Chapter Text
Jimin didn’t think it would be like this. He never expected to be at home and go days without anyone texting. Weeks without anyone asking him if he wants to get dinner, or coffee, or just hang out. He had pushed them all away. He had struggled after the loss of his partner. But he thought that everyone understood. Couldn’t they understand why he would need space? Jimin supposed it was stupid to think that anyone would wait around for a shitty friend who became entirely self-involved after losing a loved one. But somehow he’d hoped they’d keep asking him to join them. Keep checking on him. Eventually they didn’t, and he was miserable. The distance of his friends on top of the loss of Chan was too much to take.
Jimin pulled on his biggest jacket and stepped out into the freezing night. He looked up, searching the black sky for the moon that the world wouldn’t stop talking about. A super blood wolf moon. Lunar eclipse. Jimin couldn’t help but thinking that he must be okay if something like the moon still mattered. If he didn’t hate living enough to ignore something like an eclipse, he was fine. His depression was under control. It felt like a half-victory. So he sat, watching his breath cloud before his eyes as the moon turned pink above him. He turned off the porch light, but it didn’t help much with the glow of the streetlights polluting the sky. Still, he could see so many stars.
Neighbors passed by in their cars, some staring at Jimin, bundled and sitting on his front steps. Jimin didn’t care if he looked ridiculous. Jimin didn’t care about much of anything these days. As he sat, he remembered laying with his head in Chan’s lap, staring at the stars and feeling his heartbeat in his throat as it had on the day they first said they loved each other. The night sky somehow felt comforting to him. Jimin hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t had much of a reason to stargaze since losing Chan.
Jimin shivered violently and pulled his hands further into his coat. He remembered the feeling of being wrapped in someone’s arms. Kept warm. Loved. He shuddered and blinked fast to keep himself from crying. On nights like these where Jimin felt like giving up, he tried to think of how others would feel if they lost him. He didn’t want anyone to ever miss him the way he had to miss Chan. Jimin wouldn’t wish the unending ache of loss on anyone. He checked his phone. 10 minutes until it was supposed to be at peak visibility. Maybe he should just go inside and go to bed. He looked up again and sighed heavily as the stars became blurred in his tears. A cold tear fell and Jimin saw his breath as puffs of fog in front of him as he lost control and let himself break.
Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. Maybe it would have been best to stay inside. At least then he wasn’t crying. Once he started, it was hard to stop. It had been over a year, and Jimin found that he was able to control his emotions for the most part. There were fewer days where he couldn’t get out of bed. Fewer days where he’d wake with puffy eyes from crying himself to sleep. Jimin had found a way to live. But on days like this, he wondered why he had worked so hard to live. Why had he tried to put the pieces back together. What was there for him if he didn’t have love? If he wasn’t loved by anyone. Jimin shook the thought from his mind. He knew there were people who loved him. But why did it feel so different to know you were loved than to feel cared for? Love from a distance just didn’t have the same effect. Yet Jimin found that on the nights when he felt brave enough to go out and be with his friends, he wished he were back home. Snuggled in bed with Chan’s pillow. The paradox of loneliness. Lonely with or without people around. His soul ached for Chan and nothing and no one could stop the ache.
Jimin let himself cry. The eclipse completely forgotten, Jimin cried until he couldn’t feel cold anymore. Until he couldn’t feel his slipper clad feet. He cried until his chest hurt from sucking in freezing air. He cried until there were no tears left. He wiped his eyes roughly on his scarf and turned his face up at the sky once more. The moon didn’t seem remarkable to him anymore. With a deep breath, he pulled himself to his feet and went inside. He kicked off his slippers and dropped his coat on a chair inside the door. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been out there and his body was shaking from the effort of trying to warm himself up. Jimin sat down on the floor just inside his door, leaning back against it and rubbed his feet between his hands. As he sat, there was a knock on the door. Jimin startled and hit his head on the doorknob as he stood up.
“Fuck!” he yelled loudly, pulling the door open at the same time.
“Oh, um, I’m sorry to bother you. I can go ask someone else…” a voice said.
