Heartless || •OG• ✔️

Chapter 31 - Jimin

Their lips collided, his hands roaming her body as he grunted into their kiss. Her lips were as soft as ever. They tasted like vanilla, and her body smelled of the cucumber soap she adored. His hands found themselves tangled in her hair as he pushed her back on their bed. The mattress creaked, the maroon covers and sheets matching the darkness in the room. Their only lights were candles set up on the two nightstands sitting on either side of the king-sized bed.

He parted only so he could take off her shirt, and he admired her bare skin. He went down and gave her neck several kisses, his nostrils flaring from the intensity of her scent. The aroma wrapped around him until he was sucked in. Each action had him desiring more. Needing it more than anything he had ever needed.

Sex was never a huge deal to Jimin. However, over the years, he grew a stronger craving for it. That was because it gave him an escape from the reality he despised. The reality he wished he could escape from.

With that in mind, he kissed her harder and pinned her hands above her head. This was their first time together after two months of a relationship. It was strange waiting so long, but Jimin wasn't ready. He wanted to believe he was now.

He released her hands and pulled away, placing his forehead on hers as he panted. "I love you," he whispered, and those gorgeous lips of hers opened to reply. Although he adored hearing those sweet words pour out of her mouth, he pressed his mouth back on hers to prevent her from speaking.

They became a tangled mess of limbs on the bed. The wooden frame squeaked and bounced against the carpeted room, him loving the way her body pressed against his. Then, she went to his shirt. Her hands slipped under the fabric, pulling it up. And that was when he realized why he was never ready for sex.

She touched the burn mark.

In a blink, he was back in that house on that night. The flames scorched his skin and gave him third degree burns that would never heal. Scars that would never go away, both mentally and physically. The screams from that night poured through, and the walls of his mind closed in around him. He heard a clock in the distance, counting down the seconds until he lost his baby girl. His heart was racing, his hand reaching out to save her, but it was broken in the process.

And then, he opened his eyes, and he was back in the bedroom he grew so familiar with. Sweat drenched his skin as pants left his chapped lips. Charlotte was in front of him with her concerned stare, her jaw dropped from what she had to witness.

"Jimin?" she said, and he swallowed, tears trickling out of his eyes.

"Char?" She nodded, the candles spraying a honey scent in the air. That was what brought him back to reality. That and the puddle he was bathing in. His shirt stuck to his skin, same with his sweatpants. His feet were bare, but his toes were curling. He relaxed them, leaning back and processing what had happened.

She didn't need to ask. She knew. And because of that, she came over and asked permission to hold him. Of course, he accepted. Charlotte rested her head on his chest, not caring how sloppy the state of his body was.

Jimin stared at the wall that matched their covers. He didn't look at the dresser that was overflowing with clothes, or the pictures of them that were hung up all over the place, or even the desk in the corner of the room that had a white rose in a vase near the single window. His eyes remained on the wall dead ahead. That wall and that wall only.

"Please remember that you always have someone here for you," she said, her index finger rubbing back and forth on his collarbone.

Out of fear that his voice would crack, he didn't verbally reply. He kissed the top of her head and played with her hair. Desperate for an escape, he tilted her head up with his hand, leaning down and connecting their lips. The kiss was shorter than any they had before, and after they separated, she placed a hand on his cheek.

"I love you," she said, and their foreheads pressed together.

