After All This | pjm. ✔️

[29: emotion]

Namjoon led me back to where all the rooms were. We passed by a few of the boys who were getting ready for the day, sad smiles greeting me.

However, Taehyung grabbed my hand and squeezed it for a moment, not even glancing my way. "Take it easy," he said softly. I looked back at him, watching as he walked away.

It was clear they were all stressed. They had every right to be. After all, they were a family. I was just an intruder making a mess of things. The burden of making this better for everyone was on me.

"He's in here," Namjoon whispered, stopping in front of a door. "Don't forget: just work things out. Take all the time you need."

I nodded and thanked him. With that, he patted my shoulder and left to go with the others.

I took a deep breath and stared at the door in front of me. I debated whether or not to knock, but something told me to just walk in. I needed to at least try to be assertive.

I set my hand on the knob and turned it slowly, pushing the door open. The lights were off and the curtains were closed, making it seem almost pitch black inside. I was able to see the silhouettes of the furniture around the room. There was a bed on the other side with a still figure on top, completely silent.

I walked in and closed the door behind me with utmost care. Every move seemed to be a calculated risk of some sort, and if I made the wrong one it would all be over.

I cautiously made my way across the room—my heartbeat quickening with every step that I took. What would he say? What would he do? I stopped right beside the bed and watched as he looked out the window in front of us.

However, Jimin remained unwavering.

There wasn't a sound. There wasn't any movement. There was only the silence that consumed us both. The air was heavy with tension as it almost made it impossible for me to breathe. I was frozen in place, unable to figure out what to do...

The journal.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the leather booklet, trying to be as quiet as possible. My fingers ran across its bumpy cover and against the thick pages, reminding me of the words it contained. I could feel a small knot forming in my throat.

"Here," I managed out. I set the journal down next to him carefully.

Jimin turned his head and stared down at it, seemingly bewildered by its presence. He let out a shaky sigh and picked it up.

"I did all this," he said, sounding defeated. "This was my fault."

I could feel my heart drop at his words, but it didn't disagree. Even though he brought me happiness, he gave me false hope. I expected so much from him, but now he was out of reach—in a completely different world. I just wanted answers.

"Why?" I pleaded, gripping my purse tightly as I looked down at the floor. "Why didn't you talk to me? Why didn't you tell me anything?"

My voice was low and bitter, but I couldn't hold back. I didn't want to. This was my chance to express how much I went through in the last seven years. I was tired of keeping it all inside.

"I don't know," Jimin replied, shaking his head. "Y/N, I'm sorry. I thought-"

"You thought what, Jimin?!" I suddenly blurted out. "That if you forgot about me you wouldn't have to care for me?"

"I've always cared about you, Y/N." He stood up from the bed, making his way towards me. "Don't say that. You know as well as I do that was never the case."

His footsteps were loud against the floor. I instinctively took a few steps back, running into a dresser behind me. Still, I didn't let that stop me. I was furious.

"Well, apparently you do care. A whole lot too," I hissed back. "If I hadn't gone to the concert, you wouldn't have seen me. You wouldn't have sneaked into my apartment and asked for a relationship again! No. No, you would have kept going on with your life not giving a shit about me! That just shows me how much you 'really' care!"

At this point I could feel hot tears stinging the edges of my eyes. I tried my best to blink them away, but it was no use.

"Jimin, just tell me why you didn't say anything. I-!"

"I couldn't! Can't you see?" His voice gradually became louder with each word. "I'm unable to! There's too much going on and I don't have time for keeping in touch!"

I paused.

Did he...

The sadness inside of me dissolved almost instantly. It was like a switch. It was replaced with the heaviest form of rage—something that I had never felt before.

One thing that I never tolerated, ever, were excuses.

Park Jimin had just given me one. The worst one, in fact:

He. Didn't. Have. Time.

I tried to keep my hand still, but it was no use. My patience ran thin.

I felt myself slap him across the face—hard.

A loud 'smack' reverberated off the walls. The silence that immediately followed was frighteningly deafening. I could have sworn that the loudest sound in the room was the beating of my heart hammering against my chest.

Everything froze.

The regret that flooded my body was immense. I had never done that to anyone before, nor did I want to do it again. The fact that it was Jimin made it a whole lot worse. It caused more tears to spring out of my eyes.

I could only stare at the motionless Jimin in front of me; his head turned to the side, still in its post-slap position.

I stood there in fear as he slowly turned to face me, tilting his head ever so slightly. His ghostly silhouette inched its way in my direction, leaving me no room to avoid him.

I pressed myself up against the wall, afraid that he was going to do something similar to me. I wasn't going to complain. I had it coming. I shut my eyes and prepared for whatever was to come, quickly accepting my fate.

I waited for the pain, but there was none.

Instead, I felt the warm touch of Jimin's forehead against mine. His shaky breath brushed against my lips, sending cold shivers down my spine.

"I was scared..." he whispered. His voice was strained and weak. "I was scared, Y/N..."