Date: October 15th
Time: 6:00pm
Location: Work
Mood: Surprised Pikachu
<><><>

Jimin was showing up in all areas of her life.

Home.

...Work.

"Y/n, this is your new coworker, Jimin." The always too-enthusiastic boss introduced her to her very persistent stalker, not noticing her look of alarm.

Jimin was now her coworker? She had been drawn to this job because the store was so small, it'd left the impression that more than one worker at a time would be unnecessary.

Her boss, a thirty something energetic woman that never stopped talking was still going on, unaware of her pain. "It's not very safe for a young girl like you to work alone till late so this will be better. He's here mainly for stocking the shelves and making sure everything in the back stays sorted. And guess what! Jimin-ie is my cousin—well, his mom was my cousin so I think that makes him my first cousin once removed? I don't know, but if he does anything stupid let me know."

Her cousin. Now she knew there was no way the older woman was ever going to fire him. There was no way around it. She was going to have to look for a new job. Though her gaze hadn't wandered in his direction she could feel his eyes on her already. What was his deal?

"And Jimin-" her boss stopped mid rambling to grab onto his shirt collar. "She's really shy so don't bother her too much. Quit staring; you're making her uncomfortable!"

Now she felt guilty for having thoughts of leaving. Her heart felt comforted in the fact that the older woman was at least somewhat aware of her situation, and she felt a rush of affection towards her.

Except that now she spotted her husband and with a happy squeal ran outside, ditching her with the weird-ass tiny man and Y/n sort of hated her.

Alone with him now, she panicked and rushed to stand behind the counter, as if that small barrier would do anything to protect her.

To her surprise, he disappeared in the back, supposedly to get to work. Some of the tension in her chest eased off. As long as he was out of sight, maybe she could handle this. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly to ease the tightness in her chest. After a quick glance around the store and then through the window to make sure there were no approaching costumers, she pulled out her phone and inserted her earbuds into her ears.

"-eight inch ooh that's good pipe, bad bitch Imma ride the dick all night.-"

"-we shoot .223s we'll take your life-"

"-made a brick through a brick I ain't whip up shit this is pure cocaine-"

"-slip into your pants Imma make it quick-"

Appearing from the back, Jimin's head cocked to the side as he gave her a funny look. Almost like he could hear the music playing, but that couldn't have been possible since it was down low.

Unfortunately the sight of the ear buds did not deter him in the least. Instead, he pulled a giant, stuffed puppy in a yellow jumpsuit seemingly out of nowhere and plopped it onto the counter in front of her. She stared at the dog, vaguely recognizing that this character's name was Chimmy. But why was Chimmy here?

"It's for you." Jimin answered her thoughts as if he could hear them. "When you get scared, hug him." he says seriously. "It will help. And-" he pulled out a journal from a shopping bag. "My hyung said writing in one helps him when he feels stressed or tired so I thought it might make a nice gift..."

He trailed off as he examined her reaction. Her eyes trailed over the leather-bound book on the counter, his words turning over in her head. Why would he care if she was stressed or tired? Because from her point of view, he was the one causing her stress as of late. And why wasn't he uninterested by now? She'd never actually had to work to get someone to stop paying attention to her. They had all gotten the message fairly quick, which further cemented the idea in her mind that Jimin had to be stalker. None of this was normal.

"Also, you're a girl, so I thought..." lastly he pulled out a single, thornless red rose, setting it diagonally across the journal between them.

Love at first sight. The meaning behind a red rose without thorns. Did he know it?

She knew it.

And what he couldn't have known, was that she hated flowers.

One reason being that they were grown, then cut in their prime, set into a bouquet and sold off, dead but pretty, so people didn't really care. They don't care that they were dead, and killed just to make someone happy. Maybe the thought was dumb. She was aware of the fact that she was too soft hearted for her own good. But it made her sad to think that this was their purpose in life, and that it was only fulfilled in death.

