Burning Up (M.YG+ P.JM)

Ch 07| The final note

Last night had been a sleepless one to the overly anxious Park Jimin, who had stared at his ceiling through the entire night, and continued to do so, though the sun had risen. It was only a few moments ago that he had shifted his position, so that he now faced the door, and the clock that was fixed above it.

This morning too, roughly at six forty five, he had begun to hear the sizzling of a frying pan. Yoongi hadn't been this early in the last two days, but still, the sounds of movement that came from the kitchen outside of his door ignited a small, almost negligible flame of hope.

He hoped that Min Yoongi had come back.

Though Jimin did not want to admit it, Yoongi was the first and only person  he had maintained a single conversation with. Every other attempt of his had failed at the mention of his name. Everybody knew, and everyone feared the boy who burned.

Everyone, except Min Yoongi. 

And now he knew, and it scared Jimin. It scared him that his name might have just cost him the only chance he might've gotten to make a friend.

It was seven forty five, when the sizzling finally stopped, and Jimin felt his heart jump into his throat. It beat wildly, and his breaths came in short and sharp. He clutched the edge of the blanket with force, making smoke erupt from his fingertips, biting down on his lip. His eyes were squeezed shut, but the pain that coursed through his body from the exertion was overpowered by his nerves.

No knock came. Instead, the door creaked open.

Jimin's heart shattered into a million pieces. Tears escaped from his closed eyes, and crawled down his cheeks, creating ugly wet lines down his cheeks. It hurt.

"Good morning honey!!" His ears caught the melodic voice of his eomma.

"I don't wanna eat eomma," He said, voice breaking against his attempts to hold it in. HE broke down into dry sobs, shoulders shuddering violently as he heaved one painful breath after another. Smoke surrounded him, the wisps caressing his cheeks as the tears evaporated with a slight hiss, only to be replaced by more.

He felt himself burning, his breath turning ragged, as he couched and spluttered, trying to get himself to stop. He still wasn't at that point where he would be fine with death. Through the pain, through the heartbreak, Jimin still wanted to live.

Mrs. Park panicked at his son's behavior. Had he not wanted to see her? She watched helplessly, trying to soothe her son without touching him. It was hard to watch your son cry, and not be able to do anything about it. She tried talking to him, but at each attempt, he would just sob harder. So she waited, and watched, trying to hold back the sobs of her own.

After a while, Jimin reduced into a sniffling mess, but the smoke had died down. He was pale, and he looked sick, but he was still alive.

Sniff.

 "Why did he leave eomma? He asked, voice sore from crying.

"Am I really a mon-"

"Hey, hey, stop that," Mrs. Park said, sitting at the edge of Jimin's bed. "Let me speak will you?"

Sniff. He looked at his eomma through his red swollen eyes.

"Nobody left sweetie, I just wanted to bring  you breakfast,"

"Wh-what?" He asked, sitting up with some effort.

"Yoongi's here honey, he's not leaving,"

Sniff. "He- he's not?" He asked eyes slowly widening, a slight tint creeping up to his cheeks, just like the little hint of hope that mixed again into his voice.