❝SMILE.
That shit is contagious.❞
||warning:
hello..this is my shortest chapter
ever..apologies eveyone
to my girlies
xxthelastending and Balyumruk
thanks for not abandoning me
and for the virtual x's and o's
especially the constant
reassurance..i'm actually scared
publishing this because i
haven't written anything
in a while..
♔
You should stop.
I can't.
You must stop.
I can't.
You needed to stop.
I wouldn't want to stop.
Park Jimin knew his current fixation should end the instant it started, and yet every attempt he made to keep distance only managed to draw himself closer. Not close enough. Not yet. It was too early to proceed and careful timing is vital to reach his intent. Every calculated plans, present progress included, will become nothing if the wheels should be turned in haste. Slow but sure. His years in medicine has imprinted those words deep within his consciousness and they held their merit.
He can wait. For now.
Be satisfied with what you have. He reasoned to the strong want slowly clawing out its way to the surface. Logic over caprice. Acting on impulse will do him no benefit at this point and the probability of failure might increase ten folds if ever he were to give in – and he wasn't even halfway done.
Patience. Patience. Patience. With much reluctance, Jimin averted his gaze from across the room and focus to what he should be doing instead. Picking up the red biro, he leafed through the idle pile of research papers, essay sheets and the like, long overdue to be read and marked. Not a single page was touched as he was too engrossed staring over the subject of his attention.
It came to the point of obsession that his early Friday mornings were spent in the university library just to satiate his compulsive desire. There was a wee bit of indulgence, even just by watching from afar. And that was all that he can do - at least for now.
As per usual, he was seated by the alcove at farthest corner, where he can silently do what he came to do out in the open without being too obvious. Today, however, the place was unusually brimmed, making him shift all his attention to the tedious task of reading his advisory class' preliminary thesis outlines. What joy.
Displeasure was clearly written on his lopsided face, the doctor guessed as much as to what the thick reams of soft-bound paper contained. Heaps of shit, figuratively. No, that was not an exaggeration of some sort nor an excuse to avoid work. A week prior, one of his student advisee copied a whole excerpt from Wikipedia in verbatim and took credit of it, it would have been less of a shame if he chose a better reference site to plagiarise. So, it will not be much of surprise for him if he reads copy-pasted information from eHow and AsktheDoctor.com. Deciding to put his critiques to words, he reluctantly opened the first page of what he called medical abomination.
After hours of continuous browsing, making annotations, and almost rewriting everything, the once neat printed papers were now littered with red ink, arrows, lines, and cursive letters scribbled everywhere. Jimin's mind was drained, every inch of muscles weighed down, his fingers subdued and stiff from too much writing. He leaned back on the chair as he rolled his shoulders to ease their tension from hunching down for a long time. A few seconds later, his eyes closed, giving in to exhaustion.
Soon enough, his vision began embracing the growing darkness, slipping between separate states of slumber and wakefulness. The rest of his senses worked twice harder to compensate in the absence of the other, making him half aware of his surroundings. He breathed in, then out; inhaling the fragrant scent of leather and paper melded together, along with the fine dust dissipated in the air. His cool skin welcomed in earnest gratitude the warmth of the late spring sun filtering through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, penetrating into the thin layer of his turtleneck jumper. Snug and toasty, he could curl into a ball and sleep to oblivion.
The collective sound of hushed conversations mixing with silent noises of pages turned and pens scraped were like soft melodies lulling him more to sleep. Noise offered him comfort that silence could not. He favoured it better than the placid stillness, or more like he avoided being surrounded by the deafening quiet like plague. Because it is when he hears them the loudest.
The voices.
Voices of blame, guilt and mostly of regret.
Before Jimin fell down the endless pit of remembering how they started, the gentle shuffling nearby brought him back to present-day. Opening his heavy lids, his eyes were met by a pair of heavily made-up ones.
