Running In Circles // pjm.

No More

2 weeks later, I stood in my now-cleared out bedroom and glanced around it. My phone rang loudly in my pocket and I answered it reluctantly. Not everyone was fully accepting of my sudden leave from Seoul.

PD-nim wished me a safe journey back home and I thanked him for approving my leave on such a short notice. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I waded into the living room. I looked around for anything that I could have left behind and sighed. I was going to miss this house for the time being.

I ran my fingers along the couch, ignoring my phone that rung in my back pocket. I paid off the carriers who stood at the door and thanked them, moving into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea before I left.

I sat silently at the kitchen counter, sipping my tea and silencing my phone every time it rang. I still had time on my contract, but I was excited to go back home. I wanted get some time away, I wanted to see my father, and I wanted to graduate. A deep pit of guilt built in my stomach, a voice telling me that I was running away. I assured myself that I had done enough work for the time I would be away and that the boys were in between eras, filming Bon Voyages and things of sort that didn't require me. If they did, I had left a catalogue for Mia to handle. You're okay. That's not what you're running from.

I drank the last of tea, rinsed the cup and padded into the living room. I took a moment to myself before bending down and lifting up my last suitcase. Just as I straightened up, I heard loud steps approaching at a rapid pace. I whipped around to see Jimin leaning on the door frame, panting heavily. My eyes widened and I froze as he gathered himself and he strode in toward me.

"What is this? What are you doing?" he snarled at me.

"I'm leaving," I shrugged and turned around to grab my suitcase, "I told the boys already, I thought you'd get the message."

"I got your fucking message," he walked right up to me, "what I don't get is what the fuck you think you're doing."

"What's best," I whispered, looking up at him.

"No, no. you're not doing this," he grabbed my hand in an attempt to release the suitcase.

"You don't get to decide that, Jimin!" I said, stronger this time, tugging my hand from his.

"Tara," he held my shoulders, "don't do this, Tara, please. You're really just going to leave like this?" he bent slightly to meet my eyes.

"move, Jimin," I shoved him lightly, "don't make this any harder than it already is."

"Don't, Tara," he whimpered, hand still grazing mine, "just don't go."

My heart sank in my chest as I turned to face him.

"And do what, Jimin? Be here? Be around you all day long and act like it's okay? Like it's not actually killing me inside?"

"I'll find a way, doll, we'll find a way," both his hands latched on to one of mine.

"I've heard that before. You tried, Jimin, didn't you?" he nodded slowly in response.

"it didn't work. It's not going to work. Please, just let me go," I continued, securing his hand, "I would never ask you to choose anyway. That is my home, Jimin. This is yours. This is your workplace, your home, your dream. It's all so much more important," I stepped closer to him.

"Don't say that," he whispered.

"Don't say what? It's true. Some time away will do us both good," I squeezed his hand.

"I can't let you go," he looked up at me with tears brimming in his eyes.

I felt like slapping myself.

"it's not your decision to make," I said and fastened my other hand around the trolley underneath it.

"I don't know what to do with myself, Tara, please," his head fell meekly.

"Just do what you're already doing, Jimin," I attempted to pull my hand out of his, "let me go, please."
"Tara-"

"I'm sorry," I gradually slid my hand away, "I can't hurt us anymore."

With that, I turned around sharply, lancing out of the room. my jaw tight and my knuckles red from how hard I grasped the handle of my suitcase. Once I swung my bag into the trunk of the airport car, my resolve broke away. I staggered into the car with a blurry vision and let myself go, crying violently, but silently in the back of the car. My shoulders shook in a frenzy as tears flowed steadily down my cheeks, wondering how I was ever going to return after surviving that farewell.

 It's okay, I told myself.

I'll think about it later.