Idk Why I Do This To Myself Lol - Tumblr Posts

fragments | jimin x reader [01]

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synopsis: your heart sank to your stomach as you stepped out of your room, and right there in your kitchen was the last person you ever wanted to see again. he acted as though he still lived there with you, knew each and every corner like the back of his hand and you blinked harshly trying to convince yourself you were dreaming.

impossible. this is impossible.

what was park jimin doing in your apartment, in your own loose bathrobe, pouring you a cup of coffee as he greeted you with that stupid smile on his face, when three years ago, you were certain he was out of your life forever as he left you here on your own and run into the arms of someone else?

this should be a dream, you repeated.

until you figured out it actually wasn't -- because this was that day, the one before you confronted him about his affair.

unfortunately, you were about to relive the same day over and over again, and you had absolutely no idea as to why.

pairing: professor!jimin x author!reader

genre: 70% angst, 20% smut, 10% fluff

warnings: an emotional rollercoaster, INFIDELITY, betrayal, stress, heavy alcohol consumption, anxiety, sleep deprivation, toxic relationships between reader and her family, reader and jimin obviously, jimin is a lying, manipulative, two-faced asshole, self-blaming, gaslighting, angry sex, a very sad and heartbreaking sex.

i think that's it??? let me know if i forgot anything x

status: ONGOING

word count: 5.9k

song recs: milk & honey - billie marten (alt version) | the butterfly effect - before you exit | who - lauv ft. bts

[TEASER] [01] [02] [03] +++

"Honey, you alright?"

Oh damn, you muttered under your breath as you straightened your back. You're never the kind of person to talk to strangers, let alone those who stand by you at the bus stop at such a time.

Deciding to trace the uneven lines on the tiles below your feet, you took in a sharp breath and hoped whoever asked you would simply let it go.

But they didn't. And your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when the said stranger inched closer to you and handed you something.

"Take this, and you're sweating. How about we find you a bottle of water or anything to drink? Hm?"

It was a woman, seemingly in her mid-forties and she was clad in the same generic office uniform as you were, but less elegant, due to the lack of accessories or jewelries attached other than a ring on her finger.

Must be married, you thought, and you watched as she smiled in your way and for a moment, you felt as though the warmth spreading on your face was because her presence reminded you of someone.

She didn't take your silence as anything but a yes to her suggestion, so you found yourself behind her while she dragged you out of the crowded bus stop and towards the nearest convenience store she could see.

By the time you arrived there, the woman guided you to a table outside before she scurried inside to buy some drinks for you, and also for her.

She returned still with the smile she'd been wearing since you first caught a glance of her face and as she sat down across from you, she was already finishing the bottle.

"Monday sucks, yeah? Must be hard even for youngsters like you.."

Taking your time to pop open the bottle, you couldn't help but notice the way the woman was staring you up and down, and you began to feel a bit queasy.

Yet you chose to leave it, and instead focus on the water that flowed right through your throat and the coolness of it made you relax.

She was right, the wicked Mondays sucked, and it had been that way for a while now. Though you should be used to it by now, there were just times when for unexplainable reasons, you couldn't.

“Isn’t it like it for everybody, regardless of age?” you asked her, because you knew that you were never alone to hate on Mondays.

And she paused, shoving the now empty bottle into her bag and sank in her seat, cross-legged. You could tell she was trying to read your mind.

She grinned, meeting your rather flustered face for the lack of willingness to hide the hidden meaning behind your words.

You sat upright, almost ready to defend yourself before running away but the woman nodded, figuring you out and you were stunned as the response fell from her lips.

“A terrible thing happened on a Monday, perhaps, it had something to do with that ring finger of yours? Apologies for being nosy but it’s not every day I get to the bus stop and see someone nearly fainting like you did. And I have a daughter of my own.”

You hated being questioned on the little habits and quirks you had, especially when strangers pointed it out to you as if they knew you personally.

