𝙼𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝙱𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚗 | PJM. JJK✔

the clinic

11th February 2020

I haven't heard from Jimin in almost a week.

We had a fight the last time we spoke.

It was loud and messy and painful, but I wanted it resolved, and I didn't mind being the one to resolve it.

I swallowed my pride and called him, but it turned out he changed his phone number.

He is shutting me out, and I figured an apology alone wouldn't cut it, so three days ago I ordered something I knew he would like online as a Valentines day gift. Something personal to remind him that I am just a fool who is horrible at voicing his thoughts.

I know that this is putting a lot of faith in a miniature harp but he'll like it, right?

I need this to work. I need us to work.

I stroll down the street and try not to think about the fact that I have been doubting Jimin and I lately. That at times I wonder if this whole thing will work out in the end, or if I've just been wasting time, caught up in an on and off relationship that would soon see a bitter end.

Are we even meant to be? I ask myself. Is what we have going to last?

I'm not completely sure about the answer.

These days, we yell at each other more often than we speak, and we hurt each other more often than we kiss.

I think of the endless amount of insults we have thrown at each other during our time together, but when I end up at the front door of the Stanfield Library, I curl my lips into a smile, and tell myself to forget it all.

There's still a part of me that loves him.

I trust that all we need to save us is a new start, and push past the door to head inside. I pray that my present, wrapped in red giftpaper for Valentines day, and an apology is enough to restore some of his trust in me I had destroyed.

I walk up to the reception desk with my tail tucked between my legs.

A set of round golden glasses rest on the perked tip of Jimin's nose as he types furiously into his computer. His blue azure locks are pushed back, making him look all professional, and he is wearing a black blouse decorated with a colorful floral print.

I push my tongue against the inside of my cheek.

The first three buttons of his blouse are undone, providing anyone in his vicinity a perfect view of his bare chest.

"Hello," I say, smiling.

When Jimin glances up at me, his expression is stale as old bread, as though there is nothing but a dead soul behind his gaze.

He looks at me like he doesn't even know who I am, and I nervously clear my throat as it startles me.

"Can I help you find something, sir? He asks lamely, returning his attention to his computer.

I bite my bottom lip. He's still angry at me, I think.

I look up through my lashes and fumble with his gift in my hands. "Well, sir, I am here to deliver a package."

Jimin frowns sternly. "A package?" He asks. "What package?"

I am about to answer him, when the smug voice of another man interrupts me.

"I have a package for you as well, sir~"

Jimin's face breaks into a flustered smile, and he rolls his eyes at a ravenhaired man who's face is hidden from my sight by a tall stack of books.