No Strings

(EXTRA) Part 5 - Jimin's POV

"What's wrong?" Jimin says, fighting the urge to push hair from your face. You open your lips, and he imagines any number of things you might say.

What you actually say is, "You're squishing me."

"Oh." Jimin blinks, the moment lost. Swirled away by the snow. He quickly steps back, re-wrapping his one arm about your waist. "My car is this way, come on."

As your steps falter, your words become jumbled, Jimin comes to a halt. Placing one arm beneath your knees, he lifts you against him. Your warmth, your weight are comforting. When your face finds the crook of his neck, fingertips curling into his hair, Jimin's heart stutters again. He can hardly breathe, hardly concentrate as he carefully lowers you into his car.

Jimin accidentally blows a stop sign on the way home. Just drives right through it, berating himself after for looking at you and not the road. Luckily, no one else is around on a snowy night like tonight. No one else is there and nothing happens, but from then on, Jimin keeps both eyes firmly on the road.

Halfway to your apartment, Jimin changes direction. Seokjin mentioned he was staying at Minsun's and Jimin doubts you want to see them, as drunk as you are. Taking a sharp left, Jimin heads to his place and once there, helps you up the stairs and into his bedroom. Leaving you curled on your side, he disappears into the kitchen.

As Jimin runs the water tap, feet pound from his bedroom. His bathroom door is flung open, slamming the wall before he hears sudden retching. Quickly, Jimin sets his water down on the counter. Half-running into his bedroom, he skids to a stop in front of the open door. You look up at him, collapsed in a heap by the toilet and Jimin fights back a smile. This is not the time for that.

"No," you groan, lowering your head to nestle against your chest. "Don't come in. Go away."

In Jimin's mind, he calls you his own. In his mind, he tells you everything will be okay. In actuality, Jimin does neither. Merely walks to the sink and wets a washcloth, then kneels. His hands find your face, pushing hair behind your ears and Jimin hopes you do not notice him trembling.

After wiping you clean, he slides fingers through your hair and pulls it into a ponytail. Wrapping a hair tie around this, he ties it into a knot. "At least you made it to the toilet," he smiles, unable to keep his comments to himself.

Your voice is small when you mumble, "I'm sorry."

Jimin pulls back to see you. Your eyes are brimming with tears and Jimin swallows. He wants to help you, help this, but does not know how. See, this is exactly why he cannot tell you how he feels. Jimin does not know how to be a boyfriend.

The most he can do for you is sit here, be your friend and assist in whatever way you will let him. Gently, Jimin takes your hands and places them on either side of his toilet.

"Don't mention it." Jimin pushes himself to stand, returning the cloth to his sink and cleaning it once more.

Your response drifts from the floor, "What are you doing?"

When Jimin looks over, your skin is clammy. Entire body convulsing, you gag over the bowl. "Get out," you whisper, eyes tightly shut. "I don't want you to see when I –"

You throw up, directly into the toilet and Jimin immediately drops back to his knees. His hand finds your back, rubbing while your body expels the rest of the alcohol. "Shh, it's okay," Jimin murmurs, continuing to soothe. "You're doing great."

Jimin's knees are pressed on either side of your body, tight around your legs but nothing about this is sexual. No, nothing is desirable in the least and yet, this is when Jimin realizes what deep shit he is in. No part of him wants to run away from you, he just wants to be here. He wants you messy and beautiful and thoroughly his. Slightly dazed by that thought, Jimin presses his washcloth to your forehead.

When you sink back on your heels, your head falls on Jimin's shoulder. "I'm sorry." Your lower lip trembles. "Really."

Jimin does not answer, shaking his head. Moving gently away, he lets you sit up on your own before rising to his feet. In the kitchen he finds the glass of water he abandoned and Jimin grabs this quickly, along with some pills.

"Take this," he instructs, returning to the bathroom. "Drink this."

Monitoring you carefully, Jimin watches you drink. He misses the warmth of your body on his, but is relieved to find you sentient once again. Your gaze remains firmly on his, softening the longer you look at him.

Jimin does not know what that means, does not let himself jump to any conclusions. Instead, he concentrates, hands occasionally finding yours to tilt the glass up. "See if you can keep that down," he murmurs.

Once the glass is gone, Jimin helps you to stand. You do not object, oddly silent while he brings you into his bedroom. Jimin holds his breath the entire way, certain you will push him away. He is certain you will make some sarcastic comment, a quip to lighten the mood but you do not. Instead, your eyes are soft, bottom lip held gently between teeth while he changes you. You hold onto his arms, only letting go when the sleeves of Jimin's t-shirt fall down around you.

Lowering you onto his bed, Jimin tucks you in. He stands like that for a moment before leaving, disappearing into the kitchen to fill another glass of water. Once this is full, Jimin lowers his forehead against the counter. Letting the cool granite soothe his skin, he curls his hands tightly around the stone.

This means nothing. That look meant nothing. You meant to call Namjoon, tonight. Not him.

After another inhale, another exhale, Jimin pulls himself upright. He heads to his bedroom and sets the water down on the bedside, making sure you are asleep before moving on to the clean-up. First his sink, then the toilet and floor. Jimin arranges your purse and clothing in his armchair before changing into his boxers.

For some odd reason, Jimin undresses in the bathroom. It feels too intimate, too open to change into pajamas beside you. That is something Jimin has not done in a long time, and his heart sticks in his throat when he finally lowers himself on the bed.

He stares at you for a moment, watching. Your hair is fanned across his pillowcase, half-caught behind one ear and Jimin wonders if you are uncomfortable like that. Without thinking, his fingertips brush over your temple. Jimin checks to see if you have a fever, but then you turn into the palm of his hand.

Your skin presses to his, toes just brushing his shins and Jimin stares at you, wide-eyed when your eyelids flutter. "Jimin," you exhale, nuzzling closer. "He's not... you."

"What?" Jimin whispers. On the inside, he is screaming. "Who isn't?"

You do not respond, breath already soothed into sleep. Your chest rises and falls, cheek half-smushed to the pillow and Jimin realizes this is a conversation which will have to wait until morning. Very softly, he lowers his head to the pillow, heart continuing to beat like a hummingbird. It thrums with the quiet intensity of the world because for a moment, he thought he understood.

Now he is not so sure.

It is a long time before Jimin falls asleep.