"Dr. Park, I haven't seen you in a while," she chirped, curling her cherry-painted lips into a pout. "I have been leaving you messages but you never got back on any of them."
One quick glance told him that she was one of his many casual hook-ups. And maybe a one good fuck at second glance of her voluptuous curves, double D breasts and puckered lips begging to be kissed repeatedly. She could pass as plastic render of a brunette Barbie doll. Too bad he doesn't sleep with anyone twice. She may be attractive but tasting the same thing more than once is too dull for his liking.
Commitment has always been a foreign concept for him. Besides, why would he let himself get shackled by such atrocity when could indulge in the liberty of screwing whoever he wants, whenever he wants. The only thing he wasn't really keen of is when they get too attached and get too deluded into thinking that they were the one who could change his whorish lifestyle.
She could be one of those fantasy freaks or she's simply after for an early morning shag. Either way, he couldn't care less.
"Been busy."
It was a short response. Although pleasant, it did not match any of her enthusiasm at all. If his nonchalance was not taken as rejection, it only encouraged her to latch onto his arm. Either she did not get the hint or she's just too damn stupid.
"But I'm sure you could make time and help me with my Biology homework." The woman, whose name he has yet to remember, nor will he bother knowing, batted her thick mascaraed lashes that reminded him of dirty cobwebs stuck together. She spun her slender body towards him, the provocative, low-cut dress she was wearing shifted as she moved, exposing a generous amount of flesh in full view.
"And maybe help me out with other less boring things too," she added with a playful wink.
He almost gagged. She was way too close for comfort and he was getting drowned in the heavy stench of her floral perfume. He has to get rid of her. Soon. Like right now. But the 'how' of doing it without creating too much drama was a big a question mark. By now, he should be an ace at rejecting women considering the number he slept with. And yet he couldn't be bothered understanding how their fickle minds work.
He breathed out, bracing himself for the ruining. "Sorry but – "
"He's with me." A female voice beat him to it. Looking up to see who it belonged to, the blond was not able to hold back a strangled moan.
Of course. Add one sex-crazed maniac and a psycho bitch to the equation of the overall shittery because why the fuck not?
"I'm afraid you'll have to find some other man to fill up your lose hole. Actually, make that two, I'm sure one wouldn't be enough, yeah?" Her tone was condescending, a great contrast to her oh-so-innocent physical constitution of matching plaid skirt and blazer.
He did not quiet catch the newcomer's muted onslaught following the insult, but whatever she whispered to the brunette made the latter visibly break out cold sweats. " – sorry honey, I believe it's time for you to begone and spare Dr. Park of herpes."
It may have disappeared as quickly as it came, he did not miss the devious glint that flashed through her deep brown pools the moment she shifted her eyes on him. The minuscule gesture was enough to make Jimin's blood curdle and insides churn, reminding him how much of a scheming bitch she can be.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" She asked - her smile was sweet; her words were venom. "Now, now. You wouldn't want the school to know what really went down last summer would you? I'm sure mommy dearest will have a hissy fit if the news gets to her." Jimin watched how her face contorted into a hideous smirk, looking sickeningly out of place on her soft angelic features.
"So, scram." There was a brief pause. A millisecond later for what seemed like on hours end, she left; strutting out rather furiously in her five-inch stiletto heels with couple dozens of male heads following her retreating figure, Jimin's included. Those perky breasts and round ass must have been ample reasons on one of those drunken nights for him to lose logic and fuck up – or fuck her.
The she-devil clicked her tongue in disapproval, drawing him out of his daydream to face the personification of his nightmare. "Men and their tastes. I really don't understand why they always go for mindless whores. Stupid must be very in this season. Women such as her should donate their brains for good cause. Brand new, never been used.
"Mind if I sit here?" She asked, already pulling the chair opposite his. He winced at the unpleasant noise of metal dragged against hardwood floorboards.
