Don't Call Me Angel || VMIN

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Watching him stride out of the room, Jimin pried himself out of the protective position he was in and rose to his feet. Distant voices echoed down the hallway, but he paid them no mind, approaching the bed at a cautious pace. He went to lift the covers and found himself squirming back from the feeling of the fabric on his skin, the material invoking horrible memories of the other bed; the mattress he had been tied to, had been bound to far too tightly as they had their way with him. Scarred by each horrific event associated with it, he was unable to even sit down on the bed frame without sending convulsions through his body. What had happened to him?

Backing away, the dancer waited by the chest of drawers for Taehyung to return instead. Beads of sweat formed along his forehead, showing how much his inability to even approach the bed frightened him. How was he going to rest if he couldn't even touch it? These sheets weren't even the same ones and yet they still managed to make his skin crawl.

He used to be fine with curling up under a duvet to drift off to sleep after each private performance, so why was it only now that he was affected? Why, when the ravenette was stuck in a place he hardly knew, did his brain decide to act up?

Freaking out over the thought of lying on a mattress wasn't normal and he forced his legs to move, carrying him towards the very object that repulsed him. He hovered his hand above the sheets as though they might burn him, tears falling in earnest down his cheeks. Not able to initiate any sort of contact, Jimin cried out. His irritation turned to defeat and he sunk down onto his knees.

"Here's some tramadol to help with the pain," Taehyung offered, entering the room and causing the younger to topple over, "I would ask if you're alright, but you clearly aren't and I doubt you would want to tell me anyway."

He placed the tablet on the nightstand next to a glass of water and stood back.

Eyes glued to the round white pill the elder had set down, Jimin fidgeted with the base of his t-shirt. Taehyung was right about both, nothing about his situation was okay and he definitely wasn't going to confess that to anyone, especially not someone who had the ability to unknowingly stir up feelings inside him. Maybe he was aware of the effect he had on the dancer and was hiding out much it amused him. That thought stuck in his mind, picking at his brain, steadily tormenting him. It would have consumed him entirely if it weren't for the more pressing fears carving out his insides.

Suddenly, he felt a burning desire to tell the brunette. He wanted to yell it at him, spell out his pain with every anguished syllable so that he might be able to understand the torture brewing in his brain. He was usually able to reign in his emotions, stamp out the intrusive thoughts and show more self-control. However, at this point, the idea was so tempting, the sense of relief it could bring so overwhelming, that he couldn't help it.

"Of course, I'm not fucking okay," the younger started, his breath getting snatched away when another realisation smacked him, "and my sister's probably hurt -"

He cut himself off, silencing the rest of his sentence and staring down at the floor.

"Forget it," he muttered, dragging a hand through his ruffled hair as he stood up, "I'll take the meds and head to my room."

Jimin was in the act of swallowing the pill when Taehyung spoke up, almost making him choke while he tried to force it down.

"Jieun is fine," the brunette stated bluntly, which drew a gulp from the other.

How did he know she was 'fine' and more importantly, since when did he know her name? The confusion was evident on the dancer's face and he spluttered, trying to regain control of his breathing and form a coherent question. He needed to stop getting himself so worked up over every little thing, it wasn't going to do his body any good if he kept panicking.