Bts sickfics, hurt & comfort

Doll, p. I (Jimin)

The hotel air that welcomes Jimin is a little cold and he shivers, wrapping himself tightly. The singer lets some time pass, staring at the wall and staying on the thin matt as his body slowly accepts the new temperature. Alright. He gets dressed in a comfortable pair of joggings and a simple t-shirt, making sure not to slip on the wet tiles. He'll be almost ready to sleep later, with only his shirt to remove and his hair to dry. Jimin picks up his clothes from where he threw them on the ground earlier and he turns off the light, unlocking the door on his way out of the bathroom. He turns left, heading towards his luggage that sits between the wall and his bed, but he stops in his tracks when he realises that he can't see a thing. Jimin looks over his shoulder at the bathroom, trying to remember where and when he put down his glasses. He isn't given the time to react before a hand is pressed against his mouth and he is shoved into the wall. Jimin drops his clothes at the impact.

His eyes widen and he fights back immediately, mind spinning with every possible outcome of whatever the hell is going on. He tries biting the rough hand pressing hard on his lips, but he can't quite manage to move his jaw. The dancer raises his fists to hit the arms holding him down but the man towering over him doesn't budge. Over his shoulder, Jimin can make out two other figures standing and watching the whole ordeal, and his breath hitches in panic. He's outnumbered, and alone. How did they get in? His screams are muffled but he tries his hardest to get someone's attention as he attempts to defend himself to no avail. He kicks the man nonetheless, pouring every last drop of his energy into freeing himself: Jimin isn't going down without a fight. When one of his fists finally collides with the man's face, he screams in relief. Then, he manages to push himself away from the wall.

The two shadowy figures move forward as soon as the man groans and Jimin knows he isn't out of the woods yet. He looks left and right in search of anything that could prove useful, but there isn't a single object that's not out of his reach. He doesn't even remember where he left his phone... So he breathes out, and he tries to make a run for it. He waits until the man looks down to start dashing away from him, but the anxiety has made his legs heavier and his movements slower, and before he knows it, rough hands are once again grabbing him. He shrieks when his arm is hooked back behind his back as he is slammed against the wall face first, cheek hitting the tapestry in a quick motion that knocks his breath out. The stronghold on his arm succeeds in immobilising him as he feels the pressure building up in his shoulder. It hurts, so much so that Jimin eventually has to stop struggling against the intruder as he grits his teeth in discomfort.

"Feisty little one, aren't you?" he hears from behind the man.

"Let go of me!"

The people who caught him only laugh at his request and Jimin lets out a tight whine. His arm is pushed a little higher and he winces at the painful feeling of his arm almost coming out of its socket. His mind keeps spinning as his breaths draw shorter and shorter. How did they even get past security? The dancer knows he has lost this game, but it doesn't stop him from cursing at them. He starts to hear footsteps getting closer and from the corner of his eye he sees a silhouette coming towards him. He blinks a few times but it's no use, he's not wearing his glasses or his contacts and everything around him is blurry. Yet, his mouth still drops open when he hears his voice. There's no way...

"Long time no see, doll."

It's him. Jimin's mind blanks as panic curses through his veins. It's really him. He'd recognise that nickname anywhere. Water drips down his forehead all the way down to his eyelashes, droplets landing on the ground one by one. His hair is still wet from the shower that now seems ages ago, and a shiver runs through his body. Jimin doesn't even realise that he's frozen before he feels a finger tipping his chin up. The angle is uncomfortable as his head is pushed to his right until he can't possibly move, and he is forced to look into the man's eyes. He really came back. Time stops. It's really him.