Jimin was sweating through his embroidered and itchy golden suit. And no, it wasn't just because of the scorching heat of a midsummer's day. For one thing, he was about to be swarmed by thirty people he did not want to see. Another unfortunate detail was that he was standing awkwardly next to his father in the garden courtyard. No words were exchanged between the two of them since yesterday. There was barely even any acknowledgement that he was there. Jimin felt a familiar pain at the thought of being so distant with his father. He knew the King had never seen him as his own son. However, that didn't make it hurt any less. To make it worse, Jimin could see the girls in the distance from where he stood. The vibrant mass of dresses and jewels were hurtling towards him at unimaginable speeds. Was it just him, or were they not showing any signs of slowing down? In the blink of an eye, Jimin was surrounded.
And so the torture began. His father quickly left him to fend for himself as soon as it started. Jimin was left to suffer; corralled from all directions, having not been able to move an inch for at least a couple hours. In fact, his stiffness slowly began to turn into anxiousness as time went on. He was sweating from the oppression coming from all sides as eager faces pressed in. The constant cloud of perfume was all he could breathe in. Every second, someone was being far too close for comfort. He was either being interrogated or being talked at for eons. Jimin was going crazy.
He didn't even register when he had shouted, "Please excuse me for a minute!" over the commotion. He wrestled his way out of the cocoon of people and headed straight for the castle after a fleeting moment of disorientation.
A few minutes later, Jimin seemed to realize he was in a bathroom, leaning heavily against the stone walls. Grabbing some linen, he began to clean up, fixing his hair and wiping the sweat off his brow. Jimin stared at his reflection in the water basin. As much as he despised the prospect, he knew he had to go back there, lest he want an earful from his father. With a breath of determination, Jimin began the trek back to the castle gardens. He seemed to be walking in a trance. Through the main doors. Across the lush green lawn. Down the cobblestoned path to the garden. Jimin would have kept walking, but froze at the sight of that dreaded mass of colour swarming the courtyard. He knew he had to end up there eventually, but couldn't he postpone this just a little longer?
He turned away, downcast. Jimin was about to try and muster up enough will to force himself forward, when something familiar caught his eye. He began to walk to the side, away from the main garden entrance. He followed the walls of the garden until he came to a familiar door he had not seen in years. His fingers brushed across the cool wood, getting caught on the ivy that had accumulated in almost two decades of neglect. It had obviously not been opened in a long time. He should know. Jimin had not been allowed to play outside after his mother left. That had been a lifetime ago. He could vaguely remember the feel of his mother's hand in his, guiding him here to play. And so he did, like any other toddler would. What his innocent mind didn't know was that his life was about to be turned upside down. Jimin had to think, did his mother even love him then? Had she already been planning to leave them while he basked in the sun as a naive child, not knowing any better?
Even if his mother's love had never been genuine, those were still the happiest times of his life. Jimin was desperate to feel that unbridled happiness just once more. It would likely never happen. And yet a part of him just wanted to be here again, even if it was to be here all alone. He put a hand on the latch and flipped it open. To his dismay, the door was rusted shut. He pushed with all of his might, ramming into the door. He felt the brush of leaves falling down on him as he rammed into the door once more. If. It. Could. Just. Open.
Without warning, the door gave way. Jimin tumbled forward, rolling to a stop on the ground. He groaned for a second, then pushed himself back up. Jimin began to brush off the absurd amount of plant-life stuck to his suit. He mumbled to himself under his breath as he swiped at the leaves. Good thing his landing was so soft. Wait. Soft?
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JiMina Collection
RomanceA collection of 5 JiMina stories. Fate is a fickle thing, for it always finds a way. Highest Rankings: #1 in TWICE, #1 in JIMINA