Chickadee - A Yoonmin Fanfiction

Part 20

•Yoongi•

I wake up in a cold sweat, shuddering from the remnants of a dream. Taking in a deep gasp of air, I struggle to calm myself. It's okay. We're okay. It was only a nightmare.

A small, tired moan breaks the stillness, barely inches from my ear. Looking down at Jimin, I feel my heart stop.

His hand rests gently against my chest, fingers balled into my top. The soft material of my shirt rides partially up my stomach, exposing a swathe of pale skin. I feel a tickle of movement against my belly, raising my head to identify the sensation. With a shiver, I realize that his other arm is wrapped tightly around my waist, fingers pressing against the bare curve of my hip.

The dancer cuddles closer to me, completely unconscious of his position. Sighing a little, he licks the soft ridge of his lips.

He looks so tiny...

Suddenly, I flash back to the dream that woke me up just minutes ago. Jimin...he was there. 

It was the same scene from yesterday, the same memory of my father smashing glass in the kitchen. Only this time, it wasn't my mother hiding in the corner. It was Jimin.

I remember how scared the dancer's expression had been. He was wounded. He was defenceless, but just like my mom, he begged me to leave before I could get hurt.

My father morphed into a devil then, backing me away from his prey.

And I just...ran.

I feel anger rushing through my veins, causing my jaw to tighten ominously. I want to go back. I want to face him, to protect the one precious thing in my life...but I can't. I am helpless against the strength of my own fear, unable to stand up for myself, or defend the people I love. Balling my fists, I determine that next time, I won't be the one to back away.

Jimin stirs at my side, his nose snuffling against my collarbone. I wonder if he can sense how hot my skin is, or the way my breath quickens at his every movement. Unwilling to wake him, I lie perfectly still, waiting for his eyes to open.

The corner of Jimin's mouth turns up in a dream, and he tightens his arms around me, tracing the grove of my hip. His touch sends a shock of electricity through my being. I try to relax, try to stay strong against the force of my emotions, but I can feel my self control slipping with every breath Jimin takes.

Suddenly, the dancer's body freezes, his breath catching in his throat. He's awake.

I watch as a slow blush creeps over  Jimin's features, his eyes flickering open. I can tell he's aware of exactly where his hands are, and the thought that it's embarrassing him makes smirk. Just yesterday night, he was pinning me onto his bed. Does he think this is more forward than that?

"Good morning." I say, my voice laced with suggestion. I want to see him squirm a little before I let this go.

Jimin's hands spring back from my waist. He tries to brush off the gesture, raising his arms into a stretch, but his actions do nothing to fool me.

I leave my shirt exactly where Jimin had it, the pale expanse of my skin causing his cheeks to deepen a shade. Lying back at my side, the dancer fixes me with a guilty expression. "I didn't do that on purpose..." he whispers.

"Didn't you? I ask, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

Jimin buries his face in my chest, wriggling his toes in mortification.

I swear, he could kill me with his shyness.

Before I realize what I am doing, I feel my fingers brushing against the back his neck, toying with his soft locks. Slowly, I trace along his hairline, passing my thumb over his ear.