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JIMIN's POV
As the days passed and Y/N and I found ourselves sharing the same hospital room, it quickly became apparent that we were not exactly the best of roommates. In fact, if I had to describe our relationship in one word, it would probably be "volatile."
From the moment we woke up each morning to the time we finally drifted off to sleep at night, it seemed like there was never a moment of peace between us. Whether it was arguing over who got to use the bathroom first or squabbling over the TV remote, there was always something to bicker about.
One particularly memorable incident occurred when I accidentally spilled juice all over Y/N's favorite book. "Oops, my bad," I muttered sheepishly, trying to clean up the mess before she noticed.
Y/N's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the damage, her lips pressed into a thin line of irritation. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" she accused, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to roll them right out of my head. "Yeah, because ruining your precious book was at the top of my to-do list for today," I shot back, my tone laced with frustration.
The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion, with us sniping at each other over every little thing. From arguing over who got the last pudding cup to bickering over whose turn it was to pick the movie for movie night, it seemed like there was no end to our petty squabbles.
But as exhausting as it was to constantly be at each other's throats, there was also a strange sense of camaraderie that developed between us. In a way, our constant bickering became a kind of twisted bonding experience, bringing us closer together in our shared misery.
Or not. As much as I tried to convince myself that our constant bickering was somehow endearing or entertaining, the truth was that it was downright exhausting. Every day felt like a battle, with no end in sight to our petty disagreements and snide remarks.
And while I tried my best to keep my cool and not let her get under my skin, there were moments when I felt like I was on the verge of losing my mind.
One particularly memorable incident occurred when Y/N insisted on playing her favorite music at full volume while I was trying to get some much-needed rest. "Could you turn that down a bit?" I asked, my voice strained with irritation.
Y/N shot me a defiant look, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "Why should I? It's my room too, you know," she retorted, cranking up the volume even louder.
I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to scream in frustration. "Fine, have it your way," I muttered, burying my head under the pillow in a futile attempt to drown out the noise.
But even as I lay there, seething with anger and frustration, a small part of me couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe I was being too harsh on Y/N, I thought to myself. After all, she was just as stuck in this situation as I was, and she had every right to make herself comfortable in her own space.
