Butterfly | Park Jimin [Book II]

18: Wounds

MIN HANEUL

It was rather unlikely for an incessant attack on my doorbell on a Saturday night, especially not when I wasn't expecting anyone to be here at this time.

Completely puzzled as to who it could be, I peeked through the peephole, only to be greeted by Jimin's hair. His head hung low as he stood outside. I backed away from the door, my clasp on the lever tightened.

"W-Why...?" I mumbled to myself almost breathlessly. Just why exactly is he here?

I could only question myself, remembering that I had basically pushed him away with my blatant lie. My mind blanked out, there was absolutely no reason for him to be here right now.

The doorbell rang once more and I took a deep breath before bringing myself to unlock my door.

Jimin's lackluster eyes bored into mine as if they were trying to say something, but I could not read through them.

"Uh... hey, what brings you—" I was interrupted when Jimin pulled me in for a tight embrace.

Shocked with his action, my first instinct was to shove him away and step away from him. My second instinct was telling me to shut the door on him, but he was already one step inside of my apartment, rendering the option impossible to fulfill.

"You could've just told me and I'd send him away right that instant."

My brows furrowed instantly. "W-What are you talking about?" I struggled the words out.

Jimin's attention remained on the floor and my eyes trailed up and down at his figure, baffled at his current state. It was when my gaze landed on his hands that my eyes widened. "Jimin, your hands... they're..."

"Dongsun, that asśhole."

I worriedly blinked at him. "Jimin, did you...?" He couldn't have— no, that couldn't be.

"I can't believe myself. I'm such an ass. I even blamed it over the fact that you're simply finding excuses not to work with me."

I didn't need to hear more just to take a hint over what happened. I let out the breath I had been unconsciously holding in and took Jimin's hand. He seemed perplexed with the gesture, but I pulled him inside my apartment, nevertheless.

"Just stay there for a while," I told him and went to get the first-aid kit, hoping that it was where I remember I placed it.

A plethora of incoherent thoughts and questions flooded my mind, but I brushed it aside, focusing on going through my cupboards instead.

I returned to Jimin, who was now sitting on the couch with his gaze that followed my every move. I'd naturally feel uncomfortable, but considering that I had to tend on his bruised and wounded hand, I disregarded it.

"You shouldn't have...involved yourself." I examined his hand, thinking if I had termed his actions correctly. I didn't want to get too ahead of myself, after all.

I gingerly poured alcohol and I felt him wince under my touch, so I blew on his knuckles, trying to soothe the pain.

It reminded me of his first wounds I had seen him with. The ones when he tried to fold paper cranes. Now he had them again, and just like before, it was because of me. Well, partly, since the paper cranes fiasco was sort of my fault.

But instead of frowning, the corners of my mouth curled up into a sad smile.

"This is going to hurt a little," I said as I pressed the cotton gently and wiped on the injured area to make sure it wouldn't get infected.