MUST HAVE BEEN THE WIND | JIKOOK ✔

CHP 16

The very moment Jimin opens his eyes the next morning, he can feel a brewing headache right between his pain contorted brows. He sits up on the couch painstakingly slow, rubbing at his bleary eyes with a wisp of air parting his chapped lips. The afternoon sun bleeds into the living room, draping his body with warmth.

As a result of his bad dreams, a sheen layer of sweat connects to his face and crests just above his upper lip. He feels hot and sticky with aching muscles not even a bath and medication seems possible to mend.

The last thing he remembers is crying in Jeongguk's arms, only to eventually fall asleep on the very sofa he sits on. Eyes sweeping over the room, he quirks a brow curiously as there's no sign of the policeman. No palpable fragrance of breakfast being midway done or the resonant sound of running water. He's alone, and that scares him.

Very slowly he stands to his feet, grimacing and holding his head. Jimin ambles to the main bathroom, lost in his mind as it proceeds to ache. His body fights his movements and his feet scuff along the hardwood floor during his walk.

As soon as he reaches the bathroom he turns the light on, propping his hands along the sink counter. He scrutinizes his reflection, blotchy red skin and swelled up cheeks. His eyes are heavy and the bags beneath them send no different of a message. It looks as well as feels like somebody has beaten him to a pulp, leaving him abandoned and defenseless. Ironically, that's exactly what he felt during the hectic confrontation with the reporters at the police station.

Jimin begins to undress himself, seeking out a hot bath. His jaw works in frustration as the moment he tries to lift his shirt over his head, a desolate whine spills from his lips as it gets stuck - or rather he gets stuck in the shirt, trying to avoid worsening his tensing muscles further.

The vexation is almost so overpowering to the point that his eyes gloss over in conquering defeat. However he soon feels a different pair of hands tugging at his shirt and champagne pink blossoms on his blotchy cheeks. Clearly they're Jeongguk's but the fact that he can recognize their shape and soft texture makes his stomach flip.

The shirt is pulled off of his torso. Jimin doesn't look elsewhere but the bathtub situated just before him. Despite him already being shirtless in front of Jeongguk once upon a time, the shyness that bubbles within his chest and rises visibly along his face is never any different.

"How are you feeling?" the man suddenly asks and Jimin flinches softly, unaware he was standing so close. Close enough that he can feel molten puffs of air brush the nape of his neck.

And he isn't really sure what to say. He's exhausted and achy. Within his mind rotates a flurry of thoughts, all seemingly knotted together and intangible. The moment he feels like he almost grasps one, it gets tugged right out of his reach impossibly fast.

Jimin's silence seems to be answer enough, though, and as he stares at his still sock clad feet, tugging on his full bottom lip with clear anxiety, the gentle press of soft, shapely lips along the exposed, honey skin of his shoulder sends a shiver rolling down his back.

"G-Gguk," Jimin gasps quietly, simply a wisp of air to the man's name.

Jeongguk hums against his skin, keeping his lips against his shoulder. He moves them around placidly, pressing down every now and then, leaving gentle kisses in their wake.

Jimin turns around slowly to face the man in front of him, all anxiety ebbed away the moment their eyes meet. The teacher isn't sure what to make of the way Jeongguk is looking at him. It almost seems like a combination of pity, sympathy and enamor.

Whatever it may be, it has his heart swelling in his chest and his knees desperate to give way beneath him. His eyes are so god damn pretty, big and round. Brown but with striates of honey, enchanting their owlish shape. The pliant texture of his skin is enhanced under the fluorescent bathroom lights granting him a seraphic glow.