No Strings

Part 8

You wake up the next morning before Jimin does. It is not one of those easy wake ups where first one eye opens, then the other. No, you wake with a cold clarity – that sudden, sinking sensation which can only mean one thing: you have fucked up.

Slowly, your gaze drifts to where Jimin is still asleep, one arm draped lazily over his pillow. He lies flat on his stomach, face turned sideways so you stare at his sleeping face. He looks so peaceful like this, so quiet. You have the sudden urge to trace the curve of his jaw, press your lips to the corner of his mouth, wake him up that way.

Fear washes over you then, cold and clammy because after last night – you swallow, continuing to stare. The way you kissed him, the way you slept with him. The feelings you have have become impossible to ignore and finally, you see what you have been avoiding for weeks.

You are falling for Park Jimin.

Jimin, your best friend. It is wrong, so very wrong because you promised yourself you would keep everything separate. You promised yourself you would not even consider Jimin to be more than what he is. He is nothing but a friend with benefits, a casual fling.

But now, here you are, staring at him with a clarity that strips you bare. When you and Sungmin kissed, your first thought was of Jimin. When you were sick, Jimin took care of you. He is the person on your mind when you wake, the last person you text before going to sleep. He is never far from your thoughts, your mind, your heart.

Jimin.

Your feelings are not those of a friend, not even a best one. It is something more, something heartbreakingly pure and wonderful – and also devastating, since Jimin does not feel the same way about you. For a second, you allow yourself to fantasize. You consider the opposite, imagining that he loves you. You daydream about him opening his eyes and smiling, pulling you into his arms to kiss your temple.

The image breaks, shattered by reality because Jimin does not want that, he never has. He has said as much to you on multiple occasions. The entire time you have known him – nearly five years – Jimin has never once had a serious girlfriend. Flings, sure. Girls he has slept with multiple times, yes. But a girlfriend? Someone Jimin takes home to his parents, introduces to his friends, says that he loves?

Never.

You are not the exception, you are the rule. You are just another girl who thought herself impervious to his charms, thought she could change a person who clearly does not want to be changed. Staring at Jimin's sleeping form, you realize what you have to do.

Slowly, so slow it takes nearly a whole minute, you extricate yourself from his bed. You slide forward inch by inch, until you sit close to the edge.

When your toes touch the floor, you glance at your scattered clothing. It brings back memories of last night; Jimin's eyes on yours, lips on yours, his hands in your hair. He acted differently – didn't he? You want to say yes, want to think there was something more to his gaze but truth be told, you do not know if you can trust your own memory.

Every thought is clouded by the feelings. You cannot look at Jimin without your stomach sinking. All you want to do is climb back into bed, push hair from his face and kiss him until he wakes up. Jimin would never think these thoughts about you, though; you are his friend and occasional fuck buddy – but that is it.

Which is why you bend, scooping your clothes off the floor and hopping into your jeans. Sliding your shirt quickly on, you run your tongue over the back of your teeth because it is time to go. As you move towards the door, trying to be as quiet as possible – Jimin turns over in bed.

He mumbles something, pink hair falling forward while his hands reach for the space you once occupied. It makes your heart ache to look at him. He is so warm and perfect and hopelessly Jimin. He does not wake though, frown creasing his brow as he falls back to sleep.