Park Jimin has layers. He has feelings and wants, trauma and longing to feel like someone other than himself. He hides from his mental disorder, detaching from it as much as he can, but at the end of the day, it follows him wherever he goes. No matt...
^^ this is Kai: 'Mmmh' This ep is very good. I wasn't really a fan of Kai, but I can't deny how sexy he is. Happy birthday to Taehyung, the most interesting and multifaceted man in the world.
Hope you enjoy this little filler.
"Hey, Jimin."
Min Yoongi greeted me as he passed to leave. His guitar was strapped to his back. I smiled and gave him a small wave as the itching in my chest subsided. Even though my compulsion had been fulfilled, I still felt a sinking feeling in my chest. For the past few days, I had felt it accompany the slight longing for Yoongi to come back. I wasn't entirely sure what I wanted him to do if he did come back. Perhaps I just wanted to talk to him some more, perhaps I missed him, perhaps my compulsion had altered without my realization. Once Yoongi was gone, there was nothing I could do but take the sinking feeling to my apartment. I left the elevator on my floor and fished around for my key inside my backpack. Suddenly, my feet stumbled over something noisy. It hissed at me and stood up.
It was a calico cat. She had been perched in front of Yoongi's front door. I recoiled at the sight of it, clutching my back against my chest. Her owner was probably looking for her. The name tag glistened under her furry chin and I squinted my eyes to get a look at it.
Serendipity
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"You're Yoongi's cat. . . makes sense why you're sitting there. How did you get out?" I asked her as if she understood a word I was saying. "Ah, what should I do?" I then asked myself, patting my pants pockets for my phone.
"Jimin? Is everything alright?" Yoongi asked me when He answered the phone. He sounded concerned. It wasn't a usual occurrence for me to be calling me, especially because patients and therapists didn't often call each other outside of office hours.
"Your cat, she got out." I told him, shuffling my feet at serendipity tried pawing at my shoes. "Meow." She said. "Yoongi, what should I do?" I asked him nervously. She was getting too close for comfort. I knew I would have to wash my shoes and pants for the next five days. I even might have to get rid of them altogether. Serie was winning.
"She must have followed me out when I was leaving," Yoongi paused and I could sense his hesitation through the phone.
"Yoongi?" I beckoned.
"I need to ask a favor from you, but I know you'll hate it." He answered. I sighed, knowing what he might say. He knew about my aversion to cats and just why I hated them.
When I was seven years old, there was a cat that lived under my neighbor's house. Whenever my brother and I would play outside, I would bring him leftovers from lunch or breakfast. I had begun feeding him so much that it became a compulsion. I had to feed him, even if my father hit me for 'wasting food.' One day, I want out to feed him and I couldn't find him anywhere. I searched and searched until finally, I found him curled up behind a tree, dead. I was so traumatized, I cried and even had panic attacks for a week after. Eventually, my father found me and beat me for trying to feed him again. After that day, I had begun to feel sever angst whenever I saw any other cat. Eventually, I stopped playing outside because going near the site of his death made me itch. To this day, my father had yet to admit that he killed the cat himself, but I knew he was guilty.
