Part 20

22 1 0
                                    

Unsurprisingly Jimin found that his legs weren't at all steady, which made it a blessing that Taehyung was holding onto his arms tightly to keep him standing upright. Without his support he would have likely been on the floor right now, his knees having unhinged and spilled him onto the hard marble flooring in a mess of limbs. That would have hurt a lot, might just have knocked him out which might have been somewhat comforting right now. But his hands were tight around his elbows like vices and so he didn't need to worry about falling. The palms of his hands were rather cold on his skin, cold from the outside weather, but also maybe cold from something else. Something like a fear strong enough to turn his blood to ice in his veins.

Taehyung's face was currently blank of expression, eyes wide and lips rather slack. His usual tanned skin had paled considerably and he was just staring at him. His gaze seemed to go right through him, not really looking at him at all. Jimin wondered if he looked like that too, all pale and dumbfounded like the other man. After a minute of silence he managed to move his lips and speak, voice coming out in a rather harsh croak.

"What'd you mean "Jeon's dead"?"

"He's dead, Tae, he was murdered in a shooting in Mapo-gu. It was on the news, all over the news, he's dead, Tae, he's-" Jimin moaned and his legs wobbled, causing him to slump forward so that his head knocked against his chest. He felt lightheaded again like he had back in the den except at least his chest wasn't hurting right now. The other man didn't even shift from the impact, meaning that he could slump forward against him. Strangely enough Taehyung didn't feel that different supporting him in comparison to Yoongi, even with the obvious height and weight differences. He briefly wondered what it would feel like to have Jungkook hold onto him like this before the other man shifted slightly and the thought was roughly pushed out of his mind.

"C'mon, sit down before you collapse," Taehyung muttered as he sat down on the chaise lounge. He dragged him down with him, pulled him onto his lap rather forcibly. Jimin didn't mind at all for it wasn't like standing was really an option. He felt his jeans brushing against his suit trousers with a series of soft rustling noises and he settled down onto his lap, arms tight around his neck so that he could burrow against his chest. "Jesus-fucking-Christ," Taehyung breathed out, words aimed at no one in particular but rather just spoken aloud to break the horrible silence.

Taehyung wasn't exactly Jungkook but he was more than enough. The warmth of his body and his touch made him feel so much more secure because Jimin knew that he was in safe hands. When he closed his eyes and tightened his arms around his neck he found that the mental image of Jeon's Ssangyong was no longer present, rather just the comforting sensation of his breath on the top of his head. All thoughts about death and misery just simply escaped his mind and that was a blessing.

Jimin wasn't entirely sure how long that they stayed seated on the chaise lounge in silence, just that it must have been a couple of hours for the sky outside of the window started to change: the blue turning a series of pinks and purples at the horizon. Taehyung's clothing had a strange mixture of scents coming from it: the pungent and rather unpleasant stink of gasoline underneath that of smoke. The scent of it made Jimin's nose itch and he wondered why exactly he smelled such a way before deciding that he didn't want to know. It would have been something bad, that much he knew. Taehyung wouldn't smell like a bonfire unless he had built one and Jimin knew exactly what would be thrown on it. The answer was not most certainly not chunks of wood. He felt like he could spend the rest of the evening just sitting on his lap like this, legs folded up on the remaining length of the cushion and Taehyung's hand on his lower back: warm and supportive. But eventually the other man shifted under him, more or less trying to get him to get off his lap. But Jimin didn't want to, he wanted to stay in place instead and so he just moved to lift his head off his chest, arms wrapped around his neck so that he could look into his eyes.

House of Cards by: sugamins Where stories live. Discover now