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kookiewithluv · 1 month ago

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⛈️🤒❤️‍🩹😚 + Jimin pretty please

TITLE: Almost Romantic

PAIRING: jimin x reader

GENRE: rom-com, slice of life(?), Slow burn, Drama

WORD COUNT: 6k

TRIGGER WARNING: none (this is the first time i'm writing something with no trigger warning! hehe)

SUMMARY: After an awkward car ride in the rain, you end up at Park Jimin's fancy place, sneezing and fighting off both a cold and your long-time crush on him.

a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

a/n: Hey Anon! First off, let me apologize for taking forever to get back to you. I mean, wow, it took me so long you'd think I was trying to cure world hunger or something. Honestly, I have no idea what I ended up doing, and after all this time, I can only hope it's halfway decent. If you like it, please tell me so I can stop questioning all my life choices. And thank you for sending a Jimin request because OMG, I am dangerously obsessed with this man. Seriously. Anyway, hope you enjoy it. Luv ya!

The rain hammered down in relentless sheets, drumming against the tin roof of the bus stop above you. The cold air howled through the deserted street, wrapping itself around you like an unwelcome guest. The flickering streetlight cast a pale, ghostly glow, its harsh light accentuating the emptiness around you. You hugged yourself tightly, your arms gripping your sides as if you could hold yourself together.

You shivered, your breath coming out in quick, visible puffs. The dampness seeped through your clothes, clinging to your skin and chilling you to the bone. Drops of water slid down your face, some from the rain, others threatening to spill from your eyes. You blinked them away furiously, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking down. Mina had warned you about staying late at the office, but as always, you thought you knew better. Now you stood here, stranded and freezing, your phone a useless piece of metal in your bag.

A gust of wind tore through the street, whipping your hair into your face and dragging the rain sideways. You turned your head away, teeth chattering. The cold felt like it was pressing in, squeezing the air from your lungs. You couldn’t even hear your own shaky breathing over the roar of the storm.

The faint glow of headlights pierced through the rain, growing brighter as the car approached. Your heart surged with a flicker of hope, and you stumbled forward, arm jerking up to wave frantically. “Please,” you whispered, though your voice was swallowed by the storm. “Please stop.”

The car’s tires splashed through a puddle, sending icy water spraying onto your shoes. Its headlights illuminated you for a split second before sweeping past, leaving you in the dark once more. You stood frozen, your arm still raised as you stared after the fading taillights.

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard, trying to choke back the lump rising in your throat. Your hand dropped slowly to your side, trembling as you clenched it into a fist. The ache in your chest grew heavier, a suffocating weight that pressed against your ribs. A tear slipped free, quickly hidden by the rain streaking down your face. You swiped at your cheeks angrily.

The wind howled again, and you crumpled onto the cold bench behind you, wrapping your arms around you, tightly. Your nails dug into your damp sleeves as your shoulders began to shake. You couldn’t cry—what good would it do? No one was coming. No one ever did. The darkness pressed in closer, whispering that you were alone, as you rocked yourself gently.

Your heart jolted as you caught sight of the same car stopped just a few feet away. Its brake lights glowed faintly in the rain before it suddenly began reversing. The tires splashed through puddles, the sound sharp against the muffled roar of the storm. Before you could process what was happening, the car screeched to a halt right in front of you.

Were you happy? No.

Relieved? Not even close.

Scared? Absolutely.

Your legs locked in place as you stared at the car, your mind racing. Why would someone stop now after ignoring you the first time? The question sent a shiver down your spine. The pounding rain felt distant compared to the thunderous beating of your heart. Every nerve screamed at you to run, but your feet refused to move. You tried to steady your breathing, silently chanting, Stay calm, stay calm, but your chest tightened like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

The car door opposite you creaked open, the noise slicing through the storm like a warning bell. Your body tensed, muscles coiling as if preparing to bolt. But just as quickly, the door slammed shut again. What? Your brows furrowed, and for a fleeting moment, confusion overpowered fear. Is this person okay? Or are they just messing with me?

The passenger window began to lower, gliding down with a soft whoosh. Your breath hitched as a familiar face emerged, half-shrouded in the shadows of the car's interior. Park Jimin. Your boss. Your obnoxiously attractive, arrogant, self-absorbed boss. Relief washed over you like a bucket of icy water, though it was short-lived.