The other reason was that her dad—the absentee one—loved flowers. He loved the look and the smell, loved to grow them. He was a florist and took pride in his job. He forever had that sweet stench of flowers on his person, oftentimes could be smelled before he was seen. In all of her early childhood memories she could remember there always being a batch of fresh flowers in a vase, in multiple vases, all over the house wherever he could fit them. On tables, by the door, in the window sills.

Everyday after work he would bring four scarlet zinnias, one for his wife, one for his son, and two for his daughter. Specifically scarlet zinnias, as he would explain, because they represented lasting love and affection.

What a joke.

The memory now was coated in darkness, the words felt bitter, effectively making the rejection and abandonment cut deeper.

She hated it.

She hated flowers.

She hated him.

That man who dared to give himself the title of father and then toss his family away like yesterday's trash. She loathed him. Blamed him. Cursed his name and memory.

...and unfairly, still loved him. Still yearned for him. Still waited for him.

Never would she admit that somewhere deep inside there remained a spark of hope. Hope that one day he would call her, or send a letter, an email, find her on social media, maybe even come to look for her.

It was a futile wish. She was far from stupid. He wasn't going to come back, and if he did want to reach out to either of his children he would have done so by now. But a girl could dream even when reality had burned the truth in long ago.

She was worthless. She was unlovable. She didn't matter.

Now the hateful sight of this red rose, free of any blemish and thorn burned into her retinas, reminding her all over again that every insecurity and self deprecating thought she possessed was all true.

"Are...are you okay?" Jimin asked. Why was he asking like he cared? No one cared.

Although she tried to hold them back, a few tears slipped through anyway. It only served to make her feel worse about herself. What kind of person sees flowers and cries? Angrily, she wiped them away and pulled the earbuds out.

"This bothers me." she stated, voice firm and unwavering for once, an accusing finger pointed at the rose as she recalled Namjoon's advice.

"If you tell him it bothers you, then he'll stop."

She shouldn't have to rely on Seo-Joon or Hyuna (someone she barely knew) to get her out of a situation. At nineteen-years-old she should at least be able to stick up for herself....Even if the thought of confrontation absolutely terrified her.

With his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, Jimin's gaze went from the flower, to her and back again. She forced herself to ignore the heat in her face and met his look head on. Today was the day she would get rid of her stalker. The same flower that made her feel crushed also filled her with a strange sense of boldness that she wasn't accustomed to at all.

"This bothers you?"

At her confirming nod, his eyes narrowed and shifted into an intensity that rivaled that of yesterday's. One look at that spider had made him turn into another person and here he was again, staring a hole into the pretty, red rose that insulted her.

Nervousness trickled into her veins as she grew uneasy. The tiny man had been scary enough facing down her worst fear, but how would it be when she was the recipient of that rage? Finally the words that she'd been struggling to admit had come out, but would they end up getting her killed instead?

Somehow the idea of Jimin enacting physical harm on her person felt...off. Some nonsensical little voice in her head insisted that it would never happen, but she fought against the idea. Common sense said she didn't know him well enough to accurately make that judgment, while that senseless thought refused to budge.

Jimin's face was hard as stone but his eyes were on fire, filled with malice and disgust. Without looking her way, he grabbed the rose in a crushing grip. The snapping sound of the stem reached her ears, soon followed by an odd request.

"Give me a lighter." When she drew a blank on why he would need a lighter and didn't reply, he pressed on. "My cousin smokes. There should be a lighter under the counter."

Sure enough, when she leaned back to look, there was a shiny, silver zippo right next next to an open pack of cigars. The light from the afternoon sunset streaking in through the windows bounced off the metallic surface of the lighter and that's when it hit her.

THIS WAS IT! This was how she was going to die! Jimin had already proven that he had some sort of rage problem and she'd witnessed first hand the violence inflicted on that poor, innocent spider.

Now that she admitted that his actions bothered her, obviously he was going to...what? Burn her to death with a small lighter? Or maybe beat her to death with that rose. Annoyingly, she ventured, that would be how she died.

While lost in own world of panic, she had failed to noticed the tiny man had come around the corner and swiped the lighter out from it's hiding place. After stuffing it into his pocket he snatched hold of her hand and tugged, leading them through the store into the back room.

