naughty [p.j.m.]

:11:

"You can take that proposal and shove it up your as-"

"Then no phone call." He shook his head. "Goodnight, (y/n), I shall see you tomorrow morning to redress your wound."

Jimin took his time closing the door, his eyes never leaving mine as realization and embarrassment flush across my features. He purposely allowed the door to creek slowly close, waiting for me to change my mind.

I glare defiantly at him. Knowing full well this was a game of chicken. It always was a game of a Chicken with Jimin. I straightened my back and stared straight into his lifeless brown orbs. Playing this game for almost 18 years of our lives he knows full well he won't back down either into the staring contest.

The door closes and I still stare at the cream white painted door, knowing Jimin is just the same.

"I guess you can't ask me questions about your position here in my home." His voice piped up from behind, twisted with cheekiness and a twinge of malignancy.

"I don't need to know." I snorted confidently. I'll find out without having to go to bed with you.

"Too bad, (y/n). One night it's a phone call and all the reasons why I'm keeping you here."

"Reasons?"  I narrowed my eyes. "How many?"

"...7?"

"I'm not going to stoop so low to your level and sleep with a guy I don't like."

"Oh but you do like me." I'm startled at the door opening to see a wide grin stretch mile to mile across his face. "You don't know it, but I do. And you want to know more abo-"

He didn't get to finish. Instead he stopped midway and stared at my figure already down the hall and closing the door on HIM instead.

"Oh your just teasing me, (y/n)."

"Goodnight, Jimin."

And I shut the door.

But not before hearing him imitate a ring of the phone  and see another wide smirk of his face.

***

I couldn't sleep at all in the night. The throbbing in my leg kept my tossing and turning. When I did eventually fall asleep, I had that dream again.

"But I don't wanna marry you, I don't like you!" I holler back at him, a piece of chalk was shoved in my hand.

I studied his face from afar, noticing the tilt of his eyebrows and the thrusted lip in a pout. He stood watching me back, and something hurt inside of me but I didn't know what it was. But I did feel bad.

I bump into something solid and I turn to see a large looming man in front of me. The messy brown hair and that discernible smirk told me it was Jungkook. My younger self always gulped nervously. I never spoke a word, but he would always say something before ending my life right there.

"You're such a naughty girl..." he chuckled before his hands reached for my throat and pressed onto my sternum.

After succumbing to death for the fifth time this week I open my eyes to see the same white-barren room and light reaching past the slits of the curtains onto the wall. The glimmer and decoration of the white curtain made the light shimmer, gold trickling down and painting the colour a nice white.

I am laying on my side, cheek squished against the pillow. I reach a hand to my cheek to find it damp and itching with hot dried tears.

I cried, didn't I?