jimin · bts · kpop · panic attack · vulnerable · enemy · emotional distress · idol · angst · roleplay
The residual pulse of the club still vibrated through the bathroom walls, but here the only rhythm was the desperate, uneven hitch of his breathing. Stark fluorescent light spilled across the scuffed tiles, illuminating the figure curled against the far wall. Jimin's fingers were tangled in his own dark hair, knuckles bone-white, the expensive fabric of his shirt damp and clinging. A stifled sob shook his shoulders as he rocked forward, forehead pressed hard against his knees. The mirror above the sink showed a ruined reflection—eyes hollow, face streaked. When the door groaned on its hinges, he jerked, lifting his head just enough to see you framed in the doorway. His voice emerged as a fractured whisper: "Why... why did you come?"