𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 || 𝐕𝐌𝐈𝐍

「 𝟕 」

Here's the angst I promised ☺️
- // -

"A-are you and Mr Park a couple?"

"What?!" Taehyung's eyes grew ten times bigger than before, his jaw dropping open in outrage. "W-where did you get that ridiculous idea?"

"M-mr Seokjin showed me a clip of you two... um..." Jungkook swallowed, instantly regretting his decision. He was concerned that Taehyung and Jimin had relationship issues hence it affected Taehyung's mood.

"Oh. My. God." Taehyung muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. He wanted to drive a scalpel into his boss's heart right there and then, and leave him to die. Maybe set his body on fire after that?

"Are you two okay? I-I was just sad that you seemed so tired, and I thought you had a fight with Mr Park."

"There's nothing between us, and there never will be." Taehyung coldly stated, then opened the door and slammed it behind him.

Jungkook gave a shrug, then a small smile appeared on his face. "I still ship it." He whispered, then walked off to the cafeteria.

- // -

Inside the office, Jimin heard the entire conversation and almost spat the tea he was drinking out.

Why are all my thoughts concerning this man I hate? Why?

The man looked up to see Taehyung slamming the door behind him, red faced.

"Park Jimin, why did you do that to me?" Taehyung's steely voice penetrated the silence, his sharp eyebrows fiercely furrowed, his golden hair majestically ruffled, his large eyes dark and demanding.

"I just didn't want the junior to be under me, is that a problem?" He scoffed, crossing his arms.

"What's wrong with you? Why are you so selfish?" The man's knuckles are white, his voiced laced with desperation and anger.

The latter felt a pang in his chest. True, he might have gone too far, and now Jungcook was under both of them. He regretted every single moment of it.

"ANSWER ME!" Taehyung roared, slamming his fist onto the table. His lips are quivering, veins flushed with incandescent rage that had been built up as years passed.

Jimin didn't know why. He... he simply didn't have an answer. All these years of hate, competition, silent revenge... he'd forgotten why they had even started being enemies. The little lump he had tried to suppress from the start came up, and his eyes burned. Before he knew it, the man's lips were trembling as warm rivulets dripped onto that shirt. His breath was jittery, and his chest fell and rose unevenly. He went rigid as the other walked around him, looking him up and down. It hurt to breathe.

"Answer me." He said quietly.

A sob escaped his mouth. He didn't have an answer. His voice was a gone thing.

Kim Taehyung shut his eyes at the sight of the crying Jimin, opening the door and closing it behind him without a word.

- // -

Jungkook sipped his packet of banana milk innocently, careful not to spill any on his work clothes. He flipped a page of the book he was reading, which was about psychiatric and relationship issues he had miraculously brought with him to work. Who knew it would come in so handy? Who knew whoever had created this loved drama? Half-wondering why he hadn't chosen to work in the psychology department earlier, he glanced up and realised that Mr Kim Taehyung was calling his phone.

"Yes sir?"

"Level four, operating theatre three. Two minutes." Taehyung hung up.

Wow, Jungkook thought, he must be in a really bad mood to call me and say only seven words before hanging up. He quickly ran to the dustbin and threw his empty packet into it then sprinted into the lift, making it to the designated area in record time. Littering was a crime and it never hurt to help the cleaner a little, did it?

"This is probably the few first open heart surgeries you'll encounter, so watch and learn." Taehyung instructed, slipping on a glove, then putting on his mask. Jungkook gave a quick 'yes, sir' then followed suit.

- // -

Jimin took the day off after receiving permission from Seokjin. His mental state couldn't take it, the past was coming back to him and he felt nightmares coming.

His hate relationship with Taehyung now wasn't even bad compared to the past. Before that, Seokjin constantly had to get them out of fights, put them in separate rooms to calm down before continuing work. They were given stern warnings by Seokjin not to fight in case they lost their jobs. As years passed, both had matured a little; their fights mostly consisted of ignoring each other's presence, glaring, and a bit of slamming tables and doors. Let's have a moment of silence for the furniture.

(A/N: 60, 59, 37, 32, 3, 2, 1, now continue with the story.)

Jimin glanced at his shirt. The shirt that didn't belong to him. Kicking off his shoes, he brisk-walked to the bathroom and stripped it off, flinging it into the basket and stepping into the shower.

Sighing, Jimin leaned against the cold glass, water cascading down his back like a massage. The water was hot in comparison, and steam hung in the air as it would in a sauna. The man needed long hot showers like these to calm himself down.

Desperately needing to take his thoughts off Taehyung and the scarred memories, he wondered what he should do next.

I need to return that piece of clothing back to him. Oh god, it's about him again.

Should I dye my hair? What colour? Blue? Red? Orange? Black?

In the end, he opted for silver. When most of the dye was washed away, it would then become black.

(A/N: sorry but yours truly is a hoe for silver jimin, bst era. fight me.)

"Siri, are you there?" He called, after drying himself and changing into a pair of comfortable pants and shirt.

"Is there anything I could help you with." It was a question, yet it ended with a full stop. One of the seven wonders of the world.

"Siri call the hairdresser."

"Calling hairdresser."

Jimin made an appointment with the hairdresser the next morning, for it was getting late. Then he plopped on his pillows and stared at the ceiling, marvelling at the silence in his large house.

It was really empty. Jimin had purchased it a few years back after he had gained popularity in taking risky cases and successfully completing them. It was rather large for a petite man like him, four storeys high, the colour scheme consisting of latte brown, white and darker, wood-like brown. As pretty as it was, he could see dust particles floating around as the moonlight penetrated the window, and he sighed.

He wished it could be filled. He wished for someone, the love of his life, to finally appear in his life, and fill it with joy and moments worth cherishing that he was deprived of. He wished for someone he could cuddle every day, playfully flirt with at meals and in front of guests, kiss whenever he felt needy or alone, laugh and cry with when times were hard. Someone who was caring, but meticulous, loving but serious when the time came. Someone who remembered every detail and planned it out so things went without a hitch.

Someone he wouldn't ever lose.

Someone he could finally love.