Jimin eyed her as she did, observing the latest persona she portrayed. Her once dark hair was now in a vivid shade of red, crimson tendrils hung off of her loose ponytail to frame her delicate face. He thought the colour befitted its bearer: both were embodiment of malice, deception and intense desire to get whatever she wanted. With knee length skirt and pearl necklace, she gave out that pure, school girl appearance that he knew for certain that she never was or can ever be. She could be an actress by trade and lying would be her forte.
"Tell me," she started. "Is this the reason why you went back here? To whore around and end up in an orange jumpsuit?" Straight to the point, no bullshit as always. Seven years and nothing has changed.
She did not even let him respond, nor was he planning to. Because one, any form of response meant acknowledging her existence, which meant dealing with her shit; and two, he will have to play the game hence following her rules. He once played, lost, and payed a hefty price – something he ought to pay for the rest of his life.
"Sleeping with your students is foolish but screwing the Dean's underage daughter was beyond idiotic. And here I thought you were the smarter one, Dr. Park."
Still, he didn't say anything. "What would uncle say?" She persisted, not fazed by his lack of reaction but somewhat loving the challenge. Park Jimin was not a man of too many affects to begin with, or rather of showing them outright anyway. Just like her, he's had many faces kept hidden and very little masks shown. She made her into that. "Well, not that you really care about your father's opinions. In fact, you would have been glad if that should spite him," she added as an afterthought.
"Let's try again. How about..." the redhead trailed off whilst tapping her chin, pretending to be hard in thought on how to finish the sentence though she already knew what to say.
"...Alice."
His left brow twitched upon hearing the name; it gave him away and that was her cue to carry on with further assault. God, how she finds pleasure in pushing his buttons – twisting and turning strings until they snap, fucked up beyond repair.
"How would precious, little Alice react? When she discovers her beloved Jiminie has been bedding dumb bimbos like disposable Kleenex wipes." It agitated him. How he can feel the bitter taste of the name escaping her lips, how the mere mention of it made suppressed emotions stir from within, aggregating into one of furious rage. He was seeing red, hatred slowly creeping up; if he's not careful, it might spill out, overflowing through the cracks of his crumbling façade. Somehow, he managed to keep his act together.
But he should know had another thing coming. The person sitting across him knew she had won beforehand, one last push and she'll get what she came for. "Will she cry? Of course, she would. Always been a cry baby, Alice." Her words spoke more than a distant memory, for a fraction of a second, Jimin thought he heard longing between the lines, a premise he dismissed straightaway. Because cold-hearted, apathetic bitches such as herself are devoid of melancholy, or of any sort of sentiment at all.
"Not that it matters now anyway since she's already – "
That was the tipping point.
She may have long crossed the line, but now she had trampled what's beyond it.
He jolted forward, slamming both palms on the hard surface of the table. The action was instantaneous, it flung his chair backwards then crashing with a dull thud on the wooden floor. His sudden outburst invited some unwelcomed spectators; curious glances shot their direction and silent murmurs followed, some pretending to watch discreetly by the sidelines while others craned their necks to get a better view. All the attention directed towards him had faded into the background of his own space, he was too intoxicated with anger that other matters were deemed irrelevant.
Red. Everything went red. Waves of fury hit him hard, spreading in rapid succession like wildfire until his vision blurred and his breathing shallowed. Fingers coiled into clenched fists, he wants nothing more than to wrap them around her frail neck, extinguishing the flames of anguish and wrath he carried like a cross for seven years along with the dancing lights in her eyes. Pure hatred - it smouldered in every fibre of his being, completely claiming possession over him. He hated her.
No lesser than he hated himself.
"Fuck you, Roseanne."
He gritted through clenched teeth, spatting her name out in extreme distaste. As expected, she did not bat an eyelash. His hostility was only returned by a soft, mirthful laughter, her pretty face etched with clear amusement. It was the most genuine guise she had shown so far.
"Why of course, Christian. Can't deny my fiancé that, can I?"
note:
more jimin next chapter