My Last Breath (JJK+PJM One shot)

MY LAST BREATH

"I'll be back around five, okay?" said Jimin to Jungkook's back.

Jungkook didn't even turn around to spare the smaller boy a glance as he hummed his reply. His eyes were too focused on the computer screen, playing some video game.

Jimin had to satiate himself with the sight of his broad, white T-shirt covered back.

"Goodbye." Jimin said, finally, as he opened the door.

"Hyung." Jungkook said, almost too quietly, but he heard it.

"Bring me some ice-cream?" He turned around to look at him now, having paused the game.

Jimin stared at the other boy. His dark brown hair were a mess, sticking out in various directions. His lips had reddened from when he must have bitten them in the adrenaline rush of the game.

"Okay. Will do." He replied. With that, he turned around, a lump in his throat.

The truth, that he would never admit, was that he liked Jungkook. More than he should like him as a friend, or even a brother. Living in the same dorm room was harsh on him, and he came closer to telling Jungkook his feelings everyday. But he'd never come close enough.

Shrugging, he took a shuddering breath, and slung his backpack on his shoulder. He would be late for his dance class otherwise.

Jimin taught children to dance at a studio he'd rented for the job. He taught them many dance forms that he himself knew, like ballet and hip-hop. Not only was it his hobby, it also paid off his college bills, where he was studying art with Jungkook.

***

Jimin walked down the deserted street on his way home. He'd promised to be back home at five, but it was around eight that time. He'd taken an emergency extra class for a kid that had a dance practice the next day. On top of that, his landlord chewed him out for not paying the rent for two consecutive months.

He sighed as he walked. Life was tough for him.

He lightly swung the plastic bag that held the ice-cream for Jungkook. He allowed warm thoughts worm their way into his mind, all associated with Jungkook. He, unknowingly so, made Jimin's life bearable if not easy just by existing in his life. He wondered if he would have even begun his dance classes if it weren't for Jungkook and his constant praising of his skills.

Jimin smiled.

Suddenly, he saw the headlights of a bus approaching him. He lunged for safety away from the road, but the bus was too fast. He heard rather than felt the bones of his body crunch against the bus' bumper. He then felt himself being thrown into the sidewalk, his head cracking against a pole.

His mind went blank for a moment. Everything was blank. Then it all came back to him in rushing clarity.

He'd been hit. Badly.

He heard the shuffle of feet towards him. Even in his mangled state, he could tell it was the walk of a drunken man. He reached his hand out feebly, asking for help.

But he heard the footsteps retreat, then the start of the bus' engine. He felt defeated. He lay his head back against what he assumed to be the base of the pole.

He moaned in pain. He was hurting everywhere. He tried to sit up, only to slump back again. A surge of warm liquid ran down the side of his head as he did so.

Suddenly, his phone rang, a bubbly tone against the grim circumstances. He reached inside his pocket with his left, unbroken arm.

His phone didn't even have a scratch on it. He laughed at the irony, then winced at the pain. He looked at the caller ID, and even through his hazy vision, he could read Jungkook's name.