My Sleeping Partner | P. JM

Masked Dancer

It's warm.

Fluffy, too.

My eyes slit open to a familiar ceiling, and I blink lazily when a worried pair of dark eyes appear in my hazing vision.

"Minah!"

Jimin?

When I force my vision to clear, I realize that his eyes are full of unshed tears. His bottom lip trembles as he tackles me into an embrace, and something wets the side of my face.

Is he crying?

"I-I thought you were dead," He stutters, gripping me tighter. "How could you do that to me, Minah?! I know I was acting selfish, but do you have any idea how scared I was..."

"When— when did you..."

"Do you think I'd come any later than your bedtime?" He mumbles, swiping at his eyes. "I would never leave you alone at night— I'd never take away your sleep like that."

I'm so stupid.

"I was worried, Jimin."

"So you walk around in the middle of a thunderstorm until you collapse?" He exclaims, tears sparkling on his cheeks. "So you can make me worry a thousand times more? Is that what you wanted?"

"I..."

My mind grows blank, and the words freeze on my tongue. I don't know how to explain— I know I've made a mistake. When I don't say anything, Jimin pulls away to look at me.

"I didn't mean it like that," He says, his lips pursed together. "I knew you were worried for me, Minah. But you'll never know how scared I was when I found you— never."

"I'm sorry." I whisper. I should've known my limits last night. And because I hadn't, Jimin had ultimately paid the price.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," He mumbles, pinching my cheeks. "At least you're not dead. Then I really would've been angry."

Then my eyes go wide as I sit up, tugging on his sleeve. "Are you fine now? Don't take her seriously, Jimin. She doesn't understand— she doesn't know how sweet you are. None of them do."

"I know," He assures me, even though I still don't look convinced. "I'm sorry about yesterday— I shouldn't have left you like that. You're my Master—"

"No!" I suddenly exclaim, and he looks at me in surprise.

"I'm not your Master. We're friends, and I swear if you call me that one more time I will throw your flower out the window."

When he looks stunned, I purse my lips. "Okay, I'm probably not going to do that, but still."

"And besides," I add, motioning to his neck. "I love your tattoo, Jimin. It's so pretty. Come here."

His eyes narrowed in question, he shifts over to me so I can see his tattoo. It's a beautifully carved symbol of two dark wings, twisting protectively over what seems to be a rose.

Every detail is perfect as the tips of the wings cross around his neck, spreading downwards toward his upper back.

Jimin touches it self-consciously.