"Jimin?"
"Yes?"
"Are you sure we haven't met before?"
He smiles.
"Not in here, no."
Park Jimin's life is a mess. One night he decides to end it all but on the roof, he encounters a girl who so desperately tries to talk him out of his decision. After...
A/N: Sorry this chapter will be a bit short, since it's a continuation of chapter 8! Hope you still enjoy it:)
HYOJIN POV
"Why don't you stop calling her that before you really regret it."
The snarl in his voice is so venomous it makes me shudder. Iseul, however, feels the full-blown effect of Jimin's threat and slowly retreats back. With the smug look on his face completely changed to scowling and fear, he goes back into the university without a word. Coward.
I let go of the breath I subconsciously had been holding and release my grip on his arm. "God, what a creep." I spit, eyes narrowed fixated on his disappearing figure. Jimin only laughs at my expression, finding my failed attempt to look menacing funny.
"Hey, I can be scary-looking, you know," I retort, trying my best to sound confident.
"Hyojin, the uncertainty in your voice isn't helping your point." Bastard!
Bastard who saved me.
He intertwines his hand with mine, separating my hands from playing with my fingers. "Come on, I want to take you someplace special for dinner." He assures me. I can't wait.
We've been walking for almost 10 minutes now, and he still hasn't left my hand. He keeps looking at the people around us too, almost like a bodyguard would do. I chuckle at his cuteness.
"Jimin, thank you for saving me back there but I think we're pretty much safe now."
He shakes his head, still not looking at me. "You said pretty much, so you're not sure. Plus, who was that guy anyway?"
Something doesn't sit well in his voice as he said the last part. It almost sounded green. I let out a sigh of annoyance.
"Woo Iseul, worldclass asshole, man-bimbo and my partner for a project. Just great," I rant.
The rest of the journey I spent ranting about every single thing that was off about this guy, and Jimin was so patient with me. He was even laughing at the times when I mentioned his stupid Mercedes.
"Seriously though, are you okay? Next time he tries something tell me and I'll come to you," he says sincerely. His thumb was stroking my hand in our intertwined hands, making my heart flutter. I simply nod, too awestruck to respond in words.
"We're here," he alerts me.
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We're stopped at a small roadside vendor. An old woman wearing a navy blue winter coat over her pink apron comes out to greet us.
"Jiminie, long time no see! I missed you," she says lovingly, I can tell they're almost like grandmother and grandson. She pulls him into a tight hug and I can't help but smile at the adorable sight.
"Halmoni (grandmother), this is Hyojin. She's a friend," he smiles endearingly, holding her hand to face me. I smile widely at her.
"Hello, nice to meet you," I say, putting my hand out for a handshake. To my surprise, she pulls me into a big hug and pats my back firmly. Wow, she is strong.
"Any friend of Jiminie is family to me."
My heart warms at her statement, and we go in to sit. I look at Jimin with curiosity, question burning at the tip of my tongue. He mimics my expression with a knowing smile, daring me to go ahead and ask.
"Why is this place special to you?"
He put his hands on the table and looks around.
"My mom used to take me here after dance classes when I was younger, claiming they had the best kimchi jjigae (kimchi stew) that will keep you warm all night in the winter. At first, it only tasted average to me. That's when she told me Halmoni needed money to survive and buy her medication. She taught me that memories and experience add on to the taste, and the more I enjoy my time with her eating Halmoni's kimchi jjigae, the better the taste of it, and I've been coming here ever since. After my mom passed away I stayed away for a while, assuming it'll taste bitter or horrible. This is the first time I've come back over a year."
I listen to his story fully, feeling sad at the mention of his mother. She sounds like such an amazing woman.
"Your mom would be proud of you, Jimin. You've grown to be this amazing person who hides his true heart away because he's wallowing in hurt. The truth is, you're still attached to your mom. That's why you still do dance, isn't it? To translate your pain into passion. Don't be afraid to let it out sometimes. You can't keep bottling your feelings forever, at some point you need to talk it out to the people who care about you; we can't read your dance language."
The atmosphere grows really quiet. I can tell he's at a loss for words. I don't expect him to respond either, just want him to know that I'm here for him, as are his friends.
Soon our food arrives. As we both pick up our utensils to eat, I watch him with anticipation. As he brings the spoon to his mouth and tastes the soup, I place my hand on top of his resting one and stroke it, just like he did with mine before to calm me down.
"How does it taste?" I ask, hope and anticipation shimmering in my eyes.