Aside from the fact that she was now being abducted and probably about to be murdered, the only thing she was able to focus on was his hand holding hers.

Y/n wasn't a romantic. She didn't read stuff like shoujo manga, or busy herself things like Romeo and Juliet, and couldn't understand why everyone wanted to listen to songs crying over a break up or finding their first love. In actuality, she didn't believe in romantic love. That kind of love is nothing but a cocktail of pheromones, oxytocin, dopamine and that was something that she believed in firmly.

So why?

Why was holding this guy's hand like an electric shock, shooting through her arm to the rest of her body, where little bubbles of pleasure inflated and settled into every nook and cranny? Why did she felt safe and secure? Why did she feel joy, and calm, and like she'd just solved a jigsaw puzzle? Had she lost her mind? Had he drugged her food when she wasn't looking?

Why didn't she want to let go?

She wanted him to hold on and pull her closer, wrap her safe in his arms and hold tight until she got her fill. The thought stunned her.

Describing it as a crush didn't seem accurate. At all. Never once did she look at Jimin in that type of way. There had been others before. There had been the best of them all—Jackson. Jackson was sweet and kind and paid her a little attention, just enough that she wasn't overwhelmed, but enough to make her happy for days. But never had she ever wanted to hug him, or even hold his hand. He was nice to look at, and he made her feel special, in his own way.

Did she like Jimin?

No. Not at all. He was a stalker, sort of creepy, didn't understand personal space and seemed to have anger problems. And on top of it all, his actions and words seemed to point to the idea that he didn't perceive any of it as being problematic.

This was what frustrated her the most. Not two seconds ago she was terrified and sure he was going to kill her, and now she felt like pulling her hair out at the perplexing rush of emotions.

The back door opened into the alleyway behind the building. Cold air bit harshly into their faces but Jimin didn't appear to be bothered in the least. Once the door swung shut behind them he dropped the rose and her hand simultaneously.

It confused her to no end on why she wanted to grab hold of him once again. To fight off the urge, she crossed her arms and watched as he dropped to one knee, the lighter now in hand.

Without a word he set flame to the flower on the ground, his eyes wild and a maniacal cackle escaping his mouth. She could have sworn she heard him muttering "die mother fucker." Under his breath multiple times.

The flames ate the flower quicker than expected. They swallowed it up like it was starving and the both of them were preoccupied with the sight.

The picture of it burning on the ground pushed every other emotion, confusing or not, to the back of her mind, and a brand new one settled over her as she watched the progress from unblemished to a blackened, charred mess. A hint of satisfaction, some sadness, but mostly the rush of victory, as if this could be counted as one.

But wasn't it? Her dad chose flowers over his family, over her. Because while he had no problem abandoning them, there was no way he would ever leave his precious career to start anew.

It wasn't the flower's fault, just like it wasn't the spider's fault, but this...made her happy. It'd been so long since she was truly happy that the emotion was foreign to her in some ways.

Yet there was no other word to describe it. The burning flower, though he might not know what deep meaning flowers symbolized to her and how much seeing them hurt, Jimin had made her happy and protected, like he was sticking up for her and kicking all those bad memories in the teeth. All of these feelings remained confusing and maybe a bit overwhelming, but she couldn't deny that in the end this resulted in a positive mood.

For the first time ever, she reached out for him. One finger poked his shoulder in a bid for attention and he turned his head to meet her gaze. At first his face was passive but when their eyes met it softened and he sent her a smile that had her face flushing.

With a push of courage, she spoke two words that held more meaning behind them than he could ever know.

"Thank you."

<><><>
If you've ever been abandoned, you ARE valuable, you ARE lovable, you do MATTER. The only person's worth that determined, was the person that left you. Fuck them, love yourself 💜

Song list by order:
Saweetie-My Type
Trippie Redd-Death
Lil Baby-Pure Cocaine
Flowsik and Jessi-Wet

—
Edited 7/2/22