Jimin opened the door a little further and saw a face he recognized but couldn’t quite place. His neighbor. He must be around Jimin’s age. They had always been cordial but had never introduced themselves.
“No—I’m sorry, I just hit my head is all,” Jimin said. He could feel his body still shaking from sitting in the cold so long, and now the frigid night air was giving him goosebumps.
“Sorry, I just, well I locked myself out,” the man said.
“O-oh, u-u-um, w-well, d-do you w-want t-t-to come in?” Jimin managed to say through chattering teeth.
“Shit, are you okay?” the man asked.
“Ye-yes, c-come in and I-I’ll ex-p-plain,” Jimin said, now annoyed that they were still standing here, Jimin freezing with the door open.
The man bowed low before stepping past Jimin’s extended hand and into Jimin’s house. His dark brown hair fell into his face and covered his thick rimmed glasses briefly before he swept it back.
“Kim Namjoon,” he said, extending his hand to Jimin.
“P-Park Jimin,” Jimin said, taking Namjoon’s hand after pushing the door shut behind him. “S-sorry, I was outside for t-the eclipse and might have s-st-stayed out too long,” Jimin explained. His body still shook uncontrollably.
“Oh my god! You could have hypothermia! Here, let me,” Namjoon said, extending his hands to Jimin as if offering a hug.
Jimin tilted his head slightly at the stranger. Was he really offering to warm Jimin up? “Umm…” he said, confused and still startled by the sudden encounter. He rubbed his head and flinched as his hand brushed the spot where he had stood up into the doorknob, he felt a slight bit of moisture and was sure he had broken the skin.
“Oh, sorry, I’m not being weird, it’s just that body heat is the best way to warm someone up…” Namjoon’s face turned bright red and Jimin found himself feeling sorry for him. He took a step forward and let Namjoon wrap his arms around him. “You’re shaking!” Namjoon said. “How long were you out there?”
“Um, what time is it?” Jimin asked. Truthfully, he didn’t know how long he had sat and cried.
“11:45.”
“Oh, I guess I was out there for almost two hours,” Jimin replied.
“Shit, no wonder you’re shaking.” Namjoon rubbed his hands up and down Jimin’s arms and across his back. It had been so long since anyone had hugged Jimin like this. It felt safe and comforting in a way that he barely remembered.
“So, you locked yourself out?” Jimin asked, trying to cover the silence as he stood in a strangers arms, letting the man warm him up. The situation was so stupid that Jimin almost didn’t believe it was real.
“Oh, um, yeah. I went to watch the eclipse on my back patio and, well… My friend has a key but I locked my phone in my house too…”
“Oh, um, you can borrow mine. Do you know their number?” Jimin asked. He leaned back slightly to look into Namjoon’s face. Namjoon’s face flushed deep red and his eyes went wide. They were deep brown and looked somehow friendly. Namjoon sighed heavily and shook his head.
“I’ll just, um, maybe send them a message on Twitter?” he suggested.
“Sure!” Jimin said. He started to pull away to turn and grab his phone but Namjoon stopped him.
“Shit— Jimin-sshi, your head is bleeding!” he said.
“Oh, um, yeah, I hit my head on the doorknob when you knocked. Got scared.” Jimin’s face was bright red and he lifted his hand to the throbbing spot on his head to check the damage. His hand came away with a dark red dripping from it.
“Jimin-sshi, I think you might need stitches… Mind if I take a look?” Namjoon asked. He was now holding Jimin’s arms. Jimin had stopped shaking but still felt cold. He nodded.
“Yeah, I think you may need to go get this checked out…” Namjoon said softly after he moved Jimin’s hair around to get a better look. “There’s a lot of blood here…”
“Well, let me get you my phone really quick so you can call your friend. I’ll take a cab to the hospital once you’re squared away.”
“Oh, um, I could go with you...” Namjoon offered. He looked at his feet and bit his lip as he waited for Jimin to answer. “I mean, I don’t want to impose but I’d hate for you to have a concussion and be alone in a cab…” he said.