Again, the woman was right -- and you nibbled at your bottom lip, unable to form any reply anymore as you stared blankly ahead.

There was an annoying, ugly permanent mark on your finger, a proof that you were once sentimental to things you were given, or at least to things you knew were yours.

It’s funny how in three years of hiding away that immeasurable pain of a past you had, that woman right there flipped you open and was able to bring it out for the world to see.

And when your vision started to blurry at the tears pooling around your eyes, the woman’s hand rubbed the rough skin atop your own, before she let out a heavy sigh and a remark that you were sure would keep you up at night after work.

“The first step to transform your Mondays is to just practice a new routine as soon as you start your day... Like, instead of running to the bus stop, why not take the train? And make sure you’ve had breakfast before you leave the house, or grab one along the way and spare yourself ten minutes to finish it at work? Anything, really.”

You swallowed, looking down at your hand disappearing from her own large ones.

“My daughter took two years to get over it and when she finally did, she replaced that ring into something she herself picked and then things just shifted. I’m pretty sure you can do it, sweetie. It’s never too late.”

Did she think I was married? I wonder.

“I wasn’t - it’s not because I was married. Actually it’s….” she cut you short and shrugged her shoulders. “Married or not, it still hurts the same, yeah? It doesn’t matter which is the truth because it’s not about the situation but more of the person involved with you.”

“Well,” you bit your inner cheek and pulled back, clenching your fist so as to let her touch linger. You haven’t had any physical contact with anyone for three years.

Three goddamn years and you were nothing but a lonely vessel walking around, just trying to live.

That’s it, a face flashed when the woman smiled again, and you cursed mentally for ever confirming it. It was your mother.

She reminded you of your own mother, whom you hadn’t been in contact with for three years, along with your father and both of their new families.

God, it took this long for you to realize how pathetic you have been.

Gladly, you thanked the woman for the insight, though uninvited - still, it helped you work out your thoughts and somehow, it eased your early Monday morning mood swing.

You parted ways a couple minutes later, telling her you had an urgent meeting in less than an hour which was a lie, and she slipped her business card in your bag when you gave her a hug, which you fished out and kept in your wallet in case you would need it someday.

The office lobby as per usual was swarming with people, employees and guests in three different companies located in several floors in the rest of the tall skyscraper right in the heart of the city.

And you remembered feeling sick and suffocated in the first five minutes you stood waiting for the elevator. Now, you were immune to the overlapping voices and the clamoring ringing over your head.

Tapping your heels on the marbled floor, a deep, husky voice startled you and you whirled around quickly, and you winced as laughter welcomed you.

“Oh please, it’s just me. Good morning, princess.”

“Namjoon, ugh stop calling me that.”

“Oops, sorry but it’s Mr. Kim now that we’re here as professionals…”

You scoffed and Namjoon rolled his eyes, moving closer to your side as he held on to his briefcase. The atmosphere changed a bit once you saw him, a familiar face enough to make you comfortable.

The elevator door dinged and it opened, then the two of you entered in no time as the line behind you went forward.

A momentary silence filled in the small but cramped space and if not for Namjoon’s subtle touch on your skin with his fingers, you could have choked for air.

Smiling more to yourself than to him, you waited until you reached your floor and you walked out fast, turning around to nod at him as his office is another floor away from yours.

You hurried to your desk and the first thing you saw was a basket of pink rose petals and the teasing grin from your coworker.

You honestly didn’t mind that despite your position in the publishing company having a perk to choose a huge personal office on the higher floor, you hated being anywhere near Namjoon at all times so you reckoned it was better to stay within the proximity of your close work peers like Sooyoung.

“He just never gives up, it’s insane,” she shook her head, swiveling in her chair to face you as you sat on your own and inspected yet another gift from a certain someone.

You sighed, bringing the basket to your chest and rested your back against the chair.

“I think I’m starting to like it, though. Baskets of rose petals every Monday from the same person, for three years… Think I might decide to marry him one of these days.”

