Butterfly

8. The Bus

"Well, look who it is."

Jimin flashes me his familiar grin, leaning against the bus stop with a cigarette in his fingers like always. I sigh, annoyed, the smoke from his cigarette already reaching my nose.

"Are you ever going to get your car fixed?"

"If I means I can't see you every morning, why would I?"

I throw a pointed look at the cigarette in his hand. "If it means you'll spare me developing lung cancer, I'll pay for the car myself."

His grin disappears and he lowers the cigarette, dropping it, grinding it into the pavement with his toe, no retort. I glance at him, his silence weird, slightly worrying. "Did I say something?"

Jimin shrugs, trying to look nonchalant, pulling out his phone and messing with his hair. "Nope."

We stand in silence until the bus gets there, and we get on, standing next to each other, Jimin's lack of his usual playful, flirty comments weird. Finally I can't stand the silence anymore. "Are you okay?"

He raises an eyebrow slightly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're being weird." I glance up at him, annoyed at myself for even bothering to ask.

Jimin smirks slightly, his heart obviously not into it. "Everyone has a secret, sweetheart."

I raise an eyebrow. "Aren't you the one who said if you bottle it up you'll go insane?"

He raises an eyebrow, mirroring me. "Quoting me now? I don't think your obsession with me is healthy at this point."

I roll my eyes and he smirks slightly. "Don't worry about me, babygirl."

"I'm not."

He chuckles, shifting to stand almost behind me, my side burning where his hand lightly brushes it.

"Sure."

His hand rests on my side, lightly, and I don't move, my breathing slightly unsteady, my cheeks flushing. Jimin leans over slightly, his lips near my ear, his voice low as he slides his hand down slightly, almost to my hip, my skin burning where I can feel the weight of his hand through my shirt.

"You're looking a little red there."

I lift my chin, forcing myself to speak, to sound normal. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jimin chuckles lightly, and it's another minute before he speaks again, his voice lower, his lips almost touching my ear, making a slight shiver run down my spine. I stand stiffly, resisting the urge to lean into his touch, to feel his warmth, the shivers left by his fingers.

"It's almost cute." I can hear the smirk in his voice, and I honestly can't tell if he's playing with me or completely serious.

I can't help it. I turn my head, meeting his eyes, and they're more grey than I thought they were, flecked with brown and gold. He's so close our noses could touch if we both moved forward about an inch, and I can feel his breath, warm on my cheek.

We just stand there, his hand on my side, my face hot, his eyes on mine until the bus stops abruptly, jolting him away from me, and I look away from him, my cheeks hot.

"This is our stop."

I glance up. "What?"

Jimin smirks slightly at my still-red cheeks, knowing I'm flustered. "It's our stop. Our place to get off the bus," he repeats himself slowly and I roll my eyes at him.

"Then move."

-

Sandra smiles at me, taking a sip of her water. "How was your day?"

I remember this morning, Jimin's hand on my side, and I grin a little, my cheeks warming at the memory.

"It was good. Really good."

Sandra grins at me, raising an eyebrow. "What's that look?"

"What look?"

"Oh, come on, you know what I mean." She grins, taking another bite of her pasta. "Tell me!"

I smile a little, shaking my head. "It's nothing. Really."

"Hm." Sandra eyes me suspiciously, playful. "Who is he?"

I widen my eyes at her and she grins. "I was your age, you know. Ten years ago, but still."

"He's just...a guy."

Sandra's eyes widen happily and she leans closer, conspiratorially. "Cute?"

I think of Jimin's smirk, his crooked tooth, his sharp jawline, his soft laugh. "I mean...hot, really, but I guess he could be cute."

"Ooh, that type." Sandra nods. "I used to have a thing for bad boys."

I laugh a bit, twirling my last bit of pasta onto my fork. "He's not a bad boy, exactly, just...I don't know, I guess you'd say the rebellious type."

"Well, that's not necessarily a bad thing." Sandra leans back in her chair, her eyes happy. "So you like this guy?"

I hesitate, then shake my head. "More like...he's interesting."

"Ah." Sandra grins happily, standing, picking up our plates. "I'm really glad you're settling in."

I nod and she starts stacking the dishes, smiling at me. "I've got the dishes."

I hesitate, unsure, then reach out, hugging Sandra tentatively. She stiffens, shocked, then sets down the plates, resting her chin on my head.

"Thank you," I say the words hesitatingly and she smiles, pulling away.

"For what?"

"Just...being here."

Her eyes soften and she smiles at me. "Of course, you're my sister."

"No, I just - " I hesitate, not sure how to phrase it. "You could have just left me where I was, you know? Visited once a month, and...you didn't."

Sandra shrugs a little, and I can see in her eyes how much it means that I'm acknowledging this. She smiles a little at me, a little sadly. "I shouldn't have left when we were younger. I know it's been really rough on you."

I shrug, looking away. "It was only a matter of time before you left anyway."

"I know. I shouldn't have, though."

I smile a little. "I think you've made up for it, dealing with me. I know I was a real bitch when I first moved in."

She laughs a little, her eyes happy. "I think I've made up for it twice over, if we're going off how you acted that first week."

"Hey!"

We both laugh and Sandra hugs me again, smiling. "I love you, sis."

I can't help the grin pulling at the corners of my lips. "Love you too."