quixotic | pjm (smut/nsfw)

1

[one°a]

You cast your mind back to the conversation you'd had with Jimin three weeks ago. You'd been at a party and, for once in your life, you'd had a drink - a very large, alcoholic drink.

"Hey babe," you turned to see Jimin, the local fuckboy, eyeing you up and down. His gaze wandering over your face, your cleavage, your crotch, even down to your feet that were enclosed in a rather tight pair of stilettos your friend had let you borrow, or more truthfully, thrust upon you. "This is the first time I've seen you at one of these."

"Firstly, don't 'babe' me Jimin, I'm not your 'babe," You frowned at him, putting him in his place. "And secondly, I've come to parties before, but from what I heard you were always in another room, fucking some drunken half-conscious slut, so I never saw you." You smirked, the alcohol giving you a newly found confidence you didn't think you had.
Jimin glared at you, speechless, and you basked in your victory. Jimin hadn't expected those words from you. Especially you. You were known in the area, not for who you were, but for who you lived with. Your little sister. Your terminally ill, little baby sister, whom you had cared for solely once you managed to get custody of her. Your father wasn't around anymore and your mother had fucked off when you were only 8, leaving you and your 2 year old sister on the doorstep of an orphanage. Two years later, you gave up on your mother ever coming back to get you, and three years after that, you were told your sister had Leukemia. Specifically, Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia (ALL). You were now an adult, and supporting and caring for your sister was all you ever did. You paid her medical bills, you put a roof over her head, you put clothes on her back and you provided the food for her to eat. You were known as Lily's older sister, and nothing else.

"I didn't know you had such a mouth on you," Jimin burst out, trying to be smug and take control of the situation, but failing miserably. It was very clear he didn't know anything about you.

"I have to save my niceties for particular people, and unfortunately, you're not one of them."

"The world isn't a kind place, people don't get to live their lives the way they want to," Jimin sighed, thinking out loud. "I guess I get where you're coming from... I'm sorry about your sister," he smiled at you. It was a pitiful smile - one you hated - but from Jimin it didn't seem to anger you. It was so far from the characteristics of the Jimin you'd heard of that you were actually grateful he'd been so genuine with you. But that gratefulness was gone in mere seconds. "Just so you know, babe, if you ever want to relieve some stress you can always come to me, I'd be willing to help you out."

"For fuck's sake Jimin, I'm done with this conversation." You shoved past him and stumbled over to your friends who looked like they were having fun making weird alcoholic concoctions in the kitchen. You realised you didn't feel quite drunk enough, so you grabbed the tall brown liquid filled glass they were huddled round and downed it, pulling a face afterwards. They looked at you, amused, asking if it tasted okay. It tasted disgusting... but it was worth it - you could already feel the buzz kicking in and the world spinning. You turned round, and caught Jimin staring at you, which was the last thing you saw before collapsing, the alcohol finally giving you what you wanted - peace.

And that was what you thought of as you sat in the back of the ambulance with your unconscious sister, still spewing blood, from her nose, all over her clothes and all over yours. The bleed hadn't stopped after ten minutes had passed, and when she said she felt light-headed, you knew you had to call an ambulance. They'd arrived only minutes after she'd passed out and you were a mess, carrying her out of the house covered in blood, when you saw Jimin across the street, once again, staring at you. The look on his face had given away exactly how he felt. These episodes that you were used to now were not something others could deal with easily. You saw the panic and alarm in his face. The worry in his eyes. And like everyone else you'd encountered when they saw your sister like this, you knew the thought going through their head was that she might be about to die. You knew because you'd been there. The first time it ever happened after you were told about the cancer, you screamed and begged for her to stay alive, praying to a God you didn't believe in. These episodes had become so often, so frequent, that they felt almost insignificant now.

With Jimin's face still implanted in your brain as you sat beside your sister in the back of the ambulance, heading for the nearest hospital, you contemplated Jimin's offer. You'd had casual sex before, but it never worked out. One night stands made you feel worthless for some reason, and longer relationships always died after they'd experience one of your sister's sudden episodes in the middle of the night. You hadn't had sex in months and the prospect of being satisfied, being pleased, and even just being filled, was ever so inviting.