MUST HAVE BEEN THE WIND | JIKOOK ✔

CHP 17

Jimin sits still in the bath, staring up at the ceiling while listening to the sound of his heart beating tamely in his chest. And it's almost so quiet and steady to the point that it's foreign. He's grown accustomed to the feeling of it constantly on the verge of either spilling out of his mouth or bursting. The splendid, dulcet sound of white noise from Jeongguk working in the kitchen filters into his ears. Enough to keep him awake however as well in solace.

The man sighs quietly, however, his mellow train of thoughts colliding with the harsh truth of the matter. Jeongguk is still married and Sungwoon is dead. Jimin is still on leave of absence and the policeman is slowly returning to the station in light of the city's first ever and gruesome murder.

The reporter's accusations sit tight in the back of his head. Just faint enough for him to remember the unruly things they said about him - the things they accused him of.

He can recall the way Swungoon always approached him - always touched him like he wanted it. And if he denied the claims or the unaccounted for approaches, matters for him would only worsen. The man would get more persistent in his ways - more violent. Jimin was never strong or confident enough to push him away fully. But it seems Kai had had enough and dealt with him permanently.

Is Jimin thankful? The possiblity he could be floats in the air but quickly drifts away with the wind pouring in through the bathroom window. He's completely unaware of what Kai's intentions are. They could be boundless.

The teacher's thoughts are stirred by the sound of his phone vibrating in his pant pocket. Realistically and taking into consideration his current situation, all temptation should be ebbed away by that alone. But it could be his school trying to get in contact with him.

The man slowly stands up and steps out of the bath and onto the soft mat below, sinking his feet into the pliant material. Jimin grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist, digging into the pocket of his discarded pants, fingers whisking at his phone.

He aligns it with his face and unlocks it, face fallen ashen at the gruesomely detailed text message sent from Kai.

Kai:
You think Sungwoon is
going to be the last of them dead?
Anyone who has ever harmed you -
who has ever touched you will get
their fucking throats slit.
Anyone come to mind?
Your little fling of a police officer.
It would be a shame if he were to
be laying in a pool of his own blood
on the kitchen floor.
Read at 3:23 PM.

Jimin stares at the screen in rapt horror, dropping it to the ground with a loud crash. Very quickly he drops his towel and pulls a new change of clothes over his still partially wet body, running out of the bathroom.

Jimin clumsily makes his way down the corridor, holding himself up with the walls as he makes his way toward the kitchen, terrified. There's no way. He would have heard it. His pulse is ringing in his ears as his heart dances zealously within the walls of his ribcage, eager to break free.

In a now disbelieving haze his eyes fog over. But the sight of Jeongguk still standing over the stove, doing a little dance while tasting the soup to see whether or not it's ready has the teacher's knees colliding with full force against the floor.

The man begins to sob quietly into his hands, relieved. And it doesn't take long for Jeongguk to crouch down just before him, pulling Jimin's face into his hold.

"Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" the policeman asks while brushing a gentle thumb over the plush, wet spot on the teacher's cheek.

"Y-you're okay," Jimin replies weakly, voice broken and overused as he lurches his small fingers into the man's top, staring into his worried eyes.