Reflection | PJM

11| little bits

Feeling awkward, you gather your belongings from your locker and head to the private practice room to meet Jimin.

He spent the night at your apartment on Saturday, and you awoke on Sunday feeling like a fool when the energy was much calmer. He graciously wished you well and left after you assured him you were fine.

Today's Monday, the start of a new week. Hopefully, you both could forget what happened over the weekend and continue practices like normal.

You approach the glass door and push slowly, not wanting to barge in and surprise him. When you enter, he's coolly leaning against the speakers, scrolling through his phone.

He hears your light footsteps and greets you with a smile. You bow and set your things on the floor.

He rummages through his bag while you sit nearby, just watching. He pulls out a bunch of snacks. Jellies, crackers, and corn chips.

You turn away and scoff, hoping he doesn't expect you to eat any of those.

"Y/N," he says.

You shoot him a disapproving look but he ignores it. "Come here," he says.

You sigh. "Can we just get started?"

He shakes his head. "We'll begin after you choose a snack. We'll eat it together."

"Jimin!" You whine, but he doesn't let down.

You scoot yourself to where he is and look over your options, giving him a side-eye every now and then. You dismiss the crackers and corn chips, thinking they'll be too salty.

He gladly takes the jellies from your hand and opens the bag. "I love jellies," he says with a smile. He pops one into his mouth and laughs sweetly.

His crooked tooth catches your eye and you return a smile for his cuteness.

He presents a jelly to you and you reluctantly reach out to grab it but he snatches it away. He holds the jelly in front of your mouth. He wants to feed you.

You complain and insist you can feed yourself, but he laughs and holds the jelly in front your mouth anyway. Finally, you give up and let him feed you.

You chew it slowly and for a long time. With every chew, Jimin nods his head until you swallow.

"Good?" He asks.

You nod and weakly smile. You appreciate his efforts but you don't want to be forced to eat.

"I don't want to force you, but it makes me happy to see you eat," he says. It's like he can read your mind.

You let your defenses down and slump your shoulders. "I can only eat a little at time," you confess.

He grabs a handful of jellies and stuffs them into his mouth, chewing vigorously. You can't help but laugh. When he chews most of it down, he says, "As long as you ate one, it's fine. I'll have the rest."

Your heart thumps in your chest. It's that feeling again. A bird flying out of control in a confined space.

He closes the bag of jellies and gets up to stretch. You join him without much thought. You don't mind doing things with him. You want to.

He begins to teach you the choreo for your next assignment, and you commit to performing at your best with an empty mind. There are no more secrets with Jimin. He sees you as you really are, and he truly understands.

You felt exposed at first, but now you feel seen.

By the end of practice, you're completely exhausted but try not to let it show too much. Your chest caves in with every staggered breath and your fingers tremble as you pack your bag.

A hand rests on your shoulder. You turn around to face Jimin's bright eyes. He holds up the rest of the jellies in the opened bag. "Please take them home," he says.

You grin and accept the jellies. "Thanks."

"Don't work yourself too hard. You have nothing to prove to me," he says.

You furrow your brows. "At first you told me to work harder every day. Now you want me to work less?"

"I want you to focus on yourself. And then focus on dance."

You suck your teeth. "You don't have to worry about me personally. You're just my mentor," you respond.

He crosses his arms but he doesn't seem frustrated. His expression is still soft. "You're still a person, and I care what happens to you. Please eat the jellies. When I see you tomorrow, I'll have other snacks for you to choose from."

And with that, he pats you on the back and exits the practice room. You crumple the bag of jellies in your hand and think of throwing them away.

You don't want him to see you as a weak student that needs protection.

As you walk home, you tightly grip the bag of jellies and think of ways to convince Jimin that you're fine without his help.

Once you reach your apartment, you start to calm down and acknowledge your defensiveness. You don't mean to, but your guards are always up. Accepting help from others is difficult for you.

Throwing yourself on the sofa, you reach for the remote and click the TV on.

You're not interested in any programs at the moment, you just want the TV on for background noise while you think.

You release your hold on the jellies and start to compare Jimin to Namjoon.

Namjoon was the only person to ever know about your eating disorder. He was supportive with words but never with actions. On the other hand, Jimin seems to want to be active in your recovery.

Eyes welling with tears, you sit up and look down at your thin, weak legs. You've lost so much weight, and your skin's complexion has even faded. Everything about you looks so unhealthy.

You grab a jelly from the bag and chomp on it aggressively. You want to get better but it's more than mind over matter at this point.

You eat another jelly and lessen the aggression. As you eat more pieces, you feel yourself calming down, and feel closer to Jimin with each bite.

———————

As the week goes by, Jimin brings an array of snacks each day. Always new options, and of tasty variety. Each day you choose one snack and eat it together.

He critiques your dance, and you improve day by day both in attitude and performance.

By the end of the week, you promise Jimin you'll buy your own snacks. He chuckles and shakes his head. "I don't mind feeding you. Let me take you to dinner tomorrow," he says.

Your eyes widen. Dinner? Um, last time you agreed to dinner you ended up puking. "No, thanks. I appreciate it, though," you say.

He encompasses one of your hands with both of his. "I can make food for you at my place," he says genuinely.

You raise your eyebrow at him. "Your place?"

"Don't think of it like that," he retorts. "I just want to make something for you. No pressure."

You feel your palm begin to sweat in his hands so you pull away.

"Okay," you agree, wiping your sweaty hands on your thighs. "I'll see you at your place."