Never Mind | #yoonmin

5

SPRING
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It's almost like I hear the birds of an early spring chirp, but there's not one tree in sight where chirpy birds could be found to be chirping. The back entrance from the office building to the parking lot has a view of nothing but parked cars and other office buildings. The cigarette pole is the only reason I find myself here more than I need to, gazing over the mostly white, grey and black cars. Luckily the weather has warmed enough for me to stand here without freezing in my light blue bomber jacket, which I pretty much stole from the wardrobe for Namjoon's album party a while back. I tell myself I'm still just borrowing it, but I doubt I'll ever return it. It looks fucking good on me.

I try to enjoy the last bit of my cigarette and the sunlight by closing my eyes. As I exhale the white smoke, I hear a car door open and my eyes slowly open to see who it is. In the corner of my eye I see a figure stepping out of a car, and another figure walking up to that person. It's a bit far, but I can recognise it's Jimin stepping out of the car. For some reason I never thought about how he gets here, but apparently also by car. His grey car would have matched his silver hair beautifully, but the silver has washed away over time and left him with a cool blonde tone. I don't recognise the other man, I just see his back and he's wearing a cap.

The man with the cap has reached Jimin and they seem to be having a bit of an unpleasant conversation, judging by how Jimin folds his arms and sometimes points at the other while talking. I can't understand the conversation from this far, but when Jimin throws his head back I can hear him grunt loudly. The other man raises his voice and pushes Jimin's shoulder, causing me to feel my legs wanting to speed towards them and give the unknown man a good shove myself.

Jimin now clearly shouts "Just leave me the fuck alone!", which the man seems to understand clearly as well and he angrily stalks away. He walks across the parking lot, and as soon as he turns his head towards me I recognise him. Taemin. What the hell? He quickly pulls his cap down a bit more and starts walking faster. I look back at Jimin and see him getting in his car. I wait for a moment, but the car doesn't start moving. I flick my cigarette in the vague direction of the cigarette pole and finally allow my legs to speed walk towards Jimin's car.

I lean my hand against the car and softly knock on the window with the knuckle of my index finger. The window rolls down and as I lower my head to look inside, I see Jimin with a lifeless expression look back at me.

"You okay?" I ask calmly. He looks at me for a moment with pursed lips.

"Get in." He sighs and turns his gaze forward. I walk around the car, open the door on the passenger's side and suddenly feel how personal this moment is as I sit down and close the door. Am I intruding too much? He probably wouldn't have invited me inside if I was, right? I look at him, trying to read him, but I'm not sure if he's sad, angry or both. Probably both. The sunlight shining in through the window throws a melancholic shadow on his face as he turns his head towards me.

"You smell like cigarettes."

"Oh, sorry, I was just smoking."

"Can I have one?" Jimin holds his little hand out.

"You smoke?"

"I don't usually." The corner of his mouth twitches up for a split second. I grab my pack, open and tap it so a cigarette shoots out just enough so his tiny fingers can grab it easily. He places it between his round lips and looks at me while holding his hand out again. It takes me a couple seconds too long to realise he needs a lighter, of course. I hand it over and watch silently as he lights his cigarette up, places the lighter back in my hand and rolls his window all the way down to blow the smoke out of it. He takes another big drag and then hangs his arm with the cigarette out of the window. All these movements look like muscle memory. Something tells me he hasn't only performed these movements before, but also his emotions seem darkly familiar to him. His usual friendly and polite demeanour are pushed all the way to the back seat so his raw emotions can take center stage, and I'm in the front row seat.