he ; yoonmin

034

jimin huffed with a stomp of his foot.

breakfast was quiet, but comfortable. the radio news played lightly in the background while they listened, occasionally giving their input. even though jimin chose cereal, he ended up trying a bite of his mom's omelette and was sad at how good it tasted. if he had known vegetables didn't suck when paired with eggs, he wouldn't have had cereal.

the early day was almost as bright as he was.

he'd offered to take everyone's dishes and stick them in the dishwasher while his mother cleaned up the table. for once, she wasn't dressed in scrubs and a lab coat, instead comfortably wearing a pair of jeans and a gifted t-shirt. today was one of her rarely given day off's.

"mom," jimin said, shutting the dishwasher closed when he finished, "can you maybe not open the binds so widely next time? and if you do, it would be nice if you drew the curtain closed so the sun doesn't blind me." he leaned against the archway of the kitchen entrance, watching as she ran a damp rag atop the glass dinning table.

"what do you mean?" she asked, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"earlier today," jimin spoke slowly this time, "you let the sun into my room." but she only shook her head at this, sending jimin's heart to rapidly beat against his ribcage with dread. "your father and i hadn't gone into your room at all. maybe you forgot to close them again, mini—" she didn't know jimin had stopped opening his window to begin with, "—you know how you do that often."

"right." he answered tersely, his voice quivering. his mom looked over in his direction with skeptical concern, but he flashed her a tight smile with a small shake of his head. "if you need me, i'm drawing in my room." he didn't want to go in there.

his steps were quick and ungracious, resulting in him stumbling through his doorway and shutting it with a dull slam. he leaned against the wood, hands behind him on the doorknob, taking in deep and calculated breaths. he could feel his vision blurring and the room began to tilt and twist, like he was looking at it through a funhouse mirror.

his fingers fiddled with the doorknob a bit, trying to locate the lock. when he heard the small affirmation that his attempts had worked, he walked further into his room and looked around. he tried to find any noticeable difference that there was a presence there other than himself, but couldn't spot any.

but jimin knew.

foreboding loomed over him like a bear as he slowly turned in his spot to face where his desk was. the desk beside his window. the desk with the flash drive and the nunchuck key chain. the desk with the evidence.

it was neat and the way he had left it. his cup of markers and pens sat at one corner, a tiered tray of canvas paper and stickers at the other. but in the middle was a foreign object underneath a lime green sticky note. jimin rarely used those post-it notes, leaving them tucked into the drawer in the middle compartment.

a cold rolled over on him and he was soon drowning in ice water. he forced himself to walk forward, to walk closer. a sob choked at his throat and his fingers trembled as he reached to pick up the paper. his eyes flicked down to the object before reading the note; it was a small phone.

jimin, do you understand just how
adorable you look asleep?
i wish i could've gotten into bed with you,
but we aren't at the stage yet,
are we?

jimin took a sharp inhalation at the words that were written in another one of his brush pen colors. the writing was weird, some words were scrawled and barely intelligible while others were neat and written precisely. what was even weirder was that there was no pattern with the alternating fonts. it was as if two people had written them, or two different hands.