Guns and Roses | Yoonmin

eighteen

TW: mentions of the last two chapters and specific graphic scenes

Jimin and Hoseok walk quietly behind each other, Jimin more forced to do so as Hoseok's grip tightens around his wrist. In the background of steps echoing off of marbled floors, and people talking amongst themselves a familiar voice breaks through the confusion creating his state of mind. "Yoongi, what happened in there? Everyone back at the company are sending me articles of you and Jimin." Namjoon and Yoongi stand just outside of the entrance to the outdoor pool, both riddled with concern and stress. "I don't know what happened! Things got out of control so fast, it was hard to just get coherent words out." Yoongis' response grows quieter as he continues, and as Jimin and Hoseok walk into an elevator, Jimin swears that Yoongi stares at him, with uncertainty and remorse, rather than anger.

The elevator ride is deafening, but the distant vibrating and ringing of a phone keeps Hoseok and Jimin's company. Jimin felt terrible, to the point that he wanted to scream, to cry, anything to expel the feeling of his stomach rearranging itself from the inside out. He wasn't sure of what happened either. It was like someone was telling him what to say from far away somewhere, like a pair of eyes were staring down on him so intensely that he was afraid what would happen if they stopped looking away, to do something else. Finally, Hoseok's grip on Jimin's wrist grows less and less until he lets go. Jimin looks down at his arm, where an all too familiar red mark hovers on his skin. His heart picks up in pace as the color lingers, too many memories of staring into the bathroom mirror at the same red marks--flood his already cracking state of mind. He felt like insanity was his only way out, until the ding of the elevator finally reaches his ears. The doors slide open, and Hoseok walks out, continuing to avoid his phones insistent ringing. Air fills Jimin's lungs again as the fresh air from the open hallway windows hits him. Hoseok looks down the hallway to find Jimin gasping, but he looks more relaxed. He gives him a minute or two before gesturing for him to follow him to the room. Jimin, hesitant, follows Hoseok. "Listen, Jimin," Hoseok begins, unlocking their hotel door with his keycard. "I don't really know what you said to Yoongi, I can't read lips, you know? But. . ." Hoseok sighs deeply. "But just know that I do love you." He holds the door open for Jimin, allowing for the smaller male to shuffle into the cold room. Jimin holds onto his wrist, rubbing it with his equally cold hands. "I. . .I know that Yo--Hoseok, I know that Hoseok." He responds, his voice weaker than it had ever been. "Right. I need to meet with Namjoon and Yoongi, I'll be back later, okay?" He says, waiting for Jimin to give him any indication that he's okay. But all he gets is a back handed wave. The door closing causes Jimin to jump, the loud bang interrupting his moment of calm. As soon as Jimin knows Hoseok is gone, down the hall, or at least a few rooms down; he escapes into the bathroom.

The room is larger than Hoseok's bathroom, it's probably the size of a master bathroom, if not slightly larger. Jimin hunches over one of the two sinks, staring down at the mess created from the past few nights of enduring it all. Tears fall from his eyes as the dyed red towels lay, sprawled out. Memories from the night before creep into his head, how he told Hoseok that what he did was okay, when it truly wasn't. And how soon after he'd have to tend to his cut lip in the only room he felt safe in. The bathroom fortunately had a lock, and thick walls. Anything to muffle out the crying, was his mentality. Jimin breathes in deeply, stepping back to lean against the bathroom door. Red was a color he despised now, nothing could change that.

