Property | P. JM

- Seven

When I didn't answer, she left my room, and my phone beeped from my bag. I reached for my pouch and took my phone out.

Eunwoo
Yuri Noona and I miss you so much. When will you be back? Yoongi came and asked about you again.

I smiled softly. I miss them too. I wish everything were just normal. I miss my old life, where I just worried about my grades and not like this. I worry about my parents and the lies I've been telling, Jimin and his family finding out the truth, Yoongi's judgement, and Eunwoo and Yuri finding out the truth about who I was. I'm living with so much to worry about, and it's too fucking much.

I typed in my reply and sent it to him.

Me
I miss you too, guys.

Me
I will be back soon, I promise.

Yoongi, did he worry about me that he always comes to the solar nights to ask about me? After all, we hadn't seen each other, and when we did, I was working for his friend as a fucking waitress. Yoongi knew the truth about me except for the fact that I had to get married.

He will understand me, right? I know he will; after all, he knows my situation with my mom. Ah, yes, Mom. I wonder if she tells the same bullshit on Yoongi; did he tell Yoongi that I ran away as well?

A knock snapped me out of my thoughts; the door opened, and I saw Jimin walk in. I remained laying on my bed with heavy sighs.

I wonder what is running through his head; actually, when I came home, I expected him to throw a fit and ask me questions such as

Where have you been?

You're with Jihyun again?

Questions like that, but he didn't.

"I'm sorry, Jimin; I didn't mean to forget our plan. I got excited when your brother came. I'm sorry. I rushed back home when we got back; I didn't even bother to wear my slippers," I softly said, and I felt the bed sink, and Jimin was sitting beside me and looking down at me. Even at this angle, he looks ethereal. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his eyes spoke hundreds of emotions.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked, my voice small, and he cursed. He pushed me lightly and laid beside me. He grabbed my hand and played with my finger. I flipped over, my cheeks pressed against the mattress, just like Jimin's position.

"I got so worried," he breathed. "Ah fuck, I can't stay mad at you," he said, and I was shocked when he pulled me into his arms. He hugged me, but after a few moments, I relaxed on his touch, and his hand ran through my hair. I closed my eyes as I felt his lips press against my forehead, and he settled on cuddling me in his arms. His scent calms me down, except for the erratic pounding of my heart against my chest.

"Do I make you nervous? I could almost hear your heart beating loudly," he whispered, and my cheeks heated up. I closed my eyes and pinched him softly. He stood up and helped me up. He looked at me, and he licked his lower lips and slowly bit them, and I was just fucking staring at his lips the whole time he did that.

Luckily, Jimin didn't notice as he stood up and grabbed the tray. There's a sandwich and a glass of water and juice with some fruits in a bowl.

"Eat this first. Our dinner will be served here later," he said, and I nodded.

"Thank you," I say softly. Jimin dragged the table to the edge of my bed so I could eat properly, and he just watched me with his infamous serious expression. When he is like this, I always wonder: What things do run through Jimin's head?

"I don't think we can go roaming with that wound in your foot," Jimin voiced out, and I looked at my bandaged foot and looked at him.

"This is a small wound, Jimin; I can manage," I said, and he sighed. He didn't say anything, and I continued eating. He was just looking at me, and I'm so anxious that I had to chew my foot gracefully. When I finished, Jimin took the table away, and he moved to the couch. I followed him, and when I did, he pulled me towards him and got even more nervous. He wrapped an arm around my waist, and he almost lifted me so I could sit on his lap, but luckily he didn't.

"Y/N-ah," he whispered lowly, and I got chills with his voice. His lips slightly brushed against my cheeks, and I was blushing really hard.

Oh my god, what is he doing?

I only hummed, afraid to even speak; I might stutter. I even blushed furiously when he pressed a soft kiss on my temple and pulled me even closer to him. His hands felt warm against my shirt, and it was nice.

"Please don't get hurt anymore," he whispered softly, and my lips curled lightly into a smile.

"I'm so scared to see you get hurt; just the thought of you hurting terrifies me," he said, and I closed my eyes and leaned against his shoulders.

"Please don't get hurt anymore," he repeated, and he intertwined our hands together and pressed even more chaste kisses on my cheeks. I breathed softly and didn't say anything. I'm so contented that it actually terrifies me.