3 A.M.
Jimin sat on his bed, tears in his eyes, whispering to himself,
I'm nothing to him. He doesn't care about me. I'm just a plaything to him.
He checked his phone. Another text from Yoongi.
Come over. I need you.
Jimin knew he shouldn't have gone, but he fought his gut instinct. He wished to himself that he didn't care about Yoongi as he crept to the large bay window across his room, climbing onto the sturdy elm branch that hung proudly beside his window. He snuck down the impressive tree and quietly dropped to the ground. He brushed himself off and re-fluffed his hair.
He walked down the street to Yoongi's house. It was a large house, and from the outside seemed like any other house, but it was far from it. The screaming matches that had been held and the drunkenly smashed doors hid well behind its seemingly normal facade. The lattice work and window planters protected its true secrets. Jimin threw a small pebble at the only window in the neighborhood that still had its lights on. The curtain flies open and Yoongi's drunk eyes throw a small smile to Jimin. He tried to smile back, but only managed to slightly turn the corners of his mouth. His feet dragged him to the back door, acting out of habit.
The back door crept open to reveal a wasted Yoongi, stumbling over his own feet. He pulled Jimin in and they snuck up to his bedroom door. The door quietly creaked shut. Jimin knew what the night would be like. And what the next day would feel like.
It's all fun and games 'til somebody falls in love.
