Y/N's POV
I woke up as rays of the sun penetrated the drapes, illuminating the room. With my eyes half-closed, I reached to the other side of the bed. He was still there. I shot a glance at him and... jumped to my feet, screaming. The sheets were all blood-spattered, and Jimin was deathly still.
"Jimin!" I shook him, crying, and rolled him over. He opened his eyes, appearing disoriented. I collapsed back to the mattress, relieved. He took a drowsy look around and trailed a hand across his torso, wiping away the blood.
"It's nothing, darling. The stitches must have broken," he said, sitting up with a smile. "I didn't feel a thing. But we have to get cleaned up. We look like we've murdered someone," he added with amusement, running his clean hand through his hair.
"It's not funny," I snapped, and went to the bathroom.
I didn't need to wait long for him to join me. This time I was the one who washed him, gently stripping off the bloodied patches. When I was finished, I reached for a first-aid kit and applied new ones.
"You need to see a doctor," I said in a commanding voice.
Jimin shot me a warm, uncharacteristically submissive look.
"I'll do whatever you want, but first we need to have breakfast. Your fasting has come to an end," he said, stepping out of the bathtub and placing a kiss on my forehead.
I went to the fridge to look for something to eat, but the only things inside were wine, water, and some juices. The Man in Black went over, leaning his face over my shoulder, looking inside the empty fridge.
"Well, today's menu is rather limited," he said.
"I haven't been hungry lately. But there's a grocery store downstairs. I bet you'd like to feel like an ordinary human being for a change. Go get us something to eat. I'll make you a list and prepare breakfast," I said, shutting the fridge door.
Jimin took a step back and leaned over the kitchen table.
"As in: do grocery shopping?" he asked, frowning.
"Yes, Jimin. Groceries. Butter, bread, bacon, and eggs. Breakfast."
With a chuckle, the Man in Black left the kitchen, calling out as he went, "Write me a list."
After telling him how to reach the store, which was located in the same building, about a dozen feet from the main entrance, I watched him get into the elevator.
I suspected it would take him more time than it should, but less than I needed to get myself made up. I rushed to the bathroom, combed my hair, applied some quick makeup—one of those "I have no makeup on, that's just how I look every morning" things—put on a tracksuit and sat on the couch.
Jimin returned faster than I thought, without using the intercom.
"When did you get to Poland?" I asked as soon as he came back.
He hesitated, glancing at me.
"Breakfast first, talk later, Y/N. I'm not going anywhere. Not without you, anyway."
He put the groceries on the table and walked over to me.
"You make breakfast, baby girl, okay? I know next to nothing about cooking. Meanwhile, I'll need to use your laptop."
I pushed myself to my feet and headed to the kitchen.
"You're in luck. I love to cook and I'm pretty good at it," I said, and got to work.
In thirty minutes, we were sitting on the soft rug in the living room, having an all-American breakfast.
"Okay, Jimin. I've waited long enough. Talk!" I said, putting my fork down.
