9pm | p.jm x reader

- sit -

You sit, knees huddled up to your chest, in the corner of the room. The dirty, white shirt, stained crimson red lying in front of you. 

In your terror stricken state, you can't seem to take your eyes off of the red splotches on the cloth. Memories of torture, abuse and death painfully flashing around your head. You almost forget to blink at times as you stare deeper and deeper into the fabric, unable to shake the awful memories from your brain. You have been like this practically all day.

You were finally free of that place, but these boys you were staying with were going to hand you over to more men for money. Then those men would poke and prod at you, and ask you twenty million questions. Why were your parent's murdered? Because they were millionaires? Why didn't they murder you? Because I'm unlucky. How did you escape? I became the murderer. Isn't that ironic?

No, you can't let that happen. You are just going to have to leave this place before you can be handed over. 

Suddenly you hear a knock on the door, jolting you out of your thoughts abruptly, causing you to finally bring your eyes up from the bloodied shirt before you. The sudden banging makes you jump and hold your knees tighter than before, curling up to feel as protected as you possibly could. You sigh, you had never really noticed how mentally damaged and fragile you were, as you had been in that horrible place and never had any time to think about it, honestly it was tiring.

"Hello? Can I come in?" a familiar, sweet voice sounded from behind the thick door. 

"U-Uhm I- Yes sir" you anxiously squeak, further sinking into yourself when the door is swung slowly open. You watch cautiously as a blonde haired boy sticks his head around the edge, his eyes taking a second to find you packed tightly in the corner of the room.

"Sir?" He questions, a small, almost indistinguishable smirk painted on his face. 

"O-oh sorry" you begin to rock a little in your place, uncomfortable and scared, "It's -I was always told to... for them" you trail off, avoiding eye contact.

"Oh I'm sorry" he clears his throat, clearly not expecting that answer and now feeling bad for intruding. "There's no need for that here. You can just call me Jimin-ah, or Chim if you like" his tone lifts a little in an effort to make you feel more welcome. 

You lift your head and smile weakly at the boy from across the room. You watch as he slowly tip-toes further into the room, closing the door carefully as to avoid loud noises and then turning to face you. 

You watch him with caution, fear bubbling inside you as you become all to aware of the fact that you are now alone in a small room with another man, the door shut behind him. The scene plays out in your head at least ten times over. Every time this has ever happened, it ended up with pain, violence and intrusion. 

Jimin stands in front of the door, watching as your heart rate and breathing increase ten fold, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You notice him attempt to step forward towards you, to which you instantly retract, pulling your arms up over your head. 

"Please..." you whisper, hot tears beginning to stream down your face, "Don't do this"

"Woah woah woah" he shouts, instantly bring his hands up to his mouth to quiet himself down, "Y/N no, it's okay, your okay, I'm not going to hurt you" he stands, unsure of whether or not he should come closer or move away.

You move your arms down, just far enough that you can see the boy, your vision blurry from the on-going tears.

"That's it" he coos, "It's okay, your safe here remember?" he puts his hands above his head as if to show he has nothing to harm you with. You just stare at him as he backs up to the door and slides down against it, sitting cross-legged as he faces you. 

You relax a little, knowing he is also sitting, across the room from you. You keep your focus on the boy as he notices the shirt that is neatly lain out in front of you. 

"They are gonna take me, aren't they?" you mumble, looking at the shirt in front of you again. 

Jimin shifts uncomfortably, not replying

"It wasn't my fault" you whisper, the two of you simply staring at the blood stained clothing. "I didn't mean to, I- I didn't want to" 

Jimin directs his gaze to you, turning his head ever-so-slightly as you talk, like a dog who doesn't understand.

"But they took everything from me" you continue, "They took my family, my friends, my home" you look up at him, sniffling slightly, "They took my identity, they took me"

You pick up the shirt and examine it briefly before holding it close to your chest, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to shake the painful flashbacks out of your thoughts. Your fingers now tracing the branding on your wrist.  

"I wasn't like this. I was happy, I was free. I had friends and family... I loved my life. Then they came, and they took everything from me" you clear your throat, trying to compose yourself as much as possible. "I have nothing and no-one left"

 You bring your eyes to Jimin, cautiously watching him as he scoots a little closer to you. You let him get half-way across the floor before making him stop when you begin to flinch in fear.

"I don't know who I am any more, Jimin" you whisper quietly, almost to yourself. 

"Y/N..." he whispers, his is just close enough to you that you can see the slight tears in his eyes as he speaks.

"I know I'm worth a lot to you and your friends, but I can't go to them" you say bluntly, "I waited for 6 years, held up hope that they would find me, find the people who killed my family in cold blood. They never did. I can't go to them" 

He simply nods, not replying to your pleads. With that, the two of you sit in silence. Jimin seeming to try to process all of the information you let slip out. You still sit, knees huddled up to your chest in defence against the man, not trusting his closeness to you. But you feel better, having talked to someone other than your demons about something.

He doesn't press further, he just sits across from you, cross-legged and quiet. A soon comfortable and soft silence, the clock ticking along in time with you and his thoughts, your fingers etching your braised skin in time with its rhythmic ticks. 

You find yourself appreciating his company, and admiring him from a distance, like he is a lion in a cage, serene and beautifully dangerous. If you're not careful, you might end up jumping the fence and running into his arms, right into the lions den. You guess that's when your in real danger... right?

But at least you wouldn't be alone.

☼

꿈은 사막의 푸른 신기루

- This dream is a blue mirage in the desert -