My Sleeping Partner | P. JM

For You

"Minah."

"Why don't you do Taekwondo anymore?"

The insides of my mouth instantly go dry at his sweet-voiced question. His eyes are curious as I swallow deeply.

"I want to." I say, my eyes looking towards the clouds out the window because I can't bear to look at his face. "But I can't."

He gives me a serious look. "Minah, if you want to do something, you should do it. Like I dance, I want you to do what you want."

"It's not that simple." I say with a sigh, rubbing the tips of my fingers against each other. "I just can't—"

Then I look up at his face, and the hope in his eyes stun me. It had been a while since a person had looked at me like that, and I didn't want to see it turn into disappointment.

"How about this?"

"Huh?"

"I can't promise you anything yet." I suggest, leaning back against my chair. "But for the three hours of your dance lesson, I'll train in the building next to it."

"Really?"  His eyes grow wide, and he shifts forward in excitement. "You'd do that?"

"I'm doing it for you." I mutter under my breath, thinking that he doesn't hear me. But Jimin suddenly pulls on my hand, and I tense in surprise when I fly off the chair at the swift tug.

He wraps his arms around me and presses his soft lips against the back of my ear.

"I dance for you, did you know that?"

________________________

"Jungkook!"

He's back, his pale face turning a bit more brighter when he sees me and Jimin. His hand subtly reaches up to pull down his sleeves over his wrists, and I purse my lips.

"I'll be at the athletic building." I say, and Jimin nods, giving me a careful look. "Ends in three hours, right?"

"Yeah."

Giving them an encouraging smile, I walk out of the room trying as hard as I can not to give one last look at Jungkook. My hand closes into a small fist— I had to act normal.

It would probably just hurt him more if I pried.

Pulling my hair into a tight ponytail, I breathe in excitedly as I walk into the empty dojo. My heart leaps at the same place where I'd had the sparring session with Im Jisung, which I lost.

Maybe I should've just done this a long time ago, instead of always avoiding everything and running away.

I'd wasted so much time that I could've spent training.

But I would've wasted even more if I didn't have Jimin by my side.

Slipping my shoes off, I flex my bare feet on the cold mats as I do a light stretch. When I aim the curved front of my foot towards the sandbag hanging from the ceiling, I wince at the sudden pain in my kneecap.

But it's not really there.

I knew that for sure— I'd gone to too many doctors and spent way too much money making that one thing certain.
That this pain was just me dreaming it up.