Jimin wasn’t sure what to think. This entire interaction had been so unexpected. Blood moon indeed, he thought. “Thank you,” he replied. Jimin hated hospitals. He hadn’t been in a hospital since he lost Chan and honestly wasn’t sure he could do it alone. Sure, Namjoon was basically a stranger, but it beat going alone. And if he got lucky, maybe Namjoon would be a murderer and put him out of his misery. Jimin chuckled slightly at his ridiculous dark thought and Namjoon cleared his throat.
“So, um, do you want me to take you?” Namjoon asked. He sounded nervous and for some reason Jimin found it endearing.
“Oh, uh, yeah, that would be great actually. I kind of hate hospitals,” he said, not sure why he added that last part. “I’ll call a cab.”
25 minutes later, Jimin sat in the waiting room of the emergency room with Namjoon at his side. Namjoon was nervously tapping his hand on his knee and for some reason Jimin found the sound to be soothing. He looked down at the form the nurse had given him and started to write his name. Something warm trickled down his ear and he reached up to wipe it. Blood.
“Um, would you maybe grab me a tissue please, Namjoon-sshi?” he asked, holding his hand up and trying not to let the blood drip onto the paper. Namjoon’s eyes widened and he stood. He walked to the front desk and addressed the nurse.
“Um, excuse me? My friend is bleeding pretty badly. Do you know how long it will be until he can be seen?” Namjoon asked. His voice was deep and smooth but was filled with concern. The nurse looked up at Namjoon and then leaned to look around him at Jimin, who now had blood dripping down his ear and all over the side of his neck.
“I’ll be right with you,” she said to Jimin, sounding unconcerned.
“There is no one else here, could you just take a look at him quickly?” Namjoon persisted. The nurse sighed heavily and looked back at Namjoon.
“Sir, you will have to wait.”
“Namjoon-sshi, it’s okay,” Jimin said, beckoning Namjoon back to him. Namjoon scowled at the nurse and grabbed an entire box of tissues from the reception desk before walking back to join Jimin.
“Here, let me,” Namjoon said. He took the clipboard with the form from Jimin and set it on a chair. Then, kneeling in front of Jimin, Namjoon took a handful of tissues and carefully wiped the blood from Jimin’s neck and ear. “I don’t wanna touch where it hurts, so um, do you wanna put pressure on it?” he asked Jimin, handing him a clean set of tissues and looking up into Jimin’s eyes. Jimin blushed. He wasn’t sure why.
“Oh, sure, thanks,” he said. Namjoon was still kneeling in front of him, hands full of bloody tissue and his eyes so filled with concern that Jimin couldn’t think straight. Maybe he was just starved for attention, but having Namjoon here felt good. Namjoon set a hand on Jimin’s knee before pulling it back sharply.
“Sorry! I don’t know why I did that, Jimin-sshi,” he said as he stood and walked to a trashcan. Jimin noticed him rubbing his still blushing face.
“Um, just Jimin is fine, or hyung? Um, how old are you?”
“26,” Namjoon replied.
“Oh, then just Jimin is fine, Namjoon-sshi.”
“How old are you?”
“25,” Jimin replied.
“You can call me hyung if you want to.” Namjoon smiled and revealed a set of the deepest dimples Jimin had ever seen.
“Okay, hyung. Thanks for coming with me,” Jimin said as Namjoon returned to sit next to him. Jimin’s hand was pressed to his throbbing head.
“Of course, I mean, it’s basically my fault. I locked myself out and scared the shit out of you so you hit your head on the doorknob!” Namjoon said, somewhat playfully but Jimin didn’t miss the hint of self deprecation in his voice.
“Hey!” Jimin said, using his free hand to swat playfully at Namjoon’s knee. “You didn’t scare the shit out of me!” Namjoon laughed.
“Park Jimin? I’ll take you back now,” the nurse called from the front desk. Jimin stood and started to walk toward the desk but stopped and turned back to Namjoon.