"I love you too." They kissed again, and eventually, Jimin was able to fall back into the passion they had before. He liked to think it brought him peace. That it brought him happiness, albeit only temporary. But the reality was he was never happy, and he was never at peace.
He doubted he'd ever feel those things again.

~~~

The bed creaked as he snapped himself awake, his hand holding his scar. Ivan wasn't in the area due to him staying in the kitchen for constant surveillance. The loneliness of the room was something Jimin should have been used to. In so many ways, he accepted it. Yet he didn't at the same time.

"I have nightmares too," a female voice said.

Jimin whipped his head around and saw Ariel there. She was sitting in front of the desk, her head pressed against the surface as she stared out at the night sky. It had been several days since Ivan went unconscious and the others were scrambling to figure out what to do. Jimin doubted they'd ever find a proper answer.

"Nothing compared to yours, I'm sure," Ariel said, scratching her chipped nails against the surface. "But I remember wanting my parents to be there for mine. So I guess I wanted to be there for yours. Just in case you needed it."

He watched her closely, but her eyes were elsewhere. Jimin didn't have the strength to get angry at the girl for entering his room. It was futile to yell over a minor matter. No yells came, only his mattress bouncing as he sat up. Moisture dripped down his bare skin, coating his stomach and chest muscles. He reached down and picked his shirt up from off the floor, but he didn't want to put it on such an untidy body.

"Thanks kid, but I'm okay. Get back to sleep and rest well. We may need you to help us if the time comes, you know that?" he said.

She hesitated, then turned back to peek at him. "If I asked you to teach me how to shoot, would you do it?"

"What? Don't be ridiculous, Jericho and Charlotte will keep you safe."

"You won't?"

Flames touched his figure. The scars came to life and leapt around his body. Each dance they did made him more aware of the time that was ticking by, the clock booming in his head. He licked his plump lips and was amazed that every inch of them was dry. Another beat passed. That was when he finally answered.

"I don't know, kid. I honestly don't know."

"Why not? Do you not trust me?" she asked, and he couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Ariel, I said I don't know, not that I don't want to."

More hesitation came. This time, Ariel's eyes lit up with recognition. She perked her head up and tilted it, her mouth opening to speak. Nothing was said as she processed his words. He was still processing them too. Although he didn't say what had happened to him, he was sure his tone and look was giving away part of it. Ariel was a kid, but a clever one.

"Jimin..."

"I'm gonna go take a walk. I'm not dressed though, so can you...?" He trailed off, and she took the hint. She departed the room so he could change, but it took him longer than anticipated.

His hands shook as he raised them to hold the sides of his head. More clocks. More flames. More scars. They laughed at him with bellowing sounds. The noises slithered around the walls of the room he thought was his safe spot. Jimin forced himself up, passing by the walls and pulling his towel from the closet. He dabbed down the liquid on his body, not caring how much he smelled of sweat before he threw the shirt back on.

Then, he left the room. Ariel was still there, only on the opposite side of him. She was outside her room, peeking up when she saw him. He tried not to sigh, but it was impossible. "You really should get back to bed. I'm going to see Ivan, and you don't want to see that," he said.

"Or maybe it's time I do."

He shut his door behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why?"

"I don't know, toughen me up I guess. This is my life now, isn't it?" she asked. Her voice was lost. Scared. It was that tone that had him moving forward, reaching her side of the hall.

They were both short. Ariel was short for her age, and Jimin was short for an adult male. Regardless, he knelt in front of her. His hands came to her shoulders, and their eyes locked. The knee he had on the ground winced from the sudden pressure applied to it. He wasn't fully awake, but he pushed through it as best he could.

"Ariel, there's no shame in being afraid. There's no shame in not wanting to do something. It doesn't make you weak or a coward. It makes you who you are, and there's nothing wrong with that. Do you really want to see Ivan?"

She rubbed her lips together, the tears coming to her eyes shattering his heart. "No..."

At that, he stood. His legs yapped at him for moving in the first place, but he ignored it. "Rest. You deserve it," he said. She agreed, dipping her head and going back to her room. The door opened, but he couldn't resist. "Ariel?" The preteen froze, turning to face him. "For whatever it's worth, I'm sorry."

