35| dumpster cries

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the planets are aligning, sorta

THE front door to Taehyung's dorm opened shortly after Jimin's discovery of the journal passage on Taehyung's laptop. He whipped his head around, watching as Taehyung slipped off his shoes and hung up his jacket, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He froze when he looked up, face contorting into confusion.


"H-Hey." Jimin managed to stutter out breathily, the words that were printed on the screen still fresh in his mind.

"What's up?" Taehyung asked, smiling as he took off the bag and set it down on the granite kitchen counter. Jimin gulped as he came closer.

"I fell."

"You fell?" Taehyung frowned, "From where? Are you okay?"

Jimin nodded frantically, "I'm fine, I-I think. I f-fell off m-my bed and hit my h-head on the d-desk."

"God, how'd you manage that?" Taehyung asked, walking over. He pulled Jimin towards him by his shoulder before placing his hands in the elder's fluffy hair and began feeling. Jimin's breath hitched.

"I was jum-jumping on the b-bed, just messing a-around and d-dancing." Jimin muttered, voice shaky.

Taehyung paused his motions when he felt the bump on Jimin's head. Gently, he parted his hair back from that spot to look at it, hands technical and experienced as he did. He sighed and drew his hands away after examining it.

"You're fine." Taehyung muttered softly, "Nothing but a bump."

Jimin nodded, knowing his voice would fail him if he attempted to speak. He couldn't look Taehyung in the eye, instead focusing on the scratch on the coffee table. His hands traveled to the hem of his shirt, playing nervously with the fabric.

Taehyung noticed the action, "You good?"

"H-Huh? Oh, y-yeah."

"What are you nervous for? Is it about your head?" Taehyung gripped Jimin's shoulder gently, apply a bit of pressure. Jimin wanted to get up and walk to the other side of the room. "It's just a bump, really, you don't even have a-"

"It's n-not about m-my head." Jimin said quickly. He shrugged Taehyung's hand off and stood, making Taehyung back up a couple of steps.

Taehyung's frown deepened, "Then what is it?"

Jimin stayed silent.

"Is it Jungkook?" Taehyung asked softly, "Did he do something? I swear to go I will kill him if he did."

Jimin shook his head frantically, voice coming out quiet, "I-It's not Jungkook."

"Then what is it?"

Jimin shrugged.

"Jimin, you've got to give me something to go off of. I'm not a mind reader."

Jimin shrugged.

Taehyung sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, becoming slightly irritated. He drew in a deep breath and shakily exhaled, "Please. Just tell me so I can help."

"Y-You can't help."

"What's with all this cryptic shit? You're not dying, are you?"


"Then what is it?"

Jimin took a shaky breath. He knew the best option was to probably tell Taehyung that he saw the journal entry. He should probably apologize- for using his computer and for not recuperating his feelings.

Instead, he let out a shaky, "I've g-got to go."

Then he was out the door, ignoring Taehyung's calls and panting loudly. He ran down the stairs, not slowing until he was at the lobby of the dorm building. He came to a stop just outside the building. He put his hands on his legs and panted, doubling over.

His wrist hurt.

"Shit." Jimin muttered, not wanting to deal with the killer pain that would begin shooting up his arm and down to his finger tips. He didn't want to deal with it in public, anyway.

It was too far to his dorm. He'd never make it in time, especially not when the tingling is starting to set in, but going back into Taehyung's dorm wasn't an option. Definitely not after that grand exit.

He bit his lip. The tingling got stronger. He looked around, vision going blurry a bit. He didn't want to make a scene.

Jimin shakily made his way to the alley between two buildings, taking refuge next to a dumpster. The pain was worse now. He grabbed his shirt with his good hand and clenched it in his teeth, mostly to muffle the screams, partly so he wouldn't bite his tongue off.

The excruciating pain came next. It shot up and down his arm, making his fingers curl painfully. He whimpered loudly, sounding like a wounded puppy through the cloth. His vision blurred. He shut his eyes. He felt like someone had taken his arm and twisted it with no remorse, not stopping until the bone had snapped and was sticking out through his skin. He staggered against the wall, sinking down until he hit the dirty floor below. He let out more whimpers and muffled screams.

The pain left.

Jimin cradled his arm to his chest, drawing his knees up as he knocked his head back against the wall. His shirt rose up with the action and Jimin clenched it tighter in between his teeth.

The pain came back.

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