Your words stung, of course. You felt it even before it came out and Sooyoung gave you a disbelieving look, as though you were foolish to say it.

“Jeez, Y/N, come on. We all know the guy isn’t your type. And three years is a long time to pursue someone like you.”

You frowned, offended at the tone of her voice and at the implication of her words but you just laughed it off, thinking no one would ever understand you other than yourself.

“You’re absolutely right. Anyways, about the survey, who’s doing it?” you switched subjects, and Sooyoung caught on it fast as her face lightened up.

“Hm, Mrs. Choi wanted you to do it but I think Mr. Kim proposed it’s someone else instead? Why do you ask?”

You placed the basket back on the side of your desk before you pressed on your work schedule in your computer, clicking on the week that’s coming.

“I’ll do it, could you email Mr. Kim about it? Tell him I’m volunteering, no need to ask someone. Besides, I know people from that university who can help.”

Sooyoung blinked in confusion, wondering how the hell did you suddenly agree on the survey when it’s not even in your description anymore.

You were supposed to be writing again, and it’s been six months since your last release, though it was a bestselling hit, you were aware of the clause in your informal contract with Namjoon about publishing another book before the attention from your first dies down.

You had to comply with the end of the bargain however, the survey intrigued you more.

No. Honestly, the survey was just an excuse. You wanted to go there, where the survey should be executed at.

Jung University - where someone you very well know worked at.

Someone you haven’t seen in three years, and you had sworn you’d never call again but here you were, ticking the box in your schedule that read as the survey date before Sooyoung could even send that email to your editor, Namjoon.

“Are you kidding me? No, Y/N, you’re not doing the survey..”

Namjoon was frantically skipping over to you as you stomped off to the entrance. You were smirking in victory at ruining his mood and his voice echoed around the empty lobby.

You stopped at the doors, peered over to witness the scowl on his face and you chuckled at how his work facade had long diminished.

“Did Sooyoung even send you an email? I bet she didn’t.”

He groaned, hand pulling at your wrist to completely stop you from leaving.

“No, but she called for christ’s sake. Really, Y/N? You wanted to do it? Or do you just want to get there and see him? Because if it is, then it’s not like you.”

“Wait, what? What isn't like me? To make amends with someone from the past and maybe then I could start moving forward?”

It didn’t make sense. You knew it. You fumbled with your words and thoughts and Namjoon could tell you were making excuses.

Making amends wasn’t you. You hated confrontations, hated facing the truth with your head held up high because what you always were was a coward.

Namjoon knew you like that. He was there to see you crumble when you had to explain a mistake over something at work when you were still a copywriter.

He was there when you avoided talking to higher ups at company dinners and ultimately refusing to befriend coworkers.

Sooyoung and him were the only ones you allowed in your personal life.

Three years ago, your life was everything but who you are now.

You were different in many ways unimaginable. You were strong, head fucking strong to scream at the world, yell out your frustrations and your fears.

You were open to sharing what made you uneasy and distant, what you thought was wrong about anything and you were living a life without a script to memorize or a routine to follow.

You were spontaneous, at least that was what he used to call you when people asked him about you.

But was that really who you were?

Because after that you found yourself back to how you were prior to meeting him. When you were a lifeless little girl with parents who hated each other to death and a house without knives or scissors or anything sharp as your grandfather thought better.

Three years after Park Jimin was out of your life, you were returning to your old self, that spiteful, young menace who wanted nothing out of her own bubble.

The one you hated the most next to your parents and their marriage that broke you apart.

And meeting that old woman that morning woke you into a reality where you could no longer hold everything in. You had to let it spill and fall through the cracks of your being.

You wanted to spring free from your dull, clouded mind with regrets and what-ifs because it wasn’t just Mondays that sucked for you.

Everything fucking sucked and you desperately wished one thing wouldn’t feel as such.

If seeing him again means you will find the right track you lost then, and maybe that’s better than living a life like that unfinished manuscript of yours months before you met him.

