Work Hard, Play Hard [BTS Harem] {BOOK}

Chapter 19 - Official

Word count: 1728.

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"Jimin, wake up."

The red-haired boy stirred awake with your hand on his shoulder. You were sat at his side, having left Taehyung to occupy the whole bed as he had become to be known for. You brushed his hair from his head and he rubbed his eyes, frowning, confused.

"Where am I?"

"My place. Here, drink," you said, giving him the glass of water that had remained untouched all night. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and took a small sip, wincing at the dryness of his throat. He sipped some more and then held it loosely in his hand, blinking a few times to look up at you. Spotting your concerned face, he smiled, eyes disappearing into thing slits.

"Ah... was I a mess? I'm sorry," he croaked. You laughed and brushed a hand over his puffy cheek.

"No. You were fine. How do you feel?"

Jimin thought about it for a moment then smiled again. "Not bad actually." He paused. "Thanks for letting me stay. I'll pay you back."

You sat up waving your hands. "Well, I couldn't leave you out there, could I? You were out; I couldn't even get you to tell me where you lived."

Jimin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, laughing nervously. You could see the guilt written across his face but it was nothing honestly. You would rather he be safe here, occupying your sofa, than wandering around drunk in the streets, or left to tend to himself at his own home. Peering into the fridge, you let a smile crawl across your lips just imagining a drunken Jimin trying to fit a key into the lock of his home.

"You hurt yourself?"

You glanced over at Jimin, who was sat up on the sofa, watching you.

"What?"

He tapped his neck with his fingers. "Your neck. Looks like a bruise."

You flushed dark red and clamped a hand over the mark immediately, bolting upright and slamming the fridge shut. You took a sharp breath in, trying to find a plausible explanation. Jimin's innocent eyes peeked from behind his glasses until he frowned at them, took them off and wiped them clean with the edge of his shirt. And like a cliché, as soon as he put them back on, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped in realisation.

"Is that...?" he pointed.

You shook your head violently, rushing over to him, waving your hands frantically. A part of you was too embarrassed to even hear the word: hickey, lovebite, whatever. You raised a finger to his lips, as if shushing him so that he wouldn't say it. Your eyebrows knotted together worriedly, hoping that Taehyung had yet to wake up. You hadn't thought of how to talk to him about how he had ravaged your lips and neck lastnight. Should you have been angry? Upset? Disappointed? Or just calm, and explain the situation.

"No, no, no, it's not... it's not what you think."

Jimin peered at your neck and then looked at you suspiciously. "It looks exactly like a-"

You shushed him again, pleading with your eyes, casting a paranoid glance over your shoulder in case Taehyung stumbled out of the bedroom at any moment. Hanging your head you swallowed. "Taehyung, lastnight, he was drunk so he... I mean, we, it wasn't just him..."

Jimin waved his hands, recoiled and made a disgusted expression, scrunching his face up. "I don't need to know more. Thanks."

You sighed with frustration, standing back up, palming the mark on the curve of your neck and shoulder. Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose, from behind his glasses. "He couldn't hold himself back, knowing I was only in the living room?"