“Get in,” he commanded, his voice low and clipped as he motioned impatiently with his hand. You hesitated, frozen under his sharp gaze, but another gust of wind pushed you forward, your feet dragging against the puddled pavement. The rain soaked you even more as you opened the car door and slid in, trembling from the cold. The interior smelled faintly of leather and expensive cologne, but any sense of comfort was destroyed by his sharp voice cutting through the space.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What the hell are you doing here at this time of night? And why were you walking so damn slow?”

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing despite the exhaustion clawing at you. Of course, his first instinct wasn’t to ask if you were okay but to criticize. You forced a tight-lipped smile, your fingers curling into the damp fabric of your skirt.

“Yes, Mr. Park. I’m perfectly fine,” you bit out, the words dripping with sarcasm you tried to mask behind a strained politeness. Your fake smile wavered as you glanced at him, silently debating whether strangling him would be worth losing your ride home.

Jimin scoffed, shaking his head slightly, as though reading your thoughts. His eyes trailed over your face, lingering for a moment before they dropped lower. You noticed the shift in his expression too late. His gaze flicked to your collarbone, then downward. His eyes widened briefly before he snapped his head forward, clearing his throat with a harsh sound.

Confused, you frowned and followed his gaze. Your stomach sank as your eyes landed on the problem. Your white blouse, drenched from the rain, clung to your body like a second skin, and the bright red lace of your bra was clearly visible underneath.

A gasp escaped your lips as your arms flew up instinctively to cover your chest. “Oh my god,” you muttered, turning your body away from him, your face heating despite the cold. You shot him a glare over your shoulder, clutching your arms tightly around yourself.

Jimin rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze entirely. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose as he shrugged off his blazer. Without a word, he leaned over and held it out to you. You snatched it from his hand, your lips twisting into a scowl.

“You could’ve stopped the car near me,” you muttered under your breath, slipping the warm fabric over your shoulders. The faint scent of his cologne clung to it. So... manly.

His head snapped toward you, brows furrowed. “So, it’s my fault now?”

“Duh!” you shot back, pulling the blazer tighter around yourself as if it could shield you from his attitude.

“And what about the fact that you were walking so maddeningly slow? Like you were planning to camp out there all night?”

Your jaw clenched, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Shut up,” you hissed, your voice low but dripping with frustration.

Jimin’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting in mock disbelief. “Did you just—”

“Yes, yes, yes! I just told you to shut uuuupppp!” you yelled, throwing your hands in the air. Your voice echoed sharply inside the car, silencing him completely. The weight of your outburst hit you like a tidal wave, embarrassment creeping up your neck. You turned your face away, heat flooding your cheeks. Great. Now I look like a lunatic.

He stared at you, stunned, his lips slightly parted as though he couldn’t quite process what had just happened. His wide eyes and slack jaw only made you angrier. You could practically feel his judgment radiating off him, and it made you want to crawl under a rock—or strangle him slowly and thoroughly.

“Stop staring and start the damn car,” you snapped, your voice cracking slightly.

His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he blinked, shaking his head. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, and he hurriedly looked away, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Fine,” he muttered, starting the engine with a low rumble.

The car began to move, the rain now a blurred sheet outside the windows. Silence settled between you, heavy and awkward, broken only by the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers. You sank back into the seat, pressing your hand to your forehead as a dull ache throbbed at your temples. A cold shiver raced down your spine, and you took a shaky breath, hoping it would settle your nerves.

“How long, Mr. Park?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the fight in you momentarily drained.

“Not far,” he replied, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “My house is just a few blocks away. We’ll be there soon.”

Your heart stopped. You sat up straighter, your hands clutching the blazer tightly. “What the hell do you mean, your house?”

He spared you another glance, his brows knitting together in mild confusion. “I’m taking you home,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

“Whose home?” you nearly screeched, pulling the blazer tighter around you as though it could somehow protect you from this insanity.

“Mine,” he said simply, his eyes darting back to the road.

"Home. Your home," you repeated, your tone sharp as you gestured toward him. "I wanted to go to my home."

Jimin’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw ticking in irritation. “I didn’t know the address,” he said flatly, avoiding your gaze.

“You could’ve just asked!”

“I wanted to, but you yelled at me to shut up.”

“And so your brilliant solution was to bring me here?” you retorted, throwing your hands up in disbelief.

His eyes snapped to yours, narrowing as he pulled the car to a jerky stop. “Excuse me? I live here. What the hell do you mean by here?” he asked, his voice low and offended, his brows drawing together.

