Don't Call Me Angel || VMIN

είκοσι έξι

Moonlight spilled through the parting in the curtains, illuminating Jimin's face as he sat waiting, curled up in his dressing down. He was still situated in the same corner, having returned there after his dinner. Listening intently, his ears straining at the silence for the sound of the front door, which would easily be heard from his current position; he had made sure of that. Taehyung said he would be returning late that night, not mentioning a specific time and making it clear that he shouldn't wait for him because he needed to rest.

So, naturally, the dancer had ignored him and here he was, refusing the fall asleep, not that he would have been able to even if he tried. Horrid nightmares and troubling visions plagued his mind every time he closed his eyes. It was like they had been permanently branded onto the inside of his eyelids, making them irrefutably inescapable.

In all fairness, he could be doing something much more productive with his time, seeing as he has been waiting for six hours, according to the clock in the corridor that he had been watching through his open door. The truth was, his body was exhausted and he couldn't find the energy to move. He also didn't want to wake anyone else, Seokjin and Yoongi had both headed off to bed a while ago and the rest had left with Taehyung. It wouldn't be right to disturb them after all they had done, and were doing, for him, so he curled up tighter and resumed his meticulous staring at the second hand as it slowly ticked away.

Jolting up at the click from the front lock, the ravenette couldn't help fearing that it might not be the elder, that someone else, someone far less welcome, was going to come in.

He stopped dead when the first voice called out, it definitely wasn't Taehyung, although it sounded familiar. As the voice spoke again, Jimin recognised it to be Namjoon's, the dimple-smiled associate of the group, and he shuffled over to his door. The footsteps echoing out seemed to be uncoordinated and effortful and he could make out someone's laboured breathing. A door swung open out of his line of sight, he couldn't really see what was going on anyway, and the dancer had only a moment to wonder who it was before an annoyed voice gave him his answer.

"Kim Taehyung," Seokjin huffed, in a tone that made Jimin decide it would be best if he stayed put, "What do you think you are doing, showing up after ignoring all of my calls, looking like that?"

Looking like what? Was he hurt? Fighting the urge to run out and check, knowing it would only make matters worse, he pressed himself into the doorframe and slid down. There he sat, cross-legged, with his back to the hallway, still able to hear the confrontation clearly. It was a couple of moments until a response came.

"Jin hyung, it's not that bad," Taehyung appealed, however, there was a noticeable strain in his voice that said otherwise, "Suga will be able to patch it up in no time."

"I'm not worried about Yoongi's abilities," the elder jabbed, pointedly emphasising his boyfriend's name, "We had an agreement, we made a deal."

"I know -"

"No, no you don't. You've never had to worry about me going out without knowing when or if I'll be back. You didn't pick up any of my calls, for all I knew, Sunwoo had killed you."

"C'mon, give me some credit. You don't really think our father would be able to hurt me, do you?"

"This isn't a time for joking, not when you're bleeding on my carpet," Seokjin reprimanded, but his tone had softened, "Namjoon, can you help him into his room? I'll get Yoongi."

The youngest couldn't help the tears forming in his eyes and he listened to the movement in the corridor with two crystal tracks flowing down his face. Taehyung was injured because of him. He had gone to see Sunwoo all because he hadn't been able to deal with his problems alone and now he was hurt. God, he was pathetic, just like his mother had so consistently reminded him.