Walking into your apartment with a smile plastered on your face, you twisted the doorknob, excitement building up in your body. You haven’t seen Jimin all day because you were busy working your ass off at school. It’s been a rough the past couple weeks with projects, essays, and various tests being thrown at you. Jimin was your stress relief, but sadly, he was busy too.
“Jimin?” you spoke up, eager to see your boyfriend.
A moment of silence fell upon the apartment as you waited for a response.
Maybe he’s not home?
No. That wouldn’t make sense because his shoes are here and so is his car.
So then where was he?
With a frown, you began to walk around the place, checking every room for a sign of Jimin. Turning the corner, you peeked into the master bedroom, your eyes falling on your target. Upon hearing the sound of paper being crumbled up in frustration, you slowly approached Jimin, careful not to upset him even more.
“What’s wrong, babe?” you asked, trying to be as calm as possible.
You knew how Jimin was when he was upset. Even though he would remain silent, his aura was dark and intimidating. At times, he would simply walk out the door without a second thought, only to come home late at night and curl into bed with you. You being a sweet girlfriend, wouldn’t dare question his actions. Despite its occurrence, it still hurt every time it happened. You wanted to be there for him in times of need, but he would just shut you out and keep to himself. Normally, he would bite his tongue and prevent himself from unintentionally hurting you, but at times, it got too hard for him to contain himself.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Jimin, I-” You tried reaching for his hand.
“I said don’t touch me!” he yelled, pushing your hand away, “Are you fucking dumb? What don’t you understand? Do. Not. Fucking. Touch. Me.”
Mouth open agape, tears instantly spilled from your eyes. Each word that came out from his mouth was a stab to your fragile heart. Jimin can be mean at times, but never like this. The most he has done was playfully call you chubby, but he never verbally abused you like this. In fact, he never actually yelled at you no matter how bad you screwed up. Instead, he would be as sweet as possible and correct your mistakes, guiding you through it all.
“I’m sorry.” you whispered, running out of the room before he could see your tears.
Every step you took was excruciatingly painful. The breath hitched in your throat made it nearly impossible to breathe. You stepped out into the street, unsure of where to go. You had left everything at home: keys, jacket, proper clothing. You had no where to go, but anywhere other than here was better. With this in mind, you walked to where you felt the most safe. The park. Jimin had proposed to you as his girlfriend here and since then, it became your favorite place in the entire city. Tears continuously streaming down your cheeks, the gentle, cold wind caused you release a slight yelp as you shivered. You were only dressed in a thin shirt and shorts alongside with a dirty pair of sneakers you’ve been reusing for the past year or so.
Sitting on the swing, you closed your eyes, sighing as you contemplated your relationship with Jimin. Lately, he’s been coming home late and endlessly neglecting you. At this point, you don’t even know if your relationship is stable anymore. You still love him, but does he still love you?
Your deep thoughts were interrupted by a hand grasping your shoulder. Eyes widening, you began trying to break free, but as dumb as you were, you tripped.
“Calm down, calm down! It’s me. Jimin.” he spoke in a soft tone, afraid that he’d scare you off once more.
“Please, just go away.”
“I’m sorry for what I said.” he grabbed your hand, “I swear to God I didn’t mean a single word.”
“You’ve been such an asshole lately, you know that?”
“Whenever I cook for you, you just leave it there to rot. When I try laying with you in bed, you’d get up and sleep on the couch.” you nearly shouted, tears brimming in your eyes, “Do you not love me anymore?”
You choked back a sob as you spoke, unable to think of anything else other than the all the pain that Jimin had caused you. After all you had been through with him, he could have at least told you what was going on with him. Instead, he repetitively hurt you and caused you to jump to absurd conclusions. You were stressed over school as well, but you never snapped at Jimin over it. You would rant to him all the time and it would always help. He was your like your Tylenol, essential to your life. He was vital to you and he knew that. But the way he’s been treating you is unacceptable. Despite being in a relationship, he just pushes you away. Whenever you lean in to give him a kiss or hug, he’d instantly back away and go to some place else. Somewhere he knew you wouldn’t be around.
“Jimin,” you continued, breaking the eerie silence that fell upon once dynamic duo ,”let’s break up.”
