(JIKOOK) Texting Story Snippets

Fear

The figure sways side to side on a lonely swing. Hoseok finds the far away scene unsettling, but by the slump of the figures shoulders and the frame of his back, he sighs heavily in temporary relief. It's got to be Jimin.

Hoseok closes the distance between himself and the playground and as he approaches, he lets the tension release from his shoulders. Jimin is unmistakable. The younger doesn't turn to look in his direction even when his footsteps crunch into the snow littered gravel playground floor. "You're here." He mutters, a bit disheartened. "What are you doing here, Chim?"

No answer, again. Jimin doesn't look up at him. He stops his steps before the smaller boy, crouching down in front of him. Jimin's eyes are closed, the side of his face pressed into the swing chain. He keeps rocking, the hinges holding up the old rackety swing set squeaking with every small movement he makes. It's louder up close, Hoseok cringes, but he's less afraid of it now.

Hoseok sighs at Jimin's reluctance to even acknowledge his presence. He takes a seat on the swing beside the younger, deciding to wait for a moment before asking any other questions. Obviously, Jimin is upset. More than that, he can safely assume. In all the years of their friendship, he's never felt so on edge with Jimin's emotions. He doesn't know what transpired between his two friends before he got himself involved, but he can feel the depressive energy surrounding Jimin's still form.

"It's really cold out here, Chim. Why don't we walk home?" Hoseok whispers, never taking his eyes away from Jimin. If it weren't for the others swaying motions in his swing, he wouldn't even be able to tell if Jimin was living person. He reaches out to touch the smallers arm, registering how cold his clothes feel under his pocket warmed hand. "I'll make some coffee, and we can stay up and talk about anything. If you want to." He tries, concern deeply lining between his brows. Again, no reply.

Unsure of what to do, but feeling guilty for some reason, Hoseok sighs. He hasn't been outside for nearly as long as Jimin has, and it's a night that's cold can easily settle in your lungs. He worries for Jimin's health, above the boys emotions or his own shivering limbs. Hoseok removes his hoodie, cringing as frosty winds bite against his exposed arms. He stands up to place his hoodie around Jimin's shoulders, rubbing the youngers cold arms through the extra clothing. "You're going to get sick if you stay out here."

Hoseok wraps his arms around himself and he returns to his swing. He feels almost too cold to move now without even a concealing layer to cover his bare arms. His teeth begin to clatter, but he keeps trying to speak. "You shouldn't get sick, Chim. It's going to make you feel worse, you- you know."

"I don't care." Jimin finally speaks, voice empty and broken and strained from either fallen tears or the brutal assault of staying in the cold for much too long. Hoseok can't be sure which, but his heart aches with the sound of his friends tone.

"No," Hoseok whines. "You have to care, at least for your health. It's important, Jimin."

"It's not important." Jimin denies, voice still absent of emotion.

"Yes it is. Health always comes first. It's f-freezing." Hoseok shakes with his words. "This isn't good for either of us, lets talk at home."

Jimin turns his head away from the chain of the swing, eying Hoseok with a darkened stare. His eyes are glazed as if he's been crying. That would justify the crack of his weak voice when he speaks. His cheeks are wind blown red, lips chapped. "I'm not interested in talking, Hobi. You shouldn't have come to find me."