Cingulomania || Nerd X Popular || Jimin FF

Chapter 22: Fractured Moments📍

Jimin's POV

I left... I just needed to get away. Everything was crashing down on me, and I felt so damn stupid. All this time, I thought maybe, just maybe, she'd see me the way I see her. But I guess she's not mine, and she never will be.

I've been drinking for the last hour, and honestly, I've lost track of how many I've had. The alcohol burns down my throat, numbing the ache in my chest, but it doesn't take away the feeling of hopelessness that's settled in my gut.

I'm dead drunk, sitting here in this shitty bar, surrounded by strangers who don't give a damn about anything but their own problems. And I'm just another idiot, drowning in my own misery, wishing I had done things differently.

I think about Y/N, about all the times I could have said something, anything, to let her know how I feel. But I didn't. And now, she's with someone else. Someone who's bold enough to take what he wants, while I just sit here and let it slip away.

I take another swig of my drink, my vision blurring as I try to push the thoughts away. But they keep coming, relentless and cruel, reminding me of everything I've lost. I never got to tell her... and now, I might never get the chance.

After the last drink, I try to stand, but my knees feel like they're made of lead. I stumble, barely catching myself on the bar counter, my vision swimming. Somehow, I manage to make my way out of the bar, my legs shaky and unsteady, each step feeling like I'm wading through quicksand.

The cold night air hits me like a slap, sobering me up just enough to realize how far I've fallen. I'm a mess. A complete, miserable, stupid, and pathetic mess. 

I think about all the things I've run away from in my life—the opportunities I let slip by, the chances I never took. And it all comes back to one thing... how much of a coward I've been, always hiding, always afraid to take the leap.

But then... Y/N walked into my life. She brought light to the dark corners I'd been hiding in, made me feel like maybe I wasn't such a failure after all. For the first time in a long time, I started to believe that I could be someone better, someone worthy of her.

But now, as I stumble through the empty streets towards my dorm, I can't help but feel like I've lost everything. The one person who made me feel like I wasn't completely worthless... and I let her slip through my fingers.

By the time I reach my dorm, I'm a wreck. My legs give out as soon as I close the door behind me, and I collapse onto the floor, the weight of everything crashing down on me. All I can think about is how I had Y/N right there, in my life, and how I was too much of a fool to hold onto her.

I drag myself up from the floor, my limbs heavy and uncooperative. Every step towards the bed feels like a monumental effort. When I finally reach the edge of the bed and sit down, a wave of panic hits me out of nowhere.

My heart races, the room starts spinning, and my breath comes in short, shallow gasps. I grip the edge of the mattress, my knuckles turning white, trying to ground myself. But the panic only intensifies, and I feel like I'm about to lose control completely. Everything's closing in—the mistakes, the regrets, the fear that I've ruined everything.

I breathe heavily, struggling to compose myself. The room feels like it's spinning, and I slump back onto the edge of the bed, trying to steady my shaking hands. The door creaks open, and I see Y/N standing there, her eyes wide with concern.

She steps into the room, her gaze flickering between me and the mess around. There's no need for words; her presence alone cuts through the fog of my inebriation. I can barely meet her eyes, feeling a mixture of shame and relief.

Without a word, Y/N sits beside me and wraps her arms around me. The warmth of her hug contrasts sharply with the cold, numbing haze of the alcohol. I lean into her, breathing in her sweet scent—fresh and comforting, almost intoxicating in its own right.

As I move closer, my actions feel almost automatic. I find myself gently guiding her down onto the bed, my body hovering over hers. Her eyes are wide but calm, reflecting a mixture of concern and something else I can't quite place. I study her face, tracing the curve of her lips and the gentle lines around her eyes. My heart pounds as I realize how much I want to be close to her, to feel this connection that has been eluding me for so long.

I look down at her, my breath coming in heavy, uneven gasps. My mind is clouded, but the desire to be close to her is sharp and clear. As I lean down, our faces just inches apart, I can feel the warmth of her breath mingling with mine. The urge to kiss her, to feel her, to claim this moment is almost overwhelming.

But as I close the distance, my resolve falters. My mind fights against the fog of alcohol and the rush of emotions. I sigh deeply, my lips just centimeters from hers. The realization that I can't, shouldn't, and maybe even shouldn't be this close to her in this state hits me hard.

I pull back, struggling to clear my head. I get off her, sitting on the edge of the bed, my hands running through my hair in frustration. The room feels both too small and too vast, filled with the echoes of what almost happened and the weight of what should have been said.

Y/N's POV

I watch as Jimin's expression shifts from intense longing to confusion. His breath is heavy, and the space between us is charged with an electric tension. I can sense his struggle, and it confuses me even more.

When he leans in, my heart races, hoping for that kiss, for a sign that he feels the same way I do. But as his lips come closer, he suddenly pulls back, sitting on the edge of the bed, visibly shaken. The warmth that was almost ours is gone, replaced by a chilling sense of disappointment.

I sit up, my thoughts a whirlwind. His distress is palpable, and I want to reach out, to comfort him, but I feel a bit unsure of what to do next. Seeing him like this, so vulnerable and conflicted, makes me want to hold him close and help him through whatever's troubling him.

"Jimin, what's wrong?" Y/N asks softly, her voice trembling. "You've been drinking. What's going on?"

As I sit beside Jimin, my mind replays the moments from earlier. The way he looked at me while we were lying on the bed—it was intense, vulnerable, and sincere. There's no way Jimin was using me; I can't believe a word James said.

But when I think about how Jimin gazed at me, I remember the concern in his eyes, the way he hesitated. The warmth of his touch, the way he held me, all those moments felt genuine. There's a depth to him that James could never understand. I know Jimin has been open with me in his own way, and he's not someone who would use me.

My heart tells me to trust Jimin, not just based on the good moments but on his honesty and how he's been with me. Whatever doubts James planted in my mind, I'm not letting them overshadow what I truly believe in my heart.

I can't help but ask, "Jimin, are you okay?" My voice is soft, filled with concern, hoping he'll open up to me.

He barely looks at me, his eyes clouded with something I can't quite read. "It's nothing," he mutters, his voice rough. He shifts slightly, trying to put distance between us. "You should go, Y/N."

His words sting a little, but I know he's hurting. "Jimin—" I start, wanting to reach out, but he cuts me off.

"Please, Y/N," he says, more firmly this time. "Just leave."

It's hard to walk away, but I can see he's not ready to talk. With a heavy heart, I nod, standing up from the bed. "Okay... but if you need anything, I'm here for you." I wait for a moment, hoping he'll say something more, but he just stays silent, staring at the floor.

I quietly leave his dorm, closing the door behind me, feeling a mix of worry and helplessness.