The Siren's Song

Chapter 72- when I see you again

JIMIN POV:

Seeing her after six days is like finally truly breathing. That . Like the knot that had wound itself around my chest, had constricted my lungs and cut off the air is now untangled. And with every moment that I see her, the breathing gets easier. And every moment that I see her a bit of the pain, a bit of the agony and the hell I'd been living in eases- the sight of her safe and alive a balm to the torment I'd gone through.

And though she's alive, she's not whole and hearty- a part of her looks stronger than I'd last seen her, a strength to her posture, to this sort of innate 

And though she's alive, there's bruises and scratches on her face, I see some on her arms when she pushes the fabric of the jumper away, see hints of purpling from under the wide circle of fabric at her throat. And it makes rage bubble and simmer under my skin, an itch that begs to be relieved- niggling at me. Makes concern and worry and rage build up- because she'd fallen into the sea, there had been no rocks at the beach nor in those choppy waters so just how did her body end up bearing physical, visible proof of being battered. 

It makes me wonder just what it is she seems so afraid of, so terrified of. Who is it that holds so much control over her, who leaves their claim of ownership on her?

It's an ugly feeling that rears its head, alongside the determination that I couldn't sit by and watch it happen.

But it's also not just me who seems to think the same, it's not only my eyes that linger on her skin with worry bubbling higher and higher.

I see it in the way Yoongi hyung's jaw tightens as they rove over her face, see it how Jin hyung's eyes tighten and simmer with a boiling bubbling need to protect, trying to physically hold himself back. I see how Jungkookie has a tick in his jaw and Tae's fingers fist tightly into the fabric of his clothes as if he's holding himself back from jerking over and tugging her into his arms. Joon hyung and Hobi hyung look devastated- eyes flickering with pain and horrific thoughts, looking as if their hearts have shattered in the moment our eyes land on her.

And despite having spent six days wondering how she's feeling, whether she's recovering, healing- in that instant of when we walk in and see her, it's as if suddenly I'm weakened, drained. As if six days have taken its toll on me, as if I've been suffering.

And after the last time we'd been near her, seen her, after hearing her voice in the most agonising, excruciating way possible I'd spent six days wondering whether we'd ruined something. Something that went beyond just our fondness for each other, for that silent and powerful magnetic tug towards each other, I'd been terrified that we'd ruined her opening up, her ability to let herself connect to others, to the world.

But then she'd spoken.

She'd spoken again.

And this time it wasn't raw and painful and yanking at my heartstrings, this time it was a breathy soft gasp- as if she exhaled out, gently, as if it was something new.

And the sound of Kookie's name spilling off her lips was a painfully sweet torment. Something I didn't know I'd craved to hear until I'd heard it, until the sound of her soft wavery voice had sent his head jerking up and for tears to spill over her cheeks and share in his- the two of them wet-cheeked as they lean into each other, support each other.

To see them wrapped into each other's arms, limbs intertwined in an embrace was a devastatingly sweet sight- to see them tuck in close, to share that space, to see her tucked into him with his arms wrapped tightly around her, caging her in, protecting her. And yet its her hands that brush tenderly through his hair, that gently cradle him close and hold him through each shake of his shoulder and every shudder that runs through him.