DISTORTED DESIRE | JIKOOK (DISCONTINUED)

1. THE ACCIDENT

Jimin slumps into the back of his chair, adjusting his glasses while letting out a heavy sigh. It wasn't his intention to stay this late. It's dark outside and snow has started to fall from the sky, hitting the large windows of the office delicately.

It was finished. He had everything proofread, had the perfect font choices and colouring. Everything the department manager had suggested. Until he didn't like the outcome and now wants the entire thing reworked.

"I thought I would like it here," he murmurs, slipping his fingers beneath the lens of his glasses to rub at his tired eyes.

His hand slips into his bag, where his fingers capture an energy bar. He would be asleep by now if he was back at his apartment. A soft whine of complaint sounds from his throat. The only thing he can think about right now is his soft bed and the way the covers feel against his bare skin and settle over top of his body like a warm embrace.

After a solid minute of contemplation - fingers ready to tear the packaging of the energy bar in half - Jimin stuffs it back into his bag. He turns everything off, putting his things away. He can worry about his project tomorrow. Right now, he needs to get some sleep.

When Jimin's outside of the company building, he walks to his car, rummaging for his keys in one of his pockets. He unlocks it, stepping inside with an unwanted invitation to a chilly leather seat. He shivers, turning up the heat. He almost questions why he forgot to start his car but remembers when it takes him at least ten tries to stick the key in the ignition. He's absolutely exhausted.

After buckling up, Jimin reverses out of his parking spot and joins a couple of other cars on the main road. His windshield wipers make an obnoxious sound as they swish back and forth, dissolving what's left of the snowflakes the second they land.

Winter and night time has always somewhat unsettled him. There's something about the bland yet unwelcoming clouds that drape the city with an eerie feeling. And the street lights that only stretch so far, providing momentary guidance until they stop and usher a pit of darkness.

Jimin's fingers tighten around the wheel. He blinks hard - once and then a few times. His head starts to fall, but he jolts, adjusting in his seat. He glues his eyes to the road, fixing his posture. He shouldn't be driving, not when he's this tired. But he has no other way to get home.

The wind whistles softly, heard thrumming from the crack left in the passenger side window. A yawn crawls up his throat, and his eyes gloss over. The lights outside seem to get shinier before going completely dark.

The tires squeal against the pavement and then a loud crackle and impact, like thunder and lightning. Time stops and slows. The car rolls one, twice. Jimin feels like he's being pummeled with every hit to his body. The airbag collides with his face. He can feel it in his nose and then more blood. He can hardly see the crumpled hood and the lot of shattered glass as he hangs upside down, blood rushing to his head.

Is anyone else hurt? Did he collide with another vehicle? Is anyone around to help him? Every subtle jerk his body makes as he tries to scope out his surroundings feels like another car accident in itself.

He reaches for his belt buckle, holding his breath. He isn't far from the roof, but even then, as he releases himself from his seat, the time it takes for him to hit the ground feels like an eternity.

Upon impact, he groans heavily, wincing in pain. His right arm is punctured by small shards of glass, and the side of his head bounces. Everything around him is spinning and doubled and every limb and body part is pulsing and pounding in agony.

Jimin struggles to stabilize himself on his forearms, desperate to crawl through the busted windshield and onto the road. Nobody has passed by since he crashed, at least not that he's noticed.