Novocaine || (M)

novocaine || (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

Going home was hard – painful even. But falling back in love with Jimin, the boy you left behind? Downright gut-wretching.

pairing: punk!jimin x reader

word count: 9.3k

genre: 1990s au, exes au, angst, eventual smut

warnings: 90s slang, VOMIT MENTION (nothing graphic), alcohol, oc has dead parents :c, mention of a house fire

A/N: YEAH BOI ITS ANOTHER SERIES!!! thank you to @ezralia-writes @gukyi @wwilloww for letting me use their likeness!

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PART ONE

“Hello?”

Your cautious knock against the open front door rang out through the old victorian era home.

Your grandmother had always left her front door cracked open for as long as you could remember – you’d imagine to some that might have been strange, but in a town as small as yours, that was just the way it went. Neighbors knew each other intimately, their parents and their parents’ parents having grown up together for as long as memory could stretch back.

From peaking inside, you could tell not much had changed about your grandmother’s home from when you left town. The same green floral wallpaper was stretching across the living room that you had grown up with. You remembered how you used to run down the halls playing pretend, the walls serving as a forest of green and white columns serving as trees for every one of your adventures.

How far you dreamed of traveling even at a young age, wanting more than your small town could offer.

“Come in, darling! I’ll be out in a moment,” You heard the familiar voice call out from somewhere in the kitchen, an ache in your chest echoing.

Clutching at the strap over your shoulder, you reentered your childhood home for the first time in years, holding your breath as if a sudden exhale would send it crumbling down on top of you.

“How can I help–”

You watched as your grandmother made her way into the living room, her friendly smile dropping the moment she laid eyes on you. For a moment, no one said a word, the two family members standing across from each other silently, neither wanting to be the first to speak.

It was you, ultimately, who broke the silence.

“I’m sorry.” You began, eyes welling as they mirrored your grandmother’s.

“How could you?” She breathed, disbelief dripping off of every word.

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