You glared at him, your lips curling into a bitter scowl. “Then why have you stopped in the middle of nowhere?”

Jimin’s lips parted, a humourless laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “I think you’ve been out in the rain too long. Maybe some water leaked into your brain because it’s clearly not working. We are not in the middle of nowhere, you deranged woman.”

Before you could retort, he pushed his door open with a sharp motion and stepped out, slamming it shut behind him. You stared after him in disbelief, his broad back retreating into the rain. Grumbling under your breath, you wrestled with your seatbelt, finally kicking the door open and following him.

The rain hit you like icy needles, soaking through your clothes as you stumbled out of the car. The moment you stepped onto the pavement, you froze, your jaw slack. In front of you stood a towering, modern building, its glass facade gleaming despite the downpour. “Wow,” you muttered under your breath, momentarily forgetting your anger. But then you caught sight of Jimin’s retreating figure, and you cursed under your breath, hiking up your heels to chase after him.

“Of course, you’d leave me behind,” you muttered as your heels clicked against the wet pavement.

Jimin turned his head slightly, flashing you a grin that made you want to slap it off his face. “Oh, you’re here! I thought you’d decided to spend the night in the car,” he teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You narrowed your eyes at him, shivering as you wrapped his blazer tighter around yourself. “Do you have a knife at home?” you asked, your tone casual as you both inside the elevator.

He paused mid-step, his shoulders stiffening slightly. “Yeah… why?”

“Just so I know where to find one,” you replied, tilting your head innocently. “For when you start talking too much rubbish.”

Jimin turned to face you fully, his brows lifting as his mouth parted in shock. For a brief moment, he looked genuinely alarmed. Then, as you burst into laughter at his expression, he sighed in relief, shaking his head.

“You think you’re funny?” he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer to you, his eyes narrowing slightly.

You smirked, lifting your chin. “I think I’m adorable.”

His lips twitched into a smirk of his own as he leaned in, his face now dangerously close to yours. You wanted to step back, but the cold glass of the elevator doors pressed against your back, trapping you. His dark eyes glinted with amusement as he opened his mouth to respond—

And then you sneezed.

Hard.

Right into his face.

The moment froze, your eyes widening in horror as he flinched, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “What the actual hell?!” he yelled, his voice a mixture of disbelief and rage. He stepped back, his face scrunching up in disgust as he muttered a string of curses, switching languages with every expletive. English, Japanese, Chinese, and then a barrage of rapid Korean filled the small elevator.

You stared down at your feet, heat crawling up your neck. “Sorry…” you mumbled, barely audible, too mortified to meet his eyes.

He glared at you, his nostrils flaring. “Sorry? Sorry?!” He stepped forward, looking like he had a whole speech prepared—

But the elevator dinged, its doors sliding open.

For the first time that night, you silently thanked every god you could think of as Jimin stomped out, muttering under his breath. You hurried after him, sneezing again as the cold air hit you.

“Sit,” he barked, pointing to the plush couch in his spacious living room. His voice was sharp, but his eyes softened for a moment as they flicked to your shivering form.

You sat without a word, clutching his blazer tightly around you. Jimin disappeared into hallway, still muttering under his breath. As you sneezed again, you couldn’t help but laugh softly at the ridiculousness of it all, even if he was plotting your demise in the next room.

He came back, dressed in a plain sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, his hair sticking up in messy tufts, like he’d been running his hands through it. Barefoot and casual, he should’ve looked harmless, but instead, he looked annoyingly good. His sharp gaze locked on you as he walked closer, his lips pressed into a tight line, like he had something serious to say. Your throat dried up when he stopped right in front of you, the scent of his and something uniquely him filling the air between you. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, and just as his lips parted to speak—

You sneezed.

Right on his face.

“Women, seriously?” he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk as he wiped the back of his hand against his face.

You scowled, tugging his oversized blazer tighter around yourself. “What? I can’t help it!”

“You can’t help anything. The only thing you can help at is being mean and senseless.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, leaning toward him, ready to unleash your fury—but another sneeze erupted before you could get the words out.

“Eww!” he exclaimed, jerking back like you’d just sprayed him with acid.

He pointed toward the hallway, his expression torn between disgust and resignation. “You, come with me. Before you drown my house with your sneezes.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging after him as he led you through the sleek, modern interior of his house.

