No Strings

(EXTRA) Part 5 - Jimin's POV

There is ensuing mumbling, something Jimin does not hear. Eleven more seconds pass and then you reappear, muttering to yourself, "Jokes on you. I stopped two drinks – hours ago, I –"

"Y/N." Jimin slams his car in reverse because, fuck it. He will drive this entire town if need be, in order to find you. "The bar name?"

"Smith's," you sing-song. There is a soft thump on your end of the phone. "Are you in your car?"

Jimin does not respond, pressing harder on the gas. "Stay put, Y/N."

He hangs up. Tossing the phone to the side, he winces when he realizes the phone is Namjoon's. He left his apartment with the wrong phone – well, fuck. Namjoon can kill him in the morning. Right now, Jimin is more concerned about finding you. He barely remembers driving to the bar, barely remembers parking before he dashes inside.

The lights within the venue are dim, music loud but Jimin spots you immediately. You sit alone in a booth, legs crossed happily underneath you. You stare down at your shirt, frowning, as though wondering how that stain got there. When you look up and see him, your lips part in a smile.

Jimin knows this is because you are drunk. Knows it is because your inhibitions are lowered, because he is a friendly face – but you just look so happy to see him.

Sometimes, it is nice to pretend.

Reaching your side, Jimin crouches down to eye-level. "Well, fuck," he says, gently grasping your arm. Jimin just needs to touch you, make sure you are here – you are safe. "Are you okay?"

Rather than be angry like he thought you would be, you giggle. Scooting towards the edge of the booth, you grasp his hand with yours. "Jimin," you smile, fingers tightening around his. "Come dance with me."

Jimin's heart begins to pound. The noise is so loud, he cannot help but wonder that you do not hear it. "Nope," he says, shaking his head despite his desire to give in. He wants to dance with you, to be with you, but not like this. "We're going home."

A pout crosses your lips and Jimin very nearly laughs, wanting nothing more than to kiss that expression from your face. He stands, pulling you up and you stumble, falling forward to wrap your arms around his neck. Jimin freezes, his body flush against yours. He can feel every part of you, every damn curve and – well, fuck.

"Jimin," you giggle, pressing closer. "Jimin, Jimin, Jimin, Jimin."

Jimin ignores the thudding of his heart to grab the purse you abandoned on the middle of the table. "Yes?" he grunts, struggling to stay upright. It is no easy feat; not with both you and the straps of your purse wrapped around him.

When you boop him on his nose, Jimin stills and looks down. "You're cute," you giggle, eyes bright. "Why are you so cute?"

Once again, Jimin reminds himself you do not mean it. Not in the way he would. "You'll pay for that later," he growls, narrowing his eyes. "Not tonight, though. Where's your coat?"

You do not answer, too distracted by someone or something over his shoulder. Jimin sighs. "Take this," he says, unwrapping his own jacket. Sliding your arms into this, he pulls you outside.

It is still snowing, which seems to please you as you spin in a circle. Throwing your head back to laugh, the sight makes Jimin's chest clench. It is painful to be with you sometimes. You are so happy, so carefree, so easily beautiful in a way that makes him ache. He is too busy watching you though, because you slip, nearly fall and Jimin rushes forward to wrap his arms around you.

Your body smacks against his chest and you look up, slightly dazed. There are snowflakes caught in your lashes, lower lip jutted in pain.

For a moment, Jimin allows himself to forget. He forgets that you are not his girlfriend, that he picked up the phone tonight by accident. He forgets that you did not call him, did not want him. For one moment – for right here, right now – you are in his arms, and that is all. You are pressed to his body, looking up at him in a way which makes him forget you do not love him back.