IMPERFECT • JIKOOK

if

But we were not perfect

---

Blinking his eyes for how many times already, steadying his breathing, Jimin fumbled for his phone on the carpeted floor under the flickering lights. His cousin, Jungkook, had told him to text him anytime whenever he wanted someone to talk to or when he was bored. He'd given the boy his number during their session earlier. Jungkook had said it was better if Jimin texted his questions to him. Jimin smiled to himself as he remembered how his cousin had blushed after asking for his number, looking so cute and adorable. He couldn't help but chuckle.

He suddenly clasped a hand over his chest in shock as he heard his mother shout from upstairs. He didn't waste time to jump on his feet and ran fast to the second floor to get to her and ask what the shout was all about. But as he pushed her room's door open, his jaw dropped and his heart clenched at the sight.

His mother was kneeling down to a petite, small frame lying lifelessly on the floor who he could only guess was his little sister.

He could hear his heart shattering to pieces as his mother broke out into a sob.

"Mom!" he cried, treading his feet closer to his mother's shaking figure. He gulped down as he scanned Seulgi's tiny body that was sprawled on the floor and sighed loudly as he saw that she was still breathing. "W-what ha— happened?"

"S-she... was just p-playing on the bed," his mother wheezed, her shoulders rising and falling. "Then s-she suddenly started coughing b-blood a-and screaming t-that her chest hurt and... f-fell on t-the floor. Oh, Jimin, I don't k-know what t-to do!"

He crouched down and wrapped his arms around his mother's small body, his tears already making their way out of his eyes. His breath kept on hitching as he dialed a certain number on his phone. The other line picked up the call after a few more rings, asking him what the emergency was.

"M-my little s-sister p-passed out. Please... s-send help."

--

He watched Seulgi's small chest as she breathed small puffs of air, holding her soft hand so hard like she would disappear from his sight if he didn't grip it tight enough. He stifled a cry as he put his good hand over his mouth. His eyes were now very swollen from too much crying.

His mother had told him to keep an eye on his sister as she had went outside to contact her husband.

But Jimin knew better.

He knew too well that his mother was lying. There was no contacting of his father because there was no father at all. He was gone. He'd already left them for a new family. And that explained his mother's crying in her bedroom every night that she'd thought he never had noticed, the hidden mail in the drawer that was from Seoul saying that his father was never coming back here in Busan that she didn't know Jimin already had read.

He knew.

And it hurt him, knowing of the aftermath already without his mother saying first the main problem to him.

It hurt that his mother couldn't even tell him about it.

Did she not trust him enough?

Or was he just not good enough to be trusted?

Well, that was all he was in her eyes after all.

Not good enough.

Not good enough like Jungkook.

And it hurt even more that even he himself was telling him such things that he knew could only ruin him even more.

You're just not good enough like him, he told himself. So don't blame her for not talking to you about it.

Warm tears ran down his cheeks that were tinged with pink as he thought about all his past disappointments that had made his mother not to trust him.

You're the problem here, can't you see? he continued to think, eyeing the fading lines that were on his pale, thin wrists.

The corners of his lips lifted into a small smile as something in his mind told him to cut them open again.

They look sad being just lines, no emotions. Put a smile on them so they'll be happy again.

And so he did.

--

"Hey, buddy," Yoongi said from his left, poking his arms lightly, "what's up?"

"I don't know. The sun, maybe?" Jimin grumbled from his seat, not looking up from his English literature book that he had been absentmindedly reading for a whole ten-minute now. He could hear his friend's annoyed grunt and the scratching of Yoongi's chair as he dragged it to get closer to him.

"What's gotten into you now?"

His friend's voice was seeping with worry and confusion.

"Nothing."

A smack on his head.

"Don't fucking lie, Jimin. I can see it in your eyes. You have a fucking problem."

He whipped his body to the side to glare at his friend who only mirrored him. The air around them went tense, their gazes cold. The elder cocked his head to the side and lifted a corner of his mouth upwards.

"Fine," Jimin muttered, his voice barely a whisper, eyes trained on the dusty floor where his tired legs stood. "I have a fucking problem."

He could feel Yoongi's hand travelling up his arms till it rested on his shoulder. He swatted his friend's hand away and glared at him again.

"Don't touch me!" Jimin hissed at the elder.

Yoongi just blinked at him and stood on his feet, his jaw clenching in anger.

"You know what, Jimin? I'm fucking tired of you!" he cried, slamming a fist on his desk. "Call me when you need my help again. You're good at that."

Then Jimin perked just for him to see that his friend had already left the library. And, probably, was never going back.

"Shit," he silently hissed, realizing that he might have broken their friendship now.

He fleetly hoisted his body and slung his backpack on a shoulder, dragging his feet out of the place with the book in his hand. He wanted to follow Yoongi, but stopped in his tracks as he bumped into someone near the doorway, his book immediately making its journey to the cold, hard hallway floor. He just stared at it, too worn-out to make a move or even blurt a word off his mouth.

"Dude, are you blind?" the late remark came ringing through his ears.

When he didn't move or say a thing, a hard push made its way to his chest and he stumbled backwards causing him to fall on his butt hard. The boy who'd done it left afterwards.

Jimin just stayed on the floor for what seemed like five minutes until strong arms gripped his waist and carried him up for him to stand on his own feet. A hand was brushing his bangs away from his face and Jungkook was in front of him now, smiling at him for no reason. The younger made him lean on a locker and he stood beside him.

"You're okay, hyung," Jungkook beamed, a boyish grin on his face, eyes of the same weariness Jimin had. The elder just looked at the boy, trying to figure out why the younger was here.

He somehow felt relieved that Jungkook hadn't asked him anything, but instead the junior had answered for him of the question he had been asking himself all the time.

Was he okay?

He really didn't know the answer.

But according to Jungkook, he was.

And as the younger kept on showing his smiles at him, he thought he might probably believe him for a moment.

Just for a moment.

Even if it was just a lie.

---

for you were glass and I was a rock