Fifty Shades Of Jeon || Jikook ✅ (18+) Book 1

91

JIMIN POV

I stare at the flames, mesmerized.

They dance and weave bright blazing orange with tips of cobalt blue in the fireplace in jungkook's apartment.

And despite the heat pumping out of the fire and the blanket draped around my shoulders, I'm cold. Bone-chillingly cold.

I'm aware of hushed voices, many hushed voices but they're in the background, a distant buzz. I don't hear the words.

All I can hear, all I can focus on, is the soft hiss of the gas from the fire.

My thoughts turn to the house we saw yesterday and the huge fireplaces real fireplaces for burning wood.

I'd like to make love with Jungkook in front of a real fire.

I'd like to make love with him in front of this fire.

Yes, that would be fun.

No doubt, he'd think of some way to make it memorable like all the times we've made love.

I snort wryly to myself, even the times when we were just fucking.

Yes, those were pretty memorable, too. Where is he?

The flames shimmy and flicker, holding me captive, keeping me numb.

I focus solely on their flaring, scorching beauty.

They are bewitching.

Park Jimin, you've bewitched me.

He said that the first time he slept with me in my bed. Oh no...

I wrap my arms around myself and the world falls away from me and reality bleeds into my consciousness.

The creeping emptiness inside expands some more.

Charlie Tango is missing.

"Jimin Here." Mrs. Jones gently coaxes me, her voice bringing me back into the room, into the now, into the anguish.

She hands me a cup of tea.

I take the cup and saucer gratefully, the rattle betraying my shaking hands.

"Thank you." I whisper, my voice hoarse from unshed tears and the large lump in my throat.

Mia sits across from me on the larger-than-large U-shaped couch, holding hands with Grace.

They gaze at me, pain and anxiety etched on their lovely faces. Grace looks older - a mother worried for her son.

I blink dispassionately at them.

I can't offer a reassuring smile, a tear even there's nothing, just blankness and the growing emptiness.

I gaze at hobi, Joon and Jih, who stand around the breakfast bar, all serious faces, talking quietly.

Discussing something in soft subdued voices.

Behind them, Mrs. Jones busies herself in the kitchen.

Tae is in the TV room, monitoring the local news. I hear the faint squawk from the big plasma TV.

I can't bear to see the news item again Jeon Jungkook missing -his beautiful face on TV.

Idly, it occurs to me that I've never seen so many people in this room, yet they are still dwarfed by its sheer size.

Little islands of lost, anxious people in my Fifty's home.

What would he think about them being here?