“I didn’t ask you to bring me here,” you grumbled, your damp hair sticking to your neck. “You could’ve just dropped me off at my place.”

He turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing in exasperation. “Did you see how hard it was raining? You wanted me to take you home and then drive back through that storm? I could’ve gotten stuck—or worse. You should be grateful!”

You glared at his back, muttering under your breath, “Grateful, my ass.”

Jimin stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a spacious, minimalist bedroom. He disappeared into the walk-in closet without a word, emerging moments later with a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

“Here,” he said, shoving the clothes into your arms. “Change into this.” His voice softened, just for a second, before he added, “Bathroom’s on the right. Don’t take forever.”

You raised a brow as he turned and left without waiting for a response. Rude.

But as you glanced around his room—simple yet elegant with muted tones and clean lines—you couldn’t deny the faint flutter in your chest. It was surreal, standing here, surrounded by the essence of him. Once upon a time, when you’d first started working at the company, you’d harboured the most ridiculous crush on him. Obsessive, even. But you’d gotten over it. Or at least you thought you had.

Quickly peeling off your wet clothes, you slipped into the hoodie and sweatpants. They were far too big, the sleeves swallowing your hands, but they were warm and soft. And they smelled… like him. Clean, woodsy, with the faintest hint of something sharp and intoxicating. You hated how comforting it felt.

Or maybe you didn’t.

When you returned to the living room, he was sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest. His eyes flicked to you, scanning you briefly before he gestured toward the coffee table. “Soup,” he said simply.

Your gaze shifted to the large bowl sitting on the table, steam rising from the golden liquid. Your heart softened a fraction as you sat beside him, the warmth of the soup drawing you in. Without a second thought, you grabbed the bowl and scooped up a spoonful.

The second it touched your tongue, the heat seared your mouth, and you yelped, dropping the spoon back into the bowl. Jimin’s eyes widened, as he shot forward. “What the hell?!” he exclaimed, snatching the bowl out of your hands and placing it back on the table.

Before you could respond, he was in front of you, crouching slightly, his face a mixture of panic and concern. leaning closer. He started fanning your mouth with his hand, his brows furrowed as he muttered under his breath. Then, without warning, he leaned in further and blew.

The cool air hit your lips, and your breath hitched. His face was inches from yours now, his dark eyes focused intently on your mouth. You froze, acutely aware of the way his hand hovered just beneath your chin, steadying you. The moment stretched, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. His gaze flicked to yours, and for a heartbeat, neither of you moved. His lips parted slightly, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Are you blind? C-Can’t you see it’s hot?” he scolded, his voice breaking slightly as he cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly on the couch. His eyes darted away from yours, and for a fleeting moment, you caught the faintest hint of colour creeping up his neck.

You nodded, the sting of embarrassment silencing any snarky retort. Any other day, you’d have torn into him for bossing you around, but now? You couldn’t even muster a glare. Instead, you pressed your palms to your cheeks, only to realize they were burning.

What the hell was wrong with you?

Your mind raced as you sat frozen in place. You’re over him. You’re over him, you chanted silently, willing the blush to disappear. But deep down, you knew the truth—your heart was still as stupid as ever.

And then, just as you thought you could gather yourself, you sneezed again.

His head whipped toward you, eyes narrowing slightly. You braced for the scolding that was surely coming, shoulders tensing as you sucked in a breath.

But instead, he shifted closer.

Your breath hitched.

His gaze softened, his brows knitting together with concern as he leaned in. “Are you really sick?” he asked, his voice quieter this time, almost gentle.

Before you could answer, his hand moved toward your face. You froze as his fingertips brushed your forehead, testing your temperature. His touch was warm—too warm—and your heart thudded violently in your chest.

He frowned, his hand lingering for a moment longer before sliding down to the side of your neck, his thumb grazing your jaw.

That was it. You were doomed.

Your pulse quickened beneath his touch, and you swore he could feel it. His brows furrowed deeper, his expression shifting from mild concern to genuine worry. “You’re turning red,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb moved slightly, tracing an invisible line along your skin. “Do… Do I need to call a doctor?”

The tenderness in his tone almost shattered you. Why did he have to be like this? Why now?

You shook your head quickly, snapping out of your daze and leaning back, desperate to put some distance between you. “No,” you managed to croak, your voice embarrassingly hoarse.

