"You left that bruise on her wrist didn't you?" Jungkook spits his words in Jimin's face.
"No. I'm not letting you run away again!" I rush up to her and grab at her wrist.
"I don't know all of the things that he told you, Ara. But I can tell you on...
A/N: I cannot tell you guys how happy I am that I finally wrote this chapter! I'm over here fangirling over my own story lol. Anyway I hope you guys love reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And don't forget to VOTE and COMMENT :)
"Jimin!" My high pitched squeal fills the tiny room.
Thin dark stripes cover my vision and I close my eyes, no longer seeing the spinning room around me. My legs float straight in front of me with gravity making them hard to move. Tears fall from my eyes as two strong arms grip around me, spinning me around and around in a spurt of laughter.
The corners of my mouth hurt from smiling uncontrollably and laughing hysterically. Spinning and spinning, Jimin looses his footing and we both fall on the studio ground. His body cushions my fall and I open my eyes to see his deep chocolate ones starting at me. We hold a silent stare but not for long, until we both break out into more contagious laughter. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling with a compelling grin.
Ever since the night a Namjoon's, Jimin and I have been spending more time with each other. It's different knowing that everyday I wake up and know that there is always an angel making sure I'm okay. But some days, my mind gets the best of me and I end up getting to wrapped up in my own head. But then there's days like this.
"How's your back today?" I look over to see Jimin with his hands behind his head, and still looking at the ceiling. The bottom of his shirt rides up a little, revealing the starting outline of his abs.
I give him a simple answer. "Good." The touch of the floor no longer causes pain to the scars, and the gashes are almost completely healed. But to Jimin, it will never matter if they heal or not. He still sees those marks with guilty eyes, and I can't do anything to change that.
Jimin doesn't say anything back. He just looks at the old ceiling with heavy eyes. I reach out to touch his arm. In turn, he tears his gaze away from the above and looks in my general direction, but doesn't look at me directly.
My whole body turns towards him and I prop my head up with my other hand.
"It wasn't your fault, Jimin." I caress his cheek, but he snaps his head back up to the ceiling and doesn't respond.
. . .
Rivers of sweat drip down from both of our foreheads and bodies. The light that illuminated the studio earlier today turned to rays of moonlight shinning in from the few windows. The last chords from the song we've chosen fade into the air. Only the sounds of heavy breathing and the crickets outside are left.
We are frozen at the last pose. Jimin stands strong with one arm at his side and his other hand balancing my limp body in the air. Each time the routine is done I'm still amazed at his ability to hold me in the air and not blink an eye.
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