Dear My Friend

3

When I was a teenager and I decided I wanted to rap, or at least write music. Aside from my parents utter disappointment my only and last childhood friend I had left always was excited to hear new lyrics from me.

"If you keep going like this, you'll be big I'm telling you." They were currently sitting at a make-shift desk in Hanyeol's uncle's garage, which was just a fold out table that held a computer system and monitor along with other recording equipment. 

"Don't bring up my dreams just for them to be crushed, hyung," I scoff shoving Hangyeol playfully, just hard enough for him to purposely make himself fall off stacked crates they were sitting on, "You're dramatic."

"Says the boy that's a hall monitor and won't even let his friend off the hook when he's just trying to skip a class." He looks up from his place on the floor, a smirk on his face.

"That's not dramatic. It's my job." I roll my eyes, kicking my backpack aside as Hangyeol bursts into laughter.

"Your job? How much do you get paid?" 

Such a smartass.

"Shut up, you idiot," I push him away by his  face.

He leans in more, "Really?"

"Why am I friends with you?"

"The question I've asked myself  a million times."

I scoff, "Whatever."

He leans in closer so we're nearly touching noses, "Why are you friends with me?"

"It's a hostage situation," I say simply.

He grabs my face, thumb on one side and his four other fingers on the other side of my cheek. He pulls me gently down onto the floor.

"Do you want me to let you go?" He smiles evilly, waiting.

I roll my eyes, "No."

"That's what I thought," he smiles, lets go of my face and grips the back of my neck with one hand while his other lays on my thigh.

I scoot in closer.

The door that leads into the house flies open and we jump apart.

"Boys will you give me a hand really quick."

I enjoy staying at the dorm over staying at my own apartment. Mostly because I like to know I'm around people who care. I know that's cheesy. Maybe even a little pathetic. But I've never loved people like I love the members. I'll never tell them that, and to be honest I don't think I need to. I think they can tell, they can see that the 6 of them are the most important people in my life. They're over my parents, even slightly above my brother. I know the members care about their parents and siblings over the rest of us, even if it's a tiny step up. It still counts. It's still higher. 

I try not to think about it, because of course each member will put their parents first. Everyone, even if you don't think you do, everyone has a first priority person. For Jimin his dad is a little above his mom. For Hoseok his sister is above his dad but his mom is above all of them. 

And that's fine. Really. I have never been anyone's first priority person. Not even to my parents.

It's even more fine, because I never ponder on it too long.

"Yoongi-yah will you get the rice cooker out?" Seokjin is standing at the counter, vegetables are spread out on the table, knives, cutting board, pots, raw meat. I realize I been staring at the closed cabinets for a long time now.

"Yeah," it takes me a moment to get up, my shoulder aches, my bones feel heavy. I get the rice cooker out and place in on the counter next to the knives. Without a moment's hesitation I pick up one of the chopping knives, small, but sharp.

I could totally kill someone with them. I let it glide across my fingers.

"Yah! Are you trying to cut your fingers off?" Seokjin looks alarmed for a second, taking the knife away from me.

"Maybe I don't want them anymore," I smile, and he just blinks at me, no windshield wiper laugh, just blank stare.

"Go. Shoo. I don't need your help."

I shrug, give a sharp nod and make my way to the next member to bother.

"You know it's kind of funny,"  Hanyeol talks with a cigarette butt hanging from his mouth, legs spread straight out, feet crossed on the wooded coffee table.

"What?" I look at him, observe his smirk face. He takes the cigarette from his mouth, brings the vodka bottle to his lips, "What's funny?"

He points at me with the end of the bottle, "This."

I feel my face scrunch up, looking at him utterly confused. He passes me the cigarette, I breathe in and puff out smoke twice.

"My parents have such low standards for me. So, here I am going above and beyond to prove them- well to prove them right," he chuckles, wide smile on his face like he's so proud, "And your parents expect so much of you that you're reaching further. You know what our parents have in common?"

"What?"

"They both know they made the same mistake. But won't own up to it. Pride talks, even when it's your kids that need you."

I blink slowly, letting the head high take a moment to devour me. I sit in it for a moment. A moment of euphoria.

Then I nod, lean my cheek against my hand flinching a little cause I forgot it was bruised still.

"You know what our parents don't have in common?" I pass him the burnt out cig.

This time he asks, "What?"

"They cherish you, you're their kid. They want to hold onto that, to you as long as possible. My parents can't wait to fucking get rid of me."

We're quiet for a minute, he doesn't say anything, he just nods his head slowly and breathes in deeply. Takes another swig of straight vodka.

"You know," I pick up again, "I always tell myself when I do get out of this, when I finally make my place. When I get further then my parents expect me to. I want to sit here and be confident and say I won't take them back, I won't let them walk back into my life like they made me-"

"Technically they did make you."

"I mean- like they had a place in how far I gotten, if I get far, they'll act like they always believed in me, even though my cheek is proof enough that they don't, that they haven't. I want to sit here and say I won't let them run back to me."

"You mean you run back to them," I don't say anything to that, "I know you will Yoongi. And I don't blame you. Having the support even if it's given in the worst way, it's still support. Just like how money is money."

"In my head, the reality fights with the ideal tirelessly.
My biggest enemy is the anger inside me.
The more dreadful is the battle with the laziness inside me."

-Agust D2- 'Moonlight'