“You don’t need that, listen - Jimin is far beyond what you can reach now. He’s not even my friend anymore, but you are, Y/N. And I want you to get over that prick and I’ve been saying this for three years, goddamn it. I told you to move out of that apartment and help me find you someplace else, and Sooyoung clearly said you can come to her too. Doing the survey wouldn’t give you what you want. It isn’t the way…”

You pursed your lips, eyes darting from one to another and you felt dizzy as your chest tightened. It’s like you couldn’t breathe.

The tears that were left that morning made its way back around and Namjoon heaved, pulling you in for an embrace as he couldn’t see you wither away again.

You stayed like that for God knew how long until the lights from the lobby turned off, and you were met with darkness. Namjoon rubbed your back as your silent sobs vibrated against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say at that point. And you meant it well. The last thing you ever wanted was to keep worrying him after everything you put him through.

He nodded and smiled though you couldn’t see it, watching his own reflection from the glass doors waiting for you to walk in and out of the office.

Namjoon regretfully recounted the day you called him to meet so you could tell him about what happened. After all, Jimin was his friend before he was yours.

They stood for years, tracing back in college where they shared rooms until they graduated and though they took different career paths, they remained friends, and even more so when Namjoon let him meet his junior trainee and his so-called secretary back then, you.

He was the reason you knew Jimin. Through him, you met the man whom you spent the best days of your life with, the most beautiful years you’ve ever lived.

You were grateful for Kim Namjoon, though you felt it was you who was indebted and not him because he lost his good friend too.

And you blame yourself for that.

And for your own connection with Park Jimin that dwindled along with the time you were supposed to live in without the memories of your scarred and strained relationship with your family which you ran away from.

“Come on, let me drive you home. Think about the survey tomorrow, okay? If you want to, I can be your company. I just don’t want to send you on your own.”

You sniffled, stepping back to look at him dead serious in the eyes and it turned into crescents as he smiled softly down at you, arms still wrapped around your own.

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Namjoon, I really mean it.”

He nodded, hand lifting up to ruffle your hair, “I know, I know…”

You tossed and turned in bed, the yellow lighting in your room didn’t change the heaviness you continued to feel as soon as Namjoon dropped you off your apartment.

You told him not to worry, faked a perfect smile to lessen his stress over you and when you were sure it worked, you waved him goodbye and let yourself succumb into your own again, as always.

Your apartment had stopped feeling like home three years ago, though it’s fairly clean as all you did on weekends was either clean or watch movies all day long in your room.

Nothing was left from the person who lived there other than the sound of his voice and his scent that seemed to have stayed with you, and you tend to force yourself to listen to music with your earpods to keep it out and spray on different brands across the house to cover the scent itself.

It’s stupid to think something like that could stay for three years but hell, they did. And you wanted to cry each time you encountered them.

The bed you once shared was the one thing that’s changed because there came a time when you thought to get rid of it so you won’t remember the nights you were tangled up in sheets with him.

Those nights that lasted quite like a lifetime, as if they were endless, and in the next morning you were sure to wake up still in his loving arms.

You didn’t take pleasure remembering happy memories with him, as it only brought tears just as much as it did when you tried recalling the sad ones.

So, you got up and switched on the lights fully, ridding yourself of the covers and walked out to grab a can of beer from your fridge.

Your phone dinged on the counter as you downed the drink straight, and you peeked at it before shoving the beer into the trash can.

[Sooyoung]: namjoon asked me to check on you

[Sooyoung]: still up?

[Sooyoung]: btw, the university replied back, saying they’re looking forward to meeting you, that is if you still would like to push through with the survey task

[Sooyoung]: i think you should, Y/N - park wouldn’t even be there that week anyway.

[You]: Why not?

[Sooyoung]: wow is that a least bit of your concern right now? well, he’s got an urgent business to do, whatever that is..

You sighed, disappointed in your features as you laid your back against the counter. Oh God, you really wanted to see him.

