trying to behave (but you know we never learned how)

Chapter eleven

December 2015

Thursday, the 17th, 8:24pm

New York, USA

Jimin doesn't have to turn around to know that Jungkook has been creepily staring at the back of his head for a solid 20 minutes now, gaze solid and unwavering.

It's fucking unnerving.

It's almost as unnerving as the heavy feeling that's been lingering in the air all day, and he's still a little bothered that no one else can feel it, how it's only been making him a little sick to his stomach ever since he woke up in the morning, body sore and throat dry with the inexplicable feeling that something's about to go wrong very, very soon.

He hasn't had one of these in years, and it's been throwing him off all day.

In a part of his head, he wonders if it's because Jungkook will finally snap and actually murder someone tonight, or something.

And it's fucking concerning that that's the tamest explanation he has for the sinking inside of him.

Jimin sighs in annoyance and shrugs his work shirt on, a soft, see through blue shirt he'd spent a considerable amount of his money on the last time they'd been taken to shop; rubs a finger across the length of the choker around his neck.

Black. Soft.

Jimin smiles to himself.

He's pretty.

And Jungkook's still fucking staring at him.

'Okay, what?' he finally hisses, looking at the younger boy over his shoulder with narrowed eyes and hopes he looks pissed off enough. 'What do you want from me?'

Jungkook's shamelessly stares back, all wide eyes and too much eyeliner.

'I want your soul, obviously,' he deadpans seriously, leaning back in the dressing room stool and rubbing a finger across his bottom lip in thought, clearly trucks over Jimin's scoff. 'I want your soul and answers,'

'You're getting neither,' the older boy wonders why he ever said yes to babysitting this little shit. Fuck language barriers. 'If you're done getting ready, get out,'

A beat of silence.

'Can't,' Jungkook grins, clicking his tongue and Jimin wants him dead. 'I have some very crucial questions, you see hyung-nim,'

Die.

'You're a bitch,' Jimin rubs his freshly dyed red fringe out of his face and glares across the room, because he's not in the fucking mood to answer questions, he's in the mood to score a fucking regular at work, and this isn't working out well for both of them; gives in anyway. Saves himself the extra aggravation. 'Ask,'

The younger boy grins, satisfied.

'Well you see, hyung-,'

'I told you to stop calling me that,'

'You see, Jimin hyung,' Jungkook sticks his tongue out and Jimin narrows his eyes from where he's trying to force a piercing through his lobe. 'I've been thinking,'

'Stop thinking,'

'I've been thinking,' the taller boy whines, sitting up at his full height and looks creepily out of place on the small rickety stool, all loose limbs and slenderman. 'Of plans to run away,'

Fucking die, already.

'I don't wanna hear it,' Jimin snaps shortly, adjusts his shirt and has half a mind to just run out the door because talking to Jungkook takes approximately three years off of his life, and his Korean has started to run out over the course of the past two months. All that, and the fact that they have this exact conversation approximately ten times a day. 'Keep it to yourself,'