Perfect Lie - Yoonmin

1. Black

Music plays through my earphones way too loud, but this work is just too boring to do without the music numbing out every other thought. There are already blisters on my hands that never seem to properly heal, caused by my grip on the wooden mop. Still, I continue wiping the floors of the dance studio.

My eyes drift to the clock at the back of the room: 16:30. I've only been here for thirty minutes but I'm already so done with work. A sight leaves my mouth. 'Urgh.' Luckily no one is in the room. All the dancers from the previous group have already left and are probably now showering in the changing rooms, which is definitely necessary, judging from all the sweat-tracks that they left behind on the floor. 

The mop makes its way across the room, leaving a trace of clean mop-water behind. A burst of sudden laughter is audible, coming from the direction of the showers, followed by as sight coming from me. If only I was a part of that...

The group that was training here before is one of the most inspiring things I've ever witnessed. Only on the view occasions when I came to work early, I have been able to see them practice. Sharp cut moves, followed by flowing contemporary sways through the air like smoke... It's not like I haven't tried to be like them, of course I have. But ever since that declination of the dance school when I was twelve, I haven't dared to audition for anything. Still... I practise almost every day in the hope that someday I'll muster up the courage to indeed go to one of the auditions.

Realizing I was dozing off and have stared at the little specks of dust and rubbish for at least five minutes now, I continue brushing the filth in the dustpan. It's a mindless job, to be honest, cleaning the dance studio, but it'll pay for university.

I'm about to lift myself up from the crouching position I've been in to clean the floor, when I notice something looking like an insect on the floor. Quickly I brush it in the dustpan, realizing that it's a cloth of black hair. None of the dancers have black hair though, and I'm sure I cleaned it last night after the last group had left... Must've been their teacher's then.

The routine of cleaning has been engraved in my mind, and after having done this for a month, you'll get to know the quickest tricks to at least make it look like it has been cleaned, resulting in me being finished way quicker than my schedule says.

Dragging the cleaning cart behind me, I make my way to the canteen. It's not actually a canteen since it's also an independent cafe, but since it's also connected to the studio, everyone calls it the canteen. Sadly enough, this connection makes it also part of my job to clean it, which actually makes sense since the owner of the cafe is also the owner of the dance studio.

It's almost totally abandoned, apart from an elderly couple sitting in a booth in the far back corner, and a barista, who looks like he doesn't have a care in the world listening to music through some earphones with his eyes closed. I can't blame him, the music they're playing here in the canteen is horrible, something you wouldn't expect from a place which is part of a dance studio.

Quickly I wipe the tables and the window frames, leaving me with still an hour of work that I have to fill in. Seeing as I probably should do something, in case my boss walks in and sees me doing nothing, I decide to do the most useless task in my job description: clean the flower pots (Yes it's an actual thing I have to do, don't laugh).

I take a clean cloth from my cart and start cleaning the first vase on the window-sill, one of those huge china-like ones, which you don't dare to break. I'm only quarter of the way across the rim when suddenly black spots seem to paint my vision. Damn.

I had this before and I know what this can lead to. My hand tries to reach the nearest chair to stabilize myself, blindly reaching through the air. Power has, however, left my body, and my fingers only brush the wooden back of the chair, taking it down with me, filling the air with a clattering sound.

My vision is now completely gone and the floor feels not like the hard tiles it's supposed to be, rather a soft mattress, leaving me to sink down to the ground in a crouching position. I try my hardest not to tumble over as well, having my head between my hand, trying to get this nauseous light feeling to pass.

I can still hear everything around me, feel the floor beneath my feet, and that's what I'm trying to focus on. You can't pass out now Jimin, not now in this setting, please don't. Even though I know that telling myself this won't actually help me trying to get back; it's the determination that might make me stand up again.

'Are you okay? Should I get help?'

A tight, low voice suddenly appears next to me. Out of reflex, I lean away, causing me to lose the little balance that was still left in my body, making me spread out over the floor.

'Shit sorry, here, let me help you.'

A strong grip grabs my shoulders, as the person the voice belongs to supports me back on my feet before he makes me sit on a chair. My head still feels like it's a hundred pounds and my vision hasn't returned yet, so I squeeze my eyes together in the hope for it to return. After a minute I can feel a cold cloth in my neck.

'Here, I hope this helps.' His voice is soft and calming. I can hear him take a seat next to me, his hand still holding the cloth in my neck. We sit in silence like this for I don't know how long. Slowly but surely, I can feel the clouds disappear in my brain, and spots of light make its way through the veil in front of my eyes. I still don't dare to lift my head from my hands, afraid that any movement might trigger my conscious to leave me again.

'I got you some water' The boy, whose face I still haven't seen yet, slides a glass on the place of the table in between where my arms hold my head, which is still looking down.

I immediately feel bad for the boy, making him do all these things for me, worrying about me even though he doesn't need to.

'Th..n..s' I try to form words, but my throat doesn't allow it, feeling thick and restrained. Slowly I take one hand away from my forehead and grasp the glass in front of me, gulling down the cool liquid to soothe my throat.

A few sips and some minutes later, I dare to open my eyes and take a look at the person who's been helping me.

'Thank you, you really didn't have to...' I turn my head to my right to meet the stranger's eyes, but as soon as I did that, I regret it. He's much closer than I thought he was, which was actually to expect since he's still holding the cloth. Not only that, he's the barista who had been listening to music. My eyes immediately look down again as I catch my head with my hands again. Underneath the rim of the table, I can just about see the tips of the white dress shirt underneath his black apron.

'That's okay, are you feeling better now? You want some more water? Something to eat?' He sounds very caring, but my instinct takes over and without me actually realizing it, I reply 'No!' a little too loudly. 'No, I'm fine, thanks,' I reply somewhat softer after I regained myself.

'You sure? You've gone totally pale, and honestly you look like shit,' he replies bluntly. A giggle leaves my mouth, not because of the situation, but just because of his words.

'Wow thanks, I appreciate that,' I lift my head again to finally face the barista properly. He looks much better with his eyes open, just beneath the blond hair. His headphones are still dangling from his shirt, pulling down the collar just a bit by the weight of it.

'You should go home, you really can't work like this,' he says as soon as his eyes shift over my face. I immediately feