doorframe, stumbling slightly over himself in a half hearted attempt to will himself back to bed and maybe order take out to have for breakfast instead.

Jimin turned to him as he thumped against the door frame, bright and welcoming.

But he wasn't alone.

Disrupting the bleak, modern colour scheme of creams, whites and soft muted tones he spied black. Soft black hair that hung in unstyled tufts that in places prodded their owner's eyelashes. The person who stared at him with hands pressed firmly into his lap, a tattooed arm cowering into a strong torso.

His thoughts were frozen silent, nothing but a creeping dreaded rising up in his throat. Slowly he turned back to Jimin who remained nonchalant, a teatowel in hand as he stood poised, shoulders in a relaxed slant.

The sight was enough to evoke plenty of things to say. A dozen a second buzzed in his mind, hanging around him in a thick tense cloud urging him to snap. His tongue pressed up into the roof of his mouth painfully and he breathed a heavy breath as he willed himself to say something, anything.

Frustrated, wetness began to pool on his eyes but still nothing happened. He forced himself to open his mouth to speak but his voice was meek. "I asked you not to get involved," Part of him blamed the pathetic little crack in his tone on having not spoken yet, he should have cleared his throat before speaking, that's why the words came out in a weak little whisper.

But he had no excuse for the words he said.

None of the empty, vapid complaints that would have been so easy to rant through his frustrations, no overbearing anger that could evoke some kind of cathartic reaction from him. The honesty suprised even himself and he soon found his breaths shallow and uncertain with a strange heady feeling he only welcomed during sex.

He hated how Jungkook's dark eyes widened with concern, how his lips pressed into a gentle pout as though he too was silently urging himself to speak.

Jimin's lips were pursed as he folded the cloth in his hands and set it neatly on the counter. "But we can make it all better now,"