It was the night when the sky seemed to have no end. Jimin rolled back onto his bed, unable to even deny the light of his gaze without something burning him inside.
His body was filled with smoke, he himself felt on fire.
He wasn't sure if it was because of the muscles, which instead of flesh felt like melted rubber, the lack of breathing, the sore throat, or perhaps the swollen skin from so much makeup.
It wasn't a question of age or wisdom, not even status: he was simply lying on the bed in his hotel room, with too many things on his mind, none of them congruent enough to come out in a sentence that made sense.
Was that the train of thought? Jimin didn't know, but he kept asking himself as he pulled the sheets tighter and couldn't decide whether to leave one foot hanging or close himself to the void.
He suddenly liked the hotel room. He looked over it, paying attention to every spotless corner and elaborate colors on the curtains. It was definitely consistent with its price, but it seemed like it was inhabited by a ghost. Jimin felt sadness around, thinking that that beautiful abode had no soul. He thought that perhaps things this beautiful could be susceptible to becoming meaningless when nothing really pleasant filled them.
That was the case of that abandoned place. There was only his half-packed suitcase in a corner, a couple of sofas, and empty towels and glasses, witnessing that Jimin had indeed been living there for two days.
What an arbitrary way of representing how his life had been those days. Show after show, he was always longing for a bed on the plane, and then, for home. He felt dumb for complaining so much though.
However, he couldn't help but to wonder when would it be time to perform again. He loved the feeling, even with the tiredness and constant lack of sleep.
Sometimes he wasn't sure in which country he was anymore, everything seemed the same.
"I miss home..." Jimin found himself saying our loud, before turning to the left and hugging a pillow. He breathed steady, trying his best to focus on the night, on the city beyond the bedroom's window.
It wasn't king before his eyes became to heavy to hold; and, before he could notice, he had to close them because of the burn of light. He sighed, thanking his body for finally giving him some rest.
Paying close attention to the night sounds, to how cars honked on the street, how the wind moved and how some distant club music kept on jumping from side to side; Jimin finally felt his body relax, melting with the covers.
The mere feeling made him low moan onto the sheets. His own pleasure didn't let him notice someone had entered his room.
Imagination perhaps? Ever since he was a child he would imagine someone was with him when he couldn't find a reason to sleep. Maybe it was just that, a piece of imagination. He must have been really tired for his mind to wander like that again. It hadn't had happened in years.
Back home, however, the shadow wasn't so blocking.
Slowly but surely, his body started to fell sleep, leaving his head by the end. As he did, a presence started to be noticeable next to the bed, then closer to the window, blocking the light from staying on Jimin's face.
His eyebrows furrowed, as the strange shadow started to have something similar to...breath? It was beyond odd but for some reason Jimin resisted the urge to open his eyes. Maybe the window was open and everything was a mere nightmare....
Jimin clenched his nose, confused when the sudden dark left his closed eyes, but didn't thought much of it.
A minute passed and he felt himself already in a partial dream. 'Tomorrow everything will be new', he thought. 'I will go back to the stage and the others will be there too, as always...'
It was the moment he fell sleep that the person in his room went close to kiss his lips.
The warm feeling made Jimin smile oblivious to the fact that the person who had intruded in his room was now starting to leave.
YOU ARE READING
Was it you? - Jikook
FanfictionJimin slept one day after a broken lover's kiss. ⚠️This product is not intended to promote violent, compulsive or obsessive behavior against the artist IDEALIZED here with the argument of shipping and/or resulting from fanaticism. Comments that vio...