She stayed there for another few beats. Then, she grabbed the knob. "If I was going through a nightmare, whether in real life or in my dreams, would you be there for me?"

"Always."

"Would you sing for me?" she asked with full sincerity. His breath hitched in his throat, her eyes awaiting his answer.

"Get to bed, kid. We'll talk in the morning. Come get me if you have a bad dream." Her face deflated. There was so much he wished he could say. None of those words came out, and she slipped away. The door shut behind her, and Jimin figured he couldn't dwell on it. He already made his decision.

His legs carried him down to the kitchen. Double doors waved at him as he shoved through them. Jericho Novak was there, and he pulled a seat up to sit by Ivan's side. Their hands were locked, but one of them was cold.

"Jericho? What are you doing here?" Jimin asked.

The man didn't so much as flinch at Jimin's presence. So, he took it as a sign that he was welcome. Jimin came over and leaned against the counter across from where Ivan was placed. Jericho still didn't take his eyes off of the injured one.

"He got stabbed trying to help us. All this happened because he was trying to help and... I don't understand why. He had such a good life. An empire, countless people at his call. He could've replaced us. New friends, new family. There's no reason why he should have sacrificed what he has for us," Jericho said, dropping his voice to a hush. "That's why I'm here. The least I can do is wait for him to wake up."

"I'm sure he appreciates that." Jimin missed Ivan more than anything. He was his best friend. Monthly reports were only interesting since he got to see Ivan. Otherwise, he didn't give a shit. Not just about the reports. The entire Underworld. If Ivan weren't there, Jimin wouldn't see much purpose in moving on.

Jericho was refusing to take his gaze off of Ivan's bandaged face. Dried blood and skin was resting around the bandages. They did their best to clean it, but saving his life was the priority. After saving a life, rest was needed. Rest took precedent over cleaning. It was something that'd have to be done at a later time.

"Jericho," he said, the man stiffening. "You have to take a break." There was no answer. Bags were under Jericho's eyes, his skin paler than usual due to the lack of sunlight he was getting. It didn't help that he was sitting there in the dark, only a candle to illuminate the vicinity. "I've been in the same situation."

"Have you?" Jericho replied, the words a slap in the face. Jimin stalled at that, and Jericho released Ivan's hand, shifting to face him with his eyes filled with water. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry. I know you have, I didn't mean to say that. You're right. Please tell me what I can do. At this point, I don't know if there's anything left of me."

Jimin mentally accepted the apology and leaned a bit closer. "What do you mean?"

"We've been doing this for what feels like ever, but I don't know why we're here anymore. We're fighting, but for what? A chance at normal life? Did we have that in the first place? There's no going back. There's no way we go back to something normal, even if we win. I'm just... I'm scared, Jimin. I'm scared that we're doing all this for nothing. That Ivan got permanently injured for nothing."

Jimin went over, Jericho standing from the sudden movement. "I won't let you think that," Jimin said, his voice raspy. "I won't." He shook his head, then, he embraced the older man. Jericho jolted from the contact. After a breath, he returned the hug. They held each other in the dim light of the kitchen, Ivan next to them, but his soul in another realm.

"I'm sorry," Jericho whispered, his breath tickling Jimin's chest. "I don't know what's gotten into me. I've seen worse. Fuck, I've done worse."

"Ivan means something to all of us. He's our friend. And it's more than that too. He sacrificed his Underworld to come to help us. He put his ass on the line to give us sanctuary when we needed it. Ivan's a good friend, and that's why this hurts so bad. There's no shame in it. Just like how there's no shame in being scared."

The words clicked in both of their minds. Jericho pulled away but remained close, his eyes dilating and taking in Jimin's form. "How are you staying so strong right now?" he asked, Jimin smiling.

"I'm not, but everyone here's so damn pessimistic. We could use an optimist." He paused, chewing on his lower lip. "Ariel deserves an optimist."

Jericho returned his expression, giving his shoulder a pat. "Thank you for listening, and I'm sorry for breaking down in front of you like that."

"I'm sorry too."

"What are you sorry for?" Jericho asked, his brows knitting together. It seemed as though life was falling apart. Ivan was permanently injured or worse, Jericho was losing his shit, and Ariel was terrified. Yet Jimin still managed to give Jericho what he prayed was a comforting face.

"That you have to apologize for having emotion. For having pain."