14 Days | PJM

thirty-seven

In your second trimester, you've gotten the hang of your hormones and manage to function more efficiently at work. Although, your bump is beginning to show. You've went up in pant sizes, and your managers have done away with your mid-riffs and crop tops.

During a rehearsal, you practice a daring stunt in which you dance on a table and fall off the edge into a backup dancer's arms. You've rehearsed this choreography before and feel confident in the mechanics.

Trusting your partner, you fall backwards weightlessly. It happens so quickly you don't even feel pain at first. Blinking the confusion away, you start to feel your tailbone hurting and your stomach cramping. You groan, clutching your small belly.

The dancer quickly picks you up and lays you on the table. "I'm so sorry, Y/N, I wasn't in a proper position," he says frantically.

You hyperventilate through the pain and look down at your belly. What you see sends you into a panic.

Blood trickles out from your shorts and stains the table.

"Get a medic!"

"No, call the ambulance."

"Her driver could take her to the hospital right away."

"Someone call Jimin!"

Everyone takes turns to yell suggestions and directions, but you're completely frozen from the shock. Eventually, someone swoops you into their arms and carries you to Dongwoo's car. He speeds to the emergency room and leads you through the doors.

After explaining your situation and identity to the clerk, you're transported to a private suite where you wait to see a doctor.

Feeling immense guilt, you're afraid to tell Jimin what's happened. Will he think you were being irresponsible?

The doctor examines you and orders multiple tests which you undergo with grace. Waiting for the conclusion, you watch the news on the hospital television. BTS' world tour is a hot topic this week, as all their concerts have been sold out, and fans camp outside the stadiums.

You smile to yourself, happy that one of you is getting everything they deserve.

The doctor enters with a clipboard and stares at his documents for a while. You look to him impatiently but don't dare to say a word.

He places the clipboard under his arm and says, "The bleeding was a result of the trauma from the fall. The baby will be fine so long as you rest for a week, and please do not attempt that stunt again. Any intense physical activity can result in a tear that would be a grave threat for the fetus. I'll fax these details to your manager."

You agree to his conditions and watch him exit the room. Despite the very specific instructions, your manager will probably discard the medical documents and resume with the planned schedules and performances.

Shrugging, you pull the thin hospital blanket around yourself and drift to sleep.

———————

When you awaken, you feel your hand being caressed.

You look up and recognize him just from his backside—his relaxed shoulders, dangling Chanel earrings, the single mole at the base of his neck, and that damned sexy undercut.

"Jimin..."

He swiftly turns around and cups your face. "Y/N, I didn't want to wake you."

"How are you here?" you ask, wondering if this could be a lucid dream.

He removes his shoes and snuggles beside you in the hospital bed, careful not to pull your IV lines. "Someone called me as soon as it happened, and I hopped on the first plane to meet you. How are you feeling?"

You do a small nod. "I'm fine."

"You keep saying that, but you're not fine," he scolds. "You can't lie about your health. You promised to take care of yourself."

Ashamed, you turn away from him. Your face twitches as you try to hold back the tears. "No one cares about our baby. Even when I refuse to do stunts or try to dispute my schedule, they write me off as a troublemaker and a difficult idol to work with."

Jimin presses your face to his chest so that you can sob freely. You breathe in his cologne, the only smell that doesn't induce nausea.

He hugs you tightly. "I'll handle it."

You're not sure what he means by that, but you're lost in his rich scent and the warmth of his body. You lean all your weight onto him and wish he could stay with you always.

"We're going public," he says after a while. His fingers trace the length of your arm, making your goosebumps rise.

"About what?" you ask sleepily.

"The pregnancy."

You sit up and stare at him. He gently lays you back down. "You need rest. Don't get stressed over these things. I'll organize the details."

You want to warn him of the cruel intentions of certain staff, but you can't find the appropriate words. Instead, you let him ramble about how upset he is regarding the negligence and inconsideration of your managers.

You listen to his melodic voice and slip into a trance. He continues to express his disdain, but all you hear is the hum and timbre of his voice. He rubs your belly and sings a lullaby when he realizes you're not even listening to his rant.

You worry that when you wake up he'll already be gone, but before you can fight the urge, you've fallen into a deep sleep again.