Sugar & Ocean

Project Trust

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes stinging as you register the man's words.

I knew it was too good to be true.

What's worse is that Jimin dies nothing to deny it. He simply stands there-shoulders tense, posture rigid-but he says nothing at all.

So that was all you were to him. A gay girl. A bet.

Your hands shake as you step back, once again lost in the pulsating lights, the rythm. Nothing can stop your tears from flowing as they run down your face, which itself contorts in pain.

Should've listened to Yoongi.

A loud sob escapes your lips.

You don't want to cry. You want to be that strong girl who bears everything, you want to pretend like nothing ever happen.

But you're weak.

You're broken.

And you live it for this one time.

Covering your mouth with your hand, you turn, you run.

The lights are to bright.

The music is too loud.

You must be drunk on pain, because a giggle escapes your lips as you run to wherever your legs carry you.

But then someone grabs you from behind, flipping you around-

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Jimin hears the voice.

Well, it's not exactly a voice, but a broken sob-but it feels so familiar that in that moment, he knows.

The realisation hits him like a bullet to the gut.

She heard.

Turning to Baekhyun with a snarl, Jimin yells in pain. "You knew she was listening, didn't you? You fucking bastard!"

"It's not possible for me not to know," The man's voice is yet calm, repeating his words. "I was just helping you."

"Helping me?!" The boys snaps, fists clenching so hard that he can feel his nails cut into his palm. "You hurt her!"

"Choose your words carefully, Park Jimin," Cold calm seeps into Baekhyun's beautiful voice. "Was it me who hurt her, or you?"

And what pains him is that he's right.

Jimin doesn't trust himself to speak, but does it anyway. "The bet is null and void, Byun Baekhyun," He grits out, shaking in fury. "And I'm going to get her back. Just you wait."

Baekhyun smiles slyly. "I'm waiting."

Jimin all but runs out the door, slamming it behind him.

His eyes dart from corner to corner, trying to find you in the thick crowd. He catches your shaking form stumbling towards a room, and he runs after you without a second thought.

Grabbing your shoulders, he flips you, finding himself face-to-face with your tear filled face. Heart plummeting at the sight, Jimin doesn't think twice before crashing his lips to yours.

Your lips addicting to him.

Firmly pressing your body to his chest, he tightens his grip on you when you try to push him away. Tilting his head, he deepens the kiss, hastily and sloppily moving with yours, and his mind goes blank.

You're his own drug.

You manage to push him away, unable to control your raging tears. "How dare you, you fucking asshole-"

"Call me whatever you want, because I know I am" Jimin breathes out, his voice soft. "But I still care about you."

You bark out a sarcastic laugh. "Right. The only thing you car about is the fucking bet."

"Y/N," His voice is pleading. "That's not true-"

"I know enough." You snap, stepping back, wiping the back of your hand against your swollen lips. "You got what you wanted, Jimin. You broke my heart."

"Y/N-"

"Don't." You're shaking, but you know you still want him. "What more do you want from me?"

"I want you to believe me." Jimin steps forward, running his fingers over your cheekbone. "I want you to love me."

"So you can break me again?" Your voice is trembling. "No, fuckboy."

"Y/N, please," His voice is pleading, begging almost, as he leans forward, extending his hand. Just like the first time you met. "Just trust me."

You glance at his hand.

You know you're in too deep-you want to forgive him, because you care too freaking much.

You still want him. You still trust him.

And you want to be happy.

You swallow, feeling heavy and confused.

And you don't know why you do what you do next.

You glance up at him weakly, and slip your trembling hand into his.

Jimin's eyes are teary, but his smile is genuine, and his hand is warm. And his eyes swirl with an emotion so intense, so beautiful, and so pure, that you are sure you have never seen anything like it before.

He pulls you closer to him, stroking the apple of your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. And this time, you don't pull away.

You tighten your grip on his hand, filled with wonder at how it still gives you a sense of security, of warmth. You look at him again, remembering your first meeting.

"Don't make me regret this," You whisper.