Shaking your head abruptly, you stood straight and inhaled a breath, holding it for a second and exhaled then clutched your chest for good measure.

You can’t be thinking about him right now when you’ve just burdened Namjoon yet again that night. You had to get your shit together.

If he’s not there it should be fine, right? That’s not going to help you anyway if you were to see him while you had work to finish.

Walking back to your room and to bed, you had one goal in mind, thanks to that beer you could think better than you did the rest of the day.

I gotta take the fucking train tomorrow and buy myself something to rid this mark on my finger, you mumbled to yourself as you crawled underneath the sheets.

And you’ve felt a little light-headed, slowly clearing off of whatever filled your mind.

You woke up slightly disheveled yet calm, no, you felt so much better than yesterday. Seven hours of sleep was foreign to you and you giggled to yourself as you basked in the sunlight through the blinds of your window.

There was warmth and coziness in that particular morning, and your immediate thought was to brew yourself a cup of coffee which you hadn’t done in a while.

Tuesdays used to feel crazy good, when Jimin was around. It was the day when he’s not in classrooms scooped up with students.

Either he’s at the house in his office which was now the empty, cold, dusty spare room you dared not to go in for fear of ghosts, whoever they might be, or at a random coffee shop nearby grading papers or writing lessons as he waited for you to get off work and he’d pick you up.

After that, you’d have dinner outside at some restaurant and talk about work and weather, laugh at the misfortunes of other people, whom you now know to be your own self.

Your misfortunes were the ones you and Jimin used to make fun of and you wanted to throw up in your bathroom as you got ready for the day.

How ironic.

Nevertheless, Tuesdays could also be good for you, you know it is good now that your phone kept buzzing from your nightstand and you knew it was Namjoon just flooding you with nonsense.

Or Sooyoung and her recent work gossip.

You sighed in relief, heart fluttering as the water trickled down your skin in the shower, causing you to shut your eyes in the feeling.

Once finished, you put on another basic work uniform and you failed to notice another pair next to it on the ottoman, spreaded out and ironed nicely.

You also failed to notice all the other stuff placed around the room as you made your way out to make yourself coffee.

You were like floating when you strode into the hallway leading to the kitchen, but the sound of your coffee machine whirring caught your undivided attention.

Stopping on your tracks, your eyebrows furrowed, and you couldn’t make out the faint, muffled humming of someone not too far from you.

Someone’s here? You wondered, but you remembered you changed the locks and only one person had access to the pin code, Namjoon.

Should it be him?

You scratched the back of your neck as you hesitated to check if it was him. An intruder or a stalker wasn’t anywhere near your conscious mind as of that moment, so you decided to make a run back to your room to instead check your phone.

As soon as you leaned over to pick it, your foot hit something next to the bed, and your eyes gawked at a left Chelsea boot lying on the carpet.

What? You only wore boots when it’s the fall or winter, and leather? You weren’t a fan of it much either. Your head spun at your name being called outside to the voice you easily can recognize anywhere you go.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you gripped on your phone, refusing to turn around to the door slightly opened.

You thought it was a dream, one of those haunting dreams you very so often encountered when you tried to sleep for more than five hours, or when your body cooperated with you and let you doze off for longer than usual.

But your phone dinged again, and you looked at it with trembling hands, your knees buckling and your head feeling like a ton of bricks were being stacked upon it.

[Namjoon]: Y/N, tell Jimin to forget about date night just for today. I have to borrow you for my mock presentation at six. Sorry for the late notice.

[Namjoon]: also could you please ask him NICELY to respond when i text him? Remind him we made a pact not to fall in love with the same person so there’s no way i’ll steal you away from him when i ask his permission to let you help me with work BECAUSE YOU’RE MY SECRETARY AND MY FRIEND AS WELL.

Fuck. What the actual fuck. You were certain this must be another dream, now you’re not sure because your body reacted faster than your brain did and you found yourself running out towards the kitchen.

The coffee machine had stopped whirring, and the sound you heard was more than enough to make you stop dead in your tracks but with your heart constricting in your chest.