"Room service," a voice rings, once, and then twice. They knock, just to be sure, and enter the room after hearing no responses. "Oh! Sir, I had no idea someone was in here, I'm sorry to intrude." They say, quickly pushing their cleaning cart out of the hotel room. Jimin wants to tell them that they can stay, and that he'll leave, but they're already walking to the next hotel room to ask about needing room service. Jimin pulls the bed sheets and blankets over his body, attempting to doze off into a much needed sleep. The panic from earlier in the day wasn't as present as before, luckily, and so sleeping was the next best option. But as much as he felt himself drifting away, he could still hear the birds from outside, and the water hitting the shore. And he could still feel the everlasting presence of the cut on his lower lip. Jimin slowly gets up once realizing that the front door is still open. He walks towards the door and closes it, making sure to lock it after. He breathes out a sigh. From the other side of his room Jimin's phone buzzes with activity, a few texts asking what happened, more with links to articles--and others from the trainees under him asking if he's okay. And one specifically from Jeongguk asking if he wants to talk, Jimin responds simply to all of the messages; saying the, 'yes I'm okay.' or the, 'I don't know what happened, but I wish it didn't.' He hoped the people he messaged wouldn't notice the sameness between their messages and others', the mental capacity he built up over the hour was already running dry. Jimin opens up some of the articles that were sent to him, skimming over the titles and comments. "Asshole." "Jimin is so rude, unstanned." "And he's a trainee for Bighit? THE bighit? Cancelled!" "Fr fr an asshole, be gone!" Comments written by people who once thought he was everything, were now calling him nothing, and worse. It's not like he even cared that much for their comments, after all he wasn't even a trainee but a choreographer; however the words still stung. They reminded him of the past few months, one day the people love him, and the next they're throwing sticks and stones at him. His fingers graze over the cut on his lip as he shudders. It was time to leave social media for the time being.

After an hour or two passes, Jimin orders dinner from room service, relieved that Hoseok still isn't back yet. It was refreshing, to be alone, though it'd be nice had Yoongi been there with him. "What are you thinking Jimin," he mumbles to himself. "Yoongi probably hates you." He bites back a tear, glancing down at the black screen next to his side. A text would've been nice, but Yoongi doesn't have to give anything to Jimin, because he didn't do anything wrong. Their conversation from earlier in the day appears in Jimin's head just like everything else that day, specific words stick out in the cloudiness. "The things I've seen, been apart of." So out of place in the fight that they almost seemed like a cry of help from Yoongi himself. He was trying to say. . .A clicking sound breaks Jimin's train of thought, as does a banging coming from the lock stopping whoever from getting inside. "Jimin! Why is the door locked?" Hoseok yells, his voice telling Jimin's heartbeat that there's danger near. It takes Jimin a second to catch his breath, startled, he gets up from the bed to let Hoseok inside. "I'm sorry I was just anxious." He responds hesitantly, stepping aside as Hoseok closes the door behind himself. "About?" About you. "About paparazzi finding out where our room is and getting inside." The lie comes easily, and Jimin wishes it didn't. "Ahh. . .Well I spoke to Namjoon and Yoongi, until they left because I had 'too much to drink' as if they know anything." Too much to drink? "What are they going to do?" Jimin asks, keeping as much distance from Hoseok as possible. "They'll release a statement to the press. Something about tensions being high, they'll say you're not actually a trainee and that it was some dumb rumor." Hoseoks' words slur, as he slouches against the wall. "I'm sorry, for causing all of this." Jimin mutters, looking down at the floor. Hoseok's eyes were anything but welcoming. "You should be." He responds, and Jimin's heartbeat increases so much. So damn much. "I am." Jimin's attempt at keeping his cool falls short when a tear escapes his eye, falling onto the ground, staining it with regret. If only he hadn't unlocked that door. "Stop crying, it doesn't look good on you." Hoseok rasps, walking towards the bed. He glances down at Jimin's phone, "You know Jimin, so many people recently have been telling me I drink too much. Well I think you're on your phone too much." Hoseok takes the small device in his hand, as Jimin watches. He can't move, at least he can't bring himself to do it. Hoseok drops his phone onto the hard flooring, it cracks easily, two gashes across the screen. "Problem solved." He mumbles, sitting down on the tousled bed. Jimin walks towards the bed, bending down slowly to reach for his phone while Hoseok isn't looking at him. He couldn't breathe, chest tight with paranoia. "Oh no Jimin, I don't think so."