JM: „No, please don't Somin. I love you, I love you so fucking much, do you understand? You can't give up on us, let me explain! I need to see you, please come back home, I'm going crazy without you I-"
S: „There was no "us" to begin with Jimin. It...
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[ im sorry pls continue ]
I rushed out of the bar and searched the entire place for my husband, but when he was not in sight, I slightly panicked.
'he wouldn't leave without me, he's not that cruel'
Just as I expected, Jimin was in the parking lot, his front was leaning on the hood of his car, while he was shouting whatever came in his mind.
"son of a bitch" a growl left his mouth as his fist collided with the bonnet.
"Jimin!" I gasped, rushing to his side.
"please calm down" I reached for his hand, looking for any bruises and cuts.
"look what you did to yourself, you idiot" I muttered, loud enough for him to hear.
"Stay here I'll be back in less than 5 minutes and get you something cold, don't you dare do something stupid" after giving him one hard glare I sprinted back to the bar and asked for a cooling pad. On my way out I bought a water bottle and grabbed some tissues. Just in case I missed one of his injuries that was worse.
When I got back Jimin was no longer standing, his back was leaning against the car while he gulped dark liquor out of a small bottle. God I hated when he drank.
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He looked at me and gave me a lazy smile, which was fake and annoyed me. He knew how much I despised it when he tried to solve his 'problems' by intoxicating himself but he also knew how much I hated it when people hid behind masks and concealed their emotions.
Ironically I did the same but I had no other way, this was my only way to show people that I was fine and Mingyu was treating me like a princess, the only way to keep him from hurting me more. And from then on this turned into my habit.
I sat down next to him and snatched the bottle away, eventually throwing it over his head, till it landed next to a bench, shattering into thousand pieces.
It was hard for me to look at his swollen hand, I feared that he broke his fingers. I was caressing his purple turning knuckles in such a gentle manner that it almost felt like I was trying to pet broken glass. Carefully I placed the cooling pad on his bruise and hoped not to hurt him.
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