The last week you have been what Shawn would say, ’an emotional fucking mess.’
You have not wanted to be touched, your body being sensitive to Shawn’s fingertips, everything about him has just put you off, caused you to want to curl up in the blankets and whimper noiselessly to yourself. There has been nothing he has done this week that has not set you off into an emotional state of abrupt tears or a rage of angry emotions that neither of you knew you were capable of harbouring.
He has taken it half-heartedly, not really taken anything you say to heart, after all, he knows that it is probably just a stressful time for you. You got a new job that has been working you half to death, he announced a new tour and is set to leave in a month, and to top it off, your emotions have caused you to argue him more times this week than in the last six months.
You hear the front door open and close, the sound of plastic bags rustling as you peek over the edge of the couch. You force your exhausted body off the couch, shuffling towards the kitchen where Shawn has just put the Groceries up on the counter top.
He flashes you his typical smile, his hands already digging into the plastic bags full of groceries, “Hey, I just got off the phone with my sister, she wants to spend the night tomorrow.” He announces, earning himself a smile in return.
You absolutely love when his sister spends the night, you get to do all the girly things you usually do on your own, like painting nails, watching chick-flicks, and gossiping about the latest episode of the Netflix series you and Alliyah follow.
“Sounds great, did you get dinner? I am starving.” You question, your own hands beginning to dig into the bags to help him with putting away groceries.
“Uh, you said you weren’t hungry so I assumed that was you telling me not to bother with dinner.” He glances at you with a bit of a grim expression, biting his lip as if he is treading on egg shells.
I finally finished up my Replica Challenge #5 entry for @redhotchilisimblr ‘s replica challenge which totally forgot about finishing until today… WHOOPS haha. The Schmitz have just purchased this house and luckily it has 6 bedrooms, because they just found out there is another bun in the oven! I decided to furnish the master bedroom and the porch is pretty simple with some plants and a great place to have some morning coffee.
Omg can you just imagine h being all drunk and giggly and the missus being sober but then he gets all upset over something and she has to calm him down :((
He starts sobbing hysterically from his position on the bed in the master bedroom, trousers pushed down by his ankles, boots still on his feet, shirt unbuttoned pushed open to allow his chest to be on full show and his boxers hanging low on his hips as he halted his movements in dressing for bed. Crying into his palms, heels digging into his eyes, because he doesn’t want to missus to leave the room because he thinks she won’t come back. And they wouldn’t just be drunken sobs that escape his throat, but, pained cries, as well. Crying out for her as she disappears into the bathroom to get him something cool to make himself less flushed, tears streaming down his face, nose running thickly and a string of saliva rolling down towards the dimple of his chin in rivulets.
Kneeling in front of him, with a wet flannel in her hands to wipe around his face and around his neck, and resting her forearms on his thighs, she brushes her fingers over his fuzz-dusted skin and frowns up towards him, concern lacing her features together as the tears dribble down his cheeks. Shining under the lamp-lit room from the bedside table, where her laptop and an open blog-post was left, “s’the matter, hm? Why are you cryin’?”
“Don’t want yeh t’ leave me,” he’d whimper, hands wrapping around her elbows in a tough hold to keep her close to him, to stop her from leaving him, “promise me, please. Promise me!”
“Peaches, stop this, you silly thing. You’re going to cry yourself sick and I don’t need to be cleaning sick at this time of the night,” she coos softly, hands falling from her arms as she stands up, “come on now. You’re getting upset over the silliest thing, aren’t you now?
“Promise me,” he slurs softly, her hand cupping his chin as she begins to pat the cold flannel over his skin, dabbing around his cheeks and collecting the moisture left behind from his tears, “please?”
“Peaches, we’re pretty much tied to one another now,” she giggles, his eyes widening at her amusement, “we’re engaged, you silly thing. I’m going nowhere.”
“Yeh not promisin’ me!”
“I promise you,” she smiles, pressing her lips to his forehead, “I’m going nowhere, baby. You’ve got me for life or for however long you want me, okay? I love you,” she coos, letting his arms wrap around her middle, pulling her close to him as he buries his face into the t-shirt that bathed and swamped her torso, “come on, my drunk love. Let’s get you undressed and in bed. I think someone just needs a big cuddle tonight.”