“Um, hyung, would you mind coming back with me?” Jimin asked. He felt shy all of a sudden, which was strange considering the nature of their interactions that night. Namjoon had spent the first 10 minutes that they had known each other hugging Jimin out of near-hypothermia. Namjoon stood quickly and rushed forward, tripping slightly over his shoes and laughing at himself. The nurse gave an annoyed sigh and directed them through a large door. She pointed to a bed in a corner with no privacy curtain and asked them to wait there for her.
Jimin started to make his way toward the bed she indicated but stopped. The sound of monitors beeping stopped him in his tracks. The sound of a monitor flatlining, one solid beeping sound rushed into his mind. He tried to shake it away and willed his feet to move forward but they wouldn’t. Jimin felt his vision blurring. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t ready. Maybe he’d never be ready. Jimin turned and walked back through the still open door and toward the hospital exit.
“Jimin, wait!” Namjoon said, catching up to him and reaching for his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Jimin blinked past the moisture blurring his eyes and felt his head swimming. “I-I can’t…” he said. His head throbbed miserably.
“Jimin, um, you’ve got to get your head looked at…” Namjoon said.
“Hyung, I can’t be here. It’s too hard. It’s like reliving— it’s—” Jimin’s voice caught in his throat and his chest tightened. He fought to stay calm and tried to take deep breaths, but each breath he took felt smaller and smaller. The beeping sound still rang through his ears. He saw Chan hooked up to a monitor. Heard the sound of the machine indicating that his heart had stopped. Heard his own voice screaming. Why couldn’t he get enough air? He felt like he was suffocating. He gasped desperately for air, and felt his knees buckle, hitting the ground hard.
“I’m going to pick you up now, okay?” Namjoon asked. He waited for a split second to give Jimin a chance to say no and then stooped low and pulled Jimin into his arms. The nurse pulled the door open for Namjoon and directed him to a room right next to a nurses station with a frosted glass door.
“Here, set him here,” she said. Her voice held no trace of the annoyance from a few minutes ago, pulling the door closed behind herself and drowning the other sounds of the emergency room out.
“Honey, I need you to breathe for me,” she said calmly as Namjoon set a hyperventilating Jimin on the hospital bed and started to step away. Jimin frantically reached for Namjoon, grabbing his arm. Namjoon returned to Jimin’s side and sat next to him on the bed. He put his hand on the back of Jimin’s neck and started massaging gently and speaking soothingly to him as the nurse worked to grab an oxygen mask. Jimin gagged and choked. He felt like he was dying. He wished he was dying. Chan’s lifeless face flashed through his mind. He shook his head hard and tried to breathe past the choking sensation gripping his throat.
“I—c-c-an’t b-b-breathe—” he spat.
“I’m going to give you some oxygen,” the nurse said, her voice still calm as she placed a mask over Jimin’s nose and mouth. Namjoon continued to rub Jimin’s neck gently and then moved his hand and rubbed Jimin’s back between his shoulder blades.
“Jimin, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he said.
The nurse knelt on the ground in front of Jimin and spoke softly to him asking him to focus on her and take deep breaths. Jimin tried hard to follow her instructions. The hand on his back was calming and he felt the tightness dissipating. His breath slowed.
“That’s right,” the nurse said, “Just like that. Slow, deep breaths.”
“You’re doing great, Jimin,” Namjoon said.
Jimin felt blood dripping down his neck as he continued to focus on each breath. He saw the nurse move to turn on a monitor near him and panicked.
“Please! No! I can’t!” he said, louder than he intended.
“You don’t like the monitor?” the nurse asked gently.
Jimin shook his head and then flinched at the pain. “The sound,” he said, knowing that he wasn’t fully answering the question, but still trying too hard to breathe normally to care.
“I’ll need to get your vitals, but I can wait until you’ve calmed down,” she said.
“Thank you,” Namjoon said. Jimin felt him squeeze the back of his neck and reached for his hand without thinking. The oxygen mask felt unnecessary and uncomfortable. Too medical.
“Can I take this off?” he asked. The nurse moved to help him lift the mask carefully off of his head and glanced at his bleeding wound.