You swallowed a lump rising from your throat as your stomach twisted, causing you to clutch on it as if shielding yourself for another attack, that is, if there’s actually something punching you in the gut.

“What is going on,” was all you could mutter, staring at the person you thought you wanted to see again, but his presence less than a feet away made you want to shrink.

Park Jimin - in his glory, working his way around the kitchen you owned, the place you found yourself in whenever the horrors of the apartment came creeping in.

He was humming to a song unfamiliar to you, dancing and swaying as he prepared breakfast not just for him as he often did but for you as well.

You knew it because he was taking your mug from the cupboard, turning to you to grin and his eyes lit up meeting your quivering ones.

You didn’t stop the tears willing its way back to your eyes and down your cheeks as it began to dawn on you that he was there.

It was him and not some fragment of your memory you longed to forget.

Not a figment of your imagination but his actual self pouring you your morning coffee with a permanent grin on his glorious face.

He was shining - glowing like an angel paying you a visit, the one your mother would call your guardian angel keeping you safe.

It’s outright ridiculous how the night before, you swore you didn’t need to see him again and right then and there you were yearning to touch him.

And the fact that he was wearing your favorite grey bathrobe, loose and worn out which you had kept hidden away in the deepest of your wardrobe as it smelled like him;

It awakened and stirred something inside of you that you definitely locked within.

He placed the mug on the table, on the coaster as you saw the plates on top of the other coasters which you used to scold him about.

Jimin was a different man at home. On the surface, he was calculative, reserved and a bit cold but when he’s with you, he’s messy and all over the place.

The little things like using coasters and the actual teaspoons for coffee, or cleaning up the counter before he started arranging the utensils and plates for the meal;

He was not the best person to trust with it.

Yet the way he was gazing up at you to hear a praise, a compliment from you over his hard work interrupted your raging thoughts.

“Hey, love. Good morning!”

Shit shit shit. You panicked on the inside, hearing his voice laced with sweetness like honey and a hint of sultriness in it was the last straw.

You were about to lose your mind and it hasn’t even been ten minutes of seeing him.

“Oh, are you okay? Don’t like pancakes? I thought we agreed--”

You cut him, “That Tuesdays are for blueberry pancakes and two shots of espresso..” and his lips curved up in a smile you considered way prettier than his usual grin.

It was the smile he gave you on the first night you met, and you have had it imprinted in your mind since. You loved it so much.

“Yes, but if you don’t feel like eating them today I can just wrap them up, Mr. Ahn likes it. I think we could give them to him instead.”

Mr. Ahn, your lovely neighbor who used to spend his mornings walking up and down the fire exit stairs as his daily exercise. Jimin was fond of the old man, a widower without any children and had been living out of his wife’s will who was an accountant for many years.

He had cats and Jimin loved playing with them every morning after his jog, and whenever he came home he’d bring them treats.

You remembered when you told him to adopt a cat despite your allergy but then he confessed he himself had an allergy too.

It was then you realized there were still a lot of things about Jimin which he never told you about - at least not yet, but then he was already gone before you could even ask him more of those.

That’s it. He’s gone. He’s not in your life anymore.

You froze, your own words pulling you back from your reverie. Jimin wasn’t yours anymore.

But why was he there?

What was he doing there as though he never even left?

“What are you doing here?” you’ve had enough of this. Sure, it was one hell of a dream, but you had nothing to do, you had to wake up soon.

“Love,” he whispered, and your blood began to boil at the term he used. Love? This asshole--

“Stop,” you said, walking over to him to steal the spatula from his hand. “You can’t be here.. Just - go, please.”

“Excuse me?” brow raised, he stiffened at the tone of your voice and the feeling when your skin met his. It was cold.

When you took a careful step backwards, he frowned, narrowing his eyes and shooting daggers into your soul and it was that moment when you were sure it was the Jimin you had last known.