He blinked, his hand falling back to his side as he sat upright. “Oh,” he said, his tone clipped. His shoulders stiffened as if he suddenly realized how close he’d been.

You caught his slight grimace as he scooted away, the small gap between you growing wider.

Your chest tightened, and before you knew it, you were pouting.

His gaze flicked to you, one brow arching in confusion. “What?” he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

You shook your head quickly, too flustered to explain.

“Seriously, what’s wrong now?” he pressed, his brows drawing together again.

But you just shook your head once more, biting your lip to keep from saying something stupid—like how much you’d missed this, how much you wished he’d never pulled away.

And yet, even as he leaned back into his corner of the couch, his gaze lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, his expression unreadable. And that tiny, almost imperceptible pause was enough to make your heart ache with hope.

“You hungry?” he asked, his voice low and casual as he glanced over at you.

“No,” you said quickly, your tone sharper than intended.

His lips quirked up, clearly not believing you. “You sure? I can cook,” he offered, his brows lifting in that way that made his face unbearably soft, like he was trying to coax the truth out of you.

You shook your head firmly. “I’m sure,” you mumbled, shifting your gaze back to the soup in your hands. You’d already eaten, and you knew he had too.

A comfortable silence fell between you. He leaned back on the couch, his head resting against the cushions, eyes fluttering closed. His chest rose and fell evenly, and for the first time since you’d met him, he looked utterly at peace.

And absolutely stunning.

You tried not to stare, but your eyes betrayed you, taking in every detail. The way his jawline looked sharper under the dim light, the soft curve of his lashes resting against his cheeks, and his lips—God, his lips—full and slightly parted, as if he was moments away from whispering something that would undo you.

Your gaze trailed down to his clothes, his sweatshirt slightly rumpled but hugging his shoulders perfectly. His loose, comfy sweatpants sat just right on his hips, and even in such an unassuming outfit, he looked... ethereal.

It wasn’t fair. How could someone look like that just sitting there?

You pulled your eyes away, forcing yourself to look out the glass wall instead. The rain pounded relentlessly against it, streaks of water catching the faint glow of the city lights outside. The storm showed no signs of stopping, and you couldn’t help but regret staying late at the office.

I could’ve finished it all tomorrow, you thought bitterly, tightening your grip on the warm bowl in your hands. Your eyes drifted back to him, unable to help yourself. The question burned at the back of your mind: why had he stayed late? You knew he often worked late, but on busy nights like this, he typically stayed at the office rather than going home. Tonight, though, he’d changed that.

You frowned slightly. What was different this time?

You didn’t know—and couldn’t have known—that the difference was you.

He had seen the storm warning on the news and had sent everyone home early, but you had stayed behind, stubbornly working. He had been about to leave, but seeing you there, so focused, so unaware of the weather worsening, had stopped him in his tracks. Jimin was nothing if not professional, but he had always harboured an unspoken interest in you—a quiet, persistent fondness he never let show.

And now, here you both were.

The silence stretched on, the sound of the rain filling the space between you. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but when you finally opened your mouth to speak, the words were out before you could stop them. And you almost regretted it. Almost.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The question slipped out before you could stop yourself, your eyes widening in surprise at your own words.

Jimin’s eyes flicked open, locking with yours instantly. There was a quiet amusement in his gaze, and his lips tugged up into that soft, teasing smile that made your heart do something you tried to ignore. He didn’t speak right away, just studied you as if he could read everything you weren’t saying.

“No,” he replied, his voice quiet and surprisingly soft. “Why do you ask?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling silly, and looked everywhere but at him—out the window, at your hands, the bowl of soup on the table. Anywhere but him.

He leaned back into the couch, clearly amused, a playful edge to his tone. “Why are you behaving like this?” His smile was still there, small but knowing.

“Like what?” you blurted out, but even as the words left your mouth, you knew it was a bit of a dumb question.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He raised an eyebrow, watching you like you were a puzzle he was determined to figure out.

You stared at him, blinking a few times like he’d just sprouted another head, making his laughter bubble up, soft but genuine.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he teased.

“Because you’re talking weird,” you said, voice a bit sharper than you intended, but your words faltered under his gaze.

He chuckled again, the sound warm and disarming, sending a flutter through your chest. “You’re behaving weird,” he countered.

You let out a frustrated huff and turned away from him, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, hoping the action would somehow shield you from whatever was happening between the two of you.