“Looks like you might need a few stitches,” she said. “I’ll send the doctor in shortly. Please do your best to relax.” The nurse walked away and pulled the door shut behind her. Jimin listened for a minute and was relieved to hear that the door blocked the sounds of the ER.
“Do you want to sit back?” Namjoon asked, starting to stand.
“No,” Jimin said in a whisper.
“Okay, um, do you need anything?” Namjoon asked. Jimin shook his head and gripped Namjoon’s hand tighter as if to say that what he needed was him. Jimin wasn’t sure why he felt safe with Namjoon, but he knew that he did. He thought he should feel embarrassed at his desperation for someone to care about him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Jimin felt Namjoon drop his hand from his neck and slide it gently up and down his back.
“Thank you,” he said in a very small voice.
“Oh, of course, Jimin,” Namjoon said. His eyes were still wide and he looked more scared than he was acting. They sat in silence, Jimin still focusing hard on his breathing. He didn’t want to lose control. It was all too similar. It felt too much like the worst day of his life. The day he’d seen his nightmares come true. The day Chan had left him. He felt his heart begin to race and took another deep breath.
“What time is it?” Jimin asked, needing a distraction from his thoughts.
“It’s almost 1:30,” Namjoon replied, his hand still rubbing Jimin’s back.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Jimin said. He turned to look at Namjoon and saw his eyes widen.
“Um, Jimin, I think that shirt is going to be ruined,” he said, gesturing to Jimin’s head and the blood dripping off of his ear and onto his shirt. Jimin hadn’t noticed but now felt that his shirt was soaked in blood. There was a knock at the door.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Han,” a man said as he stepped into the room and bowed low. “Looks like you’ve got yourself quite a head wound. What happened?”
“I stood up under a doorknob,” Jimin replied. The doctor stepped forward and Namjoon shifted to stand. Jimin felt Namjoon tighten his grip on his hand as if to tell him he wasn’t leaving, just standing to get out of the way. Dr. Han stood over Jimin and moved his blood tinged blonde hair out of the way to get a better look.
“Head wounds tend to bleed a lot, but fortunately this one looks to be minor. Just a couple stitches and you’ll be on your way,” he said. “I’ll be right back and we’ll get you taken care of.” He bowed again as he left and Jimin tugged gently on Namjoon’s hand. Namjoon was standing a couple feet from the bed, their hands stretched between them.
“Come back,” Jimin said. He could hear how pathetic he must sound, but he didn’t care. He was miserable, and Namjoon made him feel better. Namjoon chuckled softly. His face flushed as he sat down again next to Jimin and returned to rubbing his back.
“You okay now?” Namjoon asked.
“Um,” Jimin said. He stopped and considered. He’d had a panic attack twice before. Once on the day Chan died and once just a few days after his memorial service. He had avoided hospitals ever since. Hadn’t gone when his sister had a baby, hadn’t gone with his mom when she had knee surgery. He just couldn’t do it. Today had been so unexpected and Jimin was thankful he hadn’t had to deal with it alone. “Yeah, I think so,” he finished.
“Good,” Namjoon said, squeezing the hand Jimin was gripping as if his life depended on it.
The door opened again and Namjoon moved to stand but was told he could stay put and that it might help Jimin if he had a hand to hold. The doctor explained what he was going to do and that he’d be numbing the area before beginning. He had a small cart with supplies. Jimin shut his eyes tight and felt his chest tighten again. Something about seeing the tools brought him back once again to the last time he ever saw Chan. He felt his breath quicken but before he could lose himself, Namjoon had wrapped his arm firmly around Jimin’s shoulder. He was speaking softly into Jimin’s ear.
“You’re okay, Jimin. Breathe…” he said, over and over. The doctor moved to stand in front of Jimin.
“My nurse tells me you’ve got a bit of anxiety,” he stated, not really asking. “I’d like to get your head taken care of, but I need you to calm down a little bit in order to do that.”
Jimin didn’t say anything. He fixed his eyes on the floor and tried to take deep breaths. Maybe if he closed his eyes he wouldn’t be reminded. He shut his eyes tight and heard the doctor ask Namjoon what he could do to help.