Cold, so cold, unnerving, harsh, strict - not the sweet, romantic guy you spent the last two years with before everything crumbled.

That Jimin was someone who resembled your father - the same man you despised more than you did with your mother.

His next words didn’t come as a surprise to you though, leaning forward on the counter to tilt his head as if mocking you.

Licking his lips, Jimin scoffed, eating you out with his changing demeanor as he composed himself to appear unfazed by your rejection.

“You want me to leave? Really, Y/N? Don’t tell me you’re being like this because of the fucking pancakes. Are you? I am trying to make it work.. As I’m sure as hell you are not interested in doing it anyway.”

“Whoa, wait. What? You’re trying to do what? Make it work? Make what work? What do we even have that needs some fixing? Clearly, I have nothing to think of because it’s you who’s fooling around to need it.”

Your entire body’s shivering at your own retort, eyes hooded in fury as Jimin remained still, unaffected by you or the fact that he’s facing the person he ever so willingly left to rot in her own misery three years ago.

However, his action spoke louder than words could ever be, and it was the sign you needed to figure out what was happening and why the hell was he there.

Running a hand through his hair, he paced around the kitchen, fists clenched and you were beginning to find the whole thing oddly familiar.

It was as if the situation had happened before, like a deja vu. You blinked over and over watching him move as he sunk within himself.

And then there’s his phone blaring in the deafening silence, making your heart jump.

He stopped, head lifting to glance at the device sitting on the fruit bowl with nothing but apples that he loved, before he turned to you.

You didn’t know why, but his face that was void of any warmth and familiarity to you suddenly felt terrifying.

It seemed like he was more of a stranger than someone once dear to your heart.

And the faster he rushed to pick up his phone, the quicker you almost fell to your knees when you finally recognized what was unfolding before your eyes.

Holding onto the table behind you for support, you heard the voice from the call in his phone. The same voice that rang in your ear for months since you first heard it.

“Min Yoojin,” you said in barely above a whisper as you stumbled back, gasping for air as you choked out the tears bubbling in the pit of your throat.

Jimin had the phone in his ear, and his body spun to face you, the expression which was rough on him softening at the sight of you on the brink of falling apart.

It was that day, you said wholeheartedly. That day when you were about to tell him you knew everything between him and Yoojin.

His first love, who reappeared in his life, in your lives when she started working at the university as Jimin, who’s been a professor there even before you two met.

Namjoon used to tell you that back in their college years, Jimin was everything to Yoojin, and so she was.

Their relationship was one would call a fairytale romance, as Yoojin came from a family of businessmen and academicians, professors, educators who had been around for decades, eventually building schools and colleges and succeeding.

The influence they had in the industry was known and thanked for by the government, as they helped strengthen the education sector in the rest of the country.

And as for Jimin, he was from a rather humble family of the same profession who looked up to the Mins a lot as his parents’ inspiration.

He was bound to be with her, having met her in one of his classes, Jimin knew Yoojin will always be a part of him. They were meant for greater heights.

And you? Where were you when they found the chance to rekindle the flame, the connection that was long buried when Jimin made you a promise he would stay with you no matter what it takes.

He always said you were the smartest woman he’d ever met, the brightest, and your words captured his heart as soon as you let him skim into your manuscript when you met.

But you didn’t realize that the word smart differed from intelligent, because Namjoon then told you Jimin fell in love with her because she was intelligent.

Despite them being synonymous to each other, you knew the meaning was different for Jimin. You were smart, but you can never be as intelligent as Yoojin.

And that tripled the pain when you saw tears in his eyes as he looked at you, almost apologetic though it was clear he didn’t regret doing it.

After all, she’s all he ever wanted. Even though she left him broken in fragments and you came to put the pieces together years later.

You knew then that it was that day you were about to confront him, to hear his explanation if there’s any.

And much to your dismay, it wasn’t a dream - it was a reality you’re yet to relive for how many times your fate would want you to.

You were about to witness your own self, three years ago - and you were there to lose him all over again.