He chuckled again, and it was like a spark igniting inside you, frustrating and electrifying all at once. You glared at him, but even that seemed pointless when he was looking at you like that—like he could read the thoughts swirling in your head.

The silence that fell was oddly peaceful, but it didn’t sit well with you. You always needed something more. Chaos, noise, anything but stillness. Fidgeting in your seat, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You broke the silence, your voice sounding louder than you intended.

“Mr. Park—”

He cut you off with a soft smile, sitting up slightly. “You can call me Jimin,” he said, the words coming out like an invitation, a subtle challenge in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, hesitant. You glanced away quickly, feeling the heat creep up your neck as you crossed your arms defensively. “Are you sure?”

His gaze didn’t waver, locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel suddenly exposed, vulnerable in a way you couldn’t explain. “Why do you look so unsure?” he asked, his voice gentle but with a teasing edge.

You stiffened, trying to find something—anything—to say. “You were perfectly okay threatening me and cursing at me. What happened now?”

His face twisted into a playful look of disbelief. “When did I—”

You were about to cut him off, but the teasing glint in his eyes silenced you.

“Huh?” His head tilted, and his smile grew, mischievous and daring.

“Okay! But I don’t mean any of it,” you blurted out, the words tumbling over each other as you sat up straighter, hoping it would make you look less flustered.

“Of course you don’t,” he said, his laugh escaping just beneath his words. The playful glint in his eyes only deepened as he relaxed back into the couch, arms spread wide like he was claiming the space between you. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and you couldn’t help but feel that same pull in your chest, though you tried to ignore it.

You crossed your arms tighter over your chest, trying to regain some control over yourself. “You really think you’re so charming, don’t you?”

He leaned in slightly, his smile widening, and your stomach fluttered despite your best attempts to stay unaffected.

“I don’t just think... I know.” His voice was full of that confidence that made your heart race, that impossible assurance that had you questioning everything.

You rolled your eyes, but even you knew it was more for show than anything. Your lips wanted to curl up, but you kept them pressed tight, the heat in your cheeks betraying the hard facade you tried to maintain.

“Yeah, right. Your just full of yourself,” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected, but the playful tone that slipped into your voice gave you away.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, his grin widening. “But I’ve got goods to back it up. Just look at how you're blushing.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you immediately shifted in your seat, trying to hide the heat spreading across your face. Your heart was racing now, and you could barely keep your breath steady.

“Am not!” you protested, but it came out weak, a poor defence against the blush that was clearly visible.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before standing up. “Sure, let’s go.”

Confused, you followed him, your feet moving almost mechanically. You barely registered his words at first, still caught in the strange feeling his teasing had left in your chest. “It’s getting late. We should go to bed.”

Something about the way he said "we" made your stomach twist, or was it flutter? You weren’t sure. All you could hear now was the odd ringing in your ears, a soft buzz that drowned out everything else.

“We?” The word slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, confusion knitting your brows together as you watched him.

He gave you a small, almost reassuring smile as he stepped into his bedroom, holding the door open for you. His eyes never left you as he waited, his gaze warm, not at all like you had imagined it would be.

You stepped in hesitantly, your heart pounding with every step you took closer to him. Your mind was swirling, but you couldn’t place what was happening. You trusted him, you did, but something about this moment felt different—felt new.

“What happened?” he asked softly, his hands reaching out to gently pull you toward him, his touch grounding you in a way that made everything else fade into the background.

You blinked, confused. “Huh?”

His eyes searched your face with concern, his brows furrowing as his fingers grazed your cheek. “You’re so... pale.”

“Am I?” you whispered, suddenly aware of how unsteady you felt.

He didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. His touch moved from your face to your forehead, gently pressing as though checking for something. His fingers trailed down to your neck, the soft touch sending shivers down your spine.

You felt lightheaded, almost as if his hand was the only thing keeping you grounded. Your knees wobbled, your breath catching in your throat as your vision blurred.

“What happened to you?” His voice was barely a whisper now, a trace of worry creeping in that made your heart thud painfully in your chest.

The softness in his tone made your legs feel even weaker, like they could give out at any moment. Your body trembled slightly under his touch, your mind too foggy to make sense of anything.

Before you could even respond, he scooped you up effortlessly, his strength surprising you. He laid you down gently on the bed, the sudden movement making everything feel even more surreal.

You felt lighter than you ever had, almost weightless, like you could just float away. But your head—your head felt impossibly heavy, as if you couldn’t hold it up anymore. The dizziness washed over you in waves, your senses fading. You barely registered the way his face hovered above you, worry etched deep in his expression as he watched you. His hand was still on your forehead, his touch warm against your cool skin.

You barely registered the way his face hovered above you, worry etched deep in his expression as he watched you. His hand was still on your forehead, his touch warm against your cool skin.

“God, what... hap-happened?” he murmured again, but you couldn’t find the strength to answer. Your vision blurred even further, the world around you spinning uncontrollably. You felt yourself slip away, your body growing heavier.

And then, without warning, everything went black.

You blinked your eyes open, still disoriented, only to find Jimin staring down at you. His face was inches away, concern etched across his features. His hand was gently placed on your arm, and his eyes were wide, scanning your face for any sign of distress. The dim light in the room made the worried expression on his face all the more intense.

"You okay?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he helped you sit up, his hand guiding you gently. He reached for the glass of water from the bedside table, offering it to you with a quiet determination. Without thinking, you drank it in one go, the cool liquid helping to clear the fog in your mind. You nodded weakly, still feeling lightheaded, but trying to reassure him.

"You fainted," he said, his voice unsteady as he watched you closely, his brows furrowed in disbelief. You nodded again, still not fully processing what had just happened.

He looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise, lips parted in a mixture of concern and confusion. His expression was so pure, so real, it made something twist in your chest. You couldn’t help but chuckle, though it was soft, a little breathless.

"I’m fine, Jimin," you reassured him, the words coming out far less convincing than you hoped.

"No, you're not," he said firmly, his voice almost pleading, his tone so filled with worry it made your heart clench. "You fainted. Let’s go to doctor."

"I’m fine," you repeated, though the words felt weak. His eyes never left yours, searching for any sign that you were telling the truth. His hand reached up, rubbing his face in frustration, his worry only growing.

"And I’m worried," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. His gaze softened, and you could see it in his eyes—the deep concern, the care that he couldn’t hide.

You felt a strange warmth spread through your chest, something raw and unspoken. But you also didn’t want him to act like this, not with you. Not now, not after everything.

“Why?” Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost a whisper, and you couldn’t look him in the eyes. It was the question you’d been asking yourself for so long, and now it slipped out before you could stop it. Your heart raced, your chest tightening as you waited for him to answer.

For a moment, he was silent. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, his gaze softening, and you could feel the tension between you grow thicker, thicker still. Then, as if to break the tension, he slowly reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine. His hand lingered, resting on your skin, as if he wasn’t ready to pull away.

“Sleep,” he murmured, the word leaving his lips like a tender command. But the last thing you wanted to do was sleep. The night was still young, the rain pouring outside, the sound of it filling the room. The cold breeze from the open window brushed against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

“I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room,” he said, as if it was the most natural thing to do. You stared at him, confused, unsure why he was saying that. You hadn’t asked him to, hadn’t even thought of it.

“Why?” you asked, your voice cracking just slightly.

“Because you’re sleeping on my bed,” he said, his voice firm but kind, as if it was obvious. He made you lie back down, covering you with the duvet, the soft fabric comforting against your skin. As he stepped back, you couldn’t stop the aching feeling in your chest, that unbearable pull that made your heart beat faster.

He moved toward the door, slow and deliberate, like he didn’t want to leave but had to. Every step he took felt like an eternity, and you wanted to call out to him, tell him to stop. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have the words.

When he reached the door, he paused and turned around to face you. His gaze softened, and he smiled—a small, almost shy smile, but one that made your chest ache. "Sleep tight, love. We have something important to talk about tomorrow." And with that, he closed the door softly behind him.

You lay there in the quiet room, your heart still racing, your mind spinning. You stared at the door, your thoughts scattered, your breath shaky. Did he just…? Did he just call you love?

The word echoed in your head, a faint warmth spreading through your veins. It was too much, and yet, you couldn’t stop the flutter in your chest. The night had shifted, everything had shifted, but you didn’t know what it meant. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of hope.

And as the rain continued to pour outside, the sound somehow soothing your frayed nerves, you let your eyes flutter shut, your heart still thumping, your thoughts tangled in him.

I don’t know if you liked it or not, but please, leave some feedback. Like, tell me how much you loved it or absolutely hated it. I’m all ears... honestly, I’m mostly just here for the drama either way.