“Um, he doesn’t like hospitals,” Namjoon answered helplessly.
“Jimin, can I give you something to help you calm down?” the doctor asked Jimin kindly. Jimin’s eyes were still squeezed shut but he nodded. “I’ll be right back,” the doctor said.
“Jimin, you’re doing great,” Namjoon said. They sat in silence until the doctor returned with a small pill and a paper cup with water. He extended it to Jimin who released Namjoon’s hand to take it.
“What is it?” Jimin asked.
“It’s a fast acting anti-anxiety medicine. It might make you a little sleepy, but should help a lot,” the doctor answered. Jimin tossed the pill into his mouth and followed it with a sip of water, handing the cup back to the doctor who tossed it into a trashcan. Jimin reached again for Namjoon’s hand. Namjoon grabbed it without hesitation and squeezed it reassuringly. The doctor moved the cart behind Jimin and began to look at Jimin’s head. He explained that he would start by numbing it and then do the stitches. It wouldn’t take long and Jimin would be heading home before he knew it. Jimin took a deep breath.
“Okay, I’m ready,” he said. He was sure the medicine hadn’t kicked in yet, but now that he couldn’t see the supply cart, he felt somewhat better. He felt a sharp pain and gasped, squeezing Namjoon’s hand.
“That’s the worst part,” the doctor said. “You’ll be numb for the rest. Only pressure from here on out.” The doctor worked and Jimin felt the strange sensation of his skin being pulled. Within a few minutes the doctor was pulling off his gloves and tossing them into a trashcan. “You did good! How do you feel?” he asked.
“Um, I’m okay,” Jimin replied. Truthfully he felt like shit. His head still hurt, he was covered in blood and he had just had a panic attack. He was embarrassed to have had multiple breakdowns in front of a stranger, but even more embarrassed that he didn’t want to let go of said stranger’s hand.
“You’ve likely got a minor concussion, so it’s best if someone can stay with you tonight and just keep an eye on you, okay?” the doctor asked. Jimin looked up quickly.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Namjoon said. The doctor nodded and gave Jimin a pain medication along with instructions to see his regular doctor about his anxiety. Jimin nodded and thanked the doctor bowing awkwardly from his seated position as the doctor left. “Um, I can stay, or I can call someone for you,” Namjoon said. “I’m sorry, I just kind of blurted that out. I don’t know what I was—”
“Stay,” Jimin said. “I mean, please. I’d like it if you stayed.” He felt his face flood with heat, now fully aware that he had asked a complete stranger to stay with him in his house. Overnight. But Namjoon didn’t feel like a stranger. In the span of three hours, Namjoon had seen Jimin at his worst, and been nothing but calm and sweet. He hadn’t pried about why Jimin didn’t like hospitals, hadn’t scolded Jimin for sitting outside in the middle of winter for over two hours, and had managed to help Jimin calm down.
“Okay, I’ll have my friend meet me tomorrow to give me the spare key,” Namjoon said. He smiled and his dimples showed again. “Shall we?” he asked, standing and gesturing to the door. Jimin looked at the door and hesitated.
“Um, I can hear the monitors out there,” he said. He didn’t want to hear them. Didn’t want to even think about that sound. The sound that haunted him.
“Oh, um, okay. Could you maybe plug your ears?” Namjoon asked. “Sorry, that’s stupid.”
“No, I’ll do that.” Jimin knew he would look ridiculous but was well past the point of caring. He shoved his pointer finger into each of his ears and stood, nodding at Namjoon that it was okay to open the door. Namjoon pulled and waited for Jimin before wrapping his arm around his shoulders and gripping firmly. Jimin heard the muffled sound of Namjoon speaking to the nurse as they passed. He kept his fingers in his ears until they had exited the hospital and were outside again. He shivered.
“Oops, we should call a cab,” Jimin said. He glanced back at the doors and considered if it was worth going back inside or waiting in the cold.
“There’s one up there, I’ll see if he’s available for hire,” Namjoon said, pointing to a cab parked with it’s lights on a short distance away. He removed his hand from Jimin’s shoulder and ran toward the car. Jimin couldn’t help but notice how long his legs were as he ran. He watched Namjoon lean into the cab window and then emerge, waving at him. Jimin shivered and started to walk toward the car but Namjoon ran back toward him. “He’ll come get you,” he shouted as he approached. The cab pulled up and the two climbed inside. Jimin gave his address and leaned back against the seat. What a bizarre night.
Jimin pulled the door open and stepped inside, waiting for Namjoon to follow. They took off their shoes and suddenly Jimin panicked. He hadn’t expected to have someone staying with him.
“Um, would you mind just hanging out here for a minute while I go straighten up a bit?” he asked Namjoon. Namjoon nodded. “Feel free to have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”
Jimin raced out of the entry and through his small living room. He wanted to make sure the dishes were at least in the sink and not all over the kitchen. He rushed around and cleaned as much of the kitchen as he could before returning to the living room to see Namjoon sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the couch, his hands folded in his lap. He looked up sharply when Jimin reentered the room and stood.
“Sorry about that, hyung. I wasn’t expecting visitors,” Jimin said, his face flush from rushing around and in embarrassment.
“Oh, Jimin that’s okay, please don’t worry. No judgement from me.”
“So, um, do you want a cup of tea before we get some sleep?” Jimin asked.
“Yes, please.”
Jimin gestured for Namjoon to follow him into the kitchen and watched as Namjoon glanced around.
“You’ve got impeccable decorating style,” Namjoon said. “I love this piece,” Namjoon added, gesturing to a large piece of geometric art made out of wood pieces. Chan had made it.
“Oh, no, that was my partner. I’m worthless at decorating,” Jimin replied, as he busied himself with the tea kettle.
“Oh, um, is your partner going to mind me staying the night?"
Jimin’s heart leapt into his throat and he set the kettle down onto the stove with a bit more force than he intended before gripping the edge of the countertop. He took a stabilizing breath and, staring down at the counter he replied, “Oh, um, he passed away.”
“Shit—Jimin I’m so sorry—I shouldn’t have— I’m sorry,” Namjoon replied. His voice shook slightly and Jimin felt bad. He always hated this part. He wasn’t ashamed of his story, but it was hard to tell strangers about it. Losing a partner at his age was shocking to many. On more than one occasion he’d been in the middle of a conversation and had the person simply leave once they found out that Jimin had been “widowed” so to speak. Jimin sighed. His hands still gripped the counter and he tried to think of a way to normalize the situation. That’s what Jimin was best at. He internalized the pain because he hated seeing people uncomfortable by his circumstances and more than that, he hated being vulnerable. As he stood, he felt a hand on his back, warm and covering most of his shoulder. He stiffened instinctively but turned when Namjoon pulled his hand back in reaction.
“No, it’s okay,” Jimin said. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was saying was okay. It sure as hell wasn’t okay that the love of his life had died, but it was okay to talk about it, and it was okay for Namjoon to try to comfort him.
“Um, can I hug you?” Namjoon asked. He was looking down at the hand he’d set on Jimin’s back, his other hand playing with his own fingers. Jimin answered the question by stepping toward Namjoon and opening his arms. Namjoon took a big step forward and pulled Jimin close. He rubbed his hands on Jimin’s back the way he had when Jimin had been hyperventilating. Jimin’s head rested on Namjoon’s chest and he could hear his heartbeat. Fast. Strong. He shuddered slightly. Jimin knew it didn’t make sense, but he hated the sound of a heartbeat.
“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked when he felt Jimin shudder.
“Oh, yeah I’m okay. Sorry, I’m not usually such a mess,” Jimin said. “Well, I didn’t used to be,” he added, realizing that he definitely wasn’t the same person now that he used to be.
“You’re not a mess,” Namjoon replied. At that, Jimin sighed and returned to the kettle to poor them each a cup of tea.
“Do you take honey or sugar?”
“No thank you,” Namjoon replied, looking down at his hands again. Jimin could tell he was nervous. He poured the steaming liquid from the kettle and handed the mug to Namjoon. “I’m so sorry for intruding,” Namjoon said, his voice quiet. “And I’m sorry about your head—Oh, how is your head feeling?”
“I’ve felt better for sure,” Jimin replied. He gestured for Namjoon to follow him back to the living room and offered Namjoon first choice of seats. Namjoon took a seat on the love seat and Jimin sat next to him.
“Maybe you should take one of those painkillers the doctor gave you?” Namjoon said between sips of his tea.
“Oh, I forgot about them,” Jimin said, setting his mug on the coffee table and standing. He walked to the front door where his coat was hanging and reached into the pocket for the small bottle. He read the instructions and pulled one pill from the bottle and returned to the couch. Using his tea, he took the pill and then leaned back. “So, um, how long have you lived next door?” he asked Namjoon. He knew he had seen Namjoon around but had become kind of a recluse and didn’t really know any of his neighbors.
“About 4 months,” Namjoon replied. “I moved here to take over the family business.”
“What do you do?” Jimin asked, liking that the attention was off him.
Namjoon sipped his tea before answering. “I run a bookstore. The little one just a block over,” he replied.
“Oh! I love that place! I don’t know how I’ve not seen you. I used to go there all the time. Haven’t been lately though.”
“Thank you! I’m proud of it,” Namjoon blushed and breathed into his tea, causing steam to flood his glasses. He laughed and looked at Jimin with huge dimples. Jimin couldn’t help but smile. “So, what do you do?” Namjoon asked.
“Oh, I’m a choreographer. I work with a couple of local dance studios,” Jimin replied softly. His eyes were heavy from the painkiller.
“Wow. That’s incredible.” Namjoon’s voice was quiet and he seemed to be deep in thought. “Was your partner a dancer too?”
“Uh, no, more of a musician.”
“I’m sorry for asking, it’s just that picture behind you,” Namjoon gestured to a small picture frame on the side table. Jimin and Chan in the quintessential Dirty Dancing pose. Jimin, held safely in the air with a huge smile on his face, Chan’s arms bursting with muscle. His eyes turned up and looking at Jimin like he was the only person in the world.
Jimin glanced at the picture and then squeezed his eyes shut. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he had found someone who loved him like Chan did. He’d gone so long thinking he’d be alone forever and then had found the one. His perfect match. The person who made him laugh and made him feel secure like no one ever had before. And then he was gone. It was over, and Jimin was left all alone to wonder if it had all just been a dream. He opened his eyes.
“We danced together sometimes, just for fun,” Jimin supplied to break the silence.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Namjoon said. Jimin looked at him and saw a sadness in his face that was surprisingly sincere. “And I’m sorry for prying. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind talking about him. People normally don’t want to hear. I think it makes them uncomfortable.”
“Not me. I like to know what makes people who they are… Sorry, that sounds so cheesy…”
“I think it’s sweet.” The pair sat in silence and finished their tea. Jimin was finding it hard to keep his eyes open so eventually found a couple of pillows and an extra blanket and brought them for Namjoon.
“Please make yourself comfortable,” Jimin said as he made a makeshift bed for Namjoon on the couch. “Um, you can use my iPad to send your friend a message on twitter about your key. I’ve logged out, so have at it.”
Namjoon thanked Jimin profusely and insisted that the couch would be more than comfortable. Jimin turned as he made his way sleepily to his bedroom. Namjoon’s head was turned down, looking at the iPad, but his eyes were turned up watching Jimin. Jimin felt his face flood with heat, turned back and closed his bedroom door. When he woke the next morning, the blankets were folded neatly and his iPad was sitting on the coffee table. On top of it was a handwritten note, “Thank you, Jimin. I hope to see you around.”
Jimin picked up the note and turned it over, checking for a phone number or something. It was blank. He sighed, disappointed. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. He scolded himself for even caring. Why should he want a guy’s phone number? I’m not ready to date anyway… he thought. But even as he tried to convince himself that he was content to be alone for the rest of his life, Jimin pictured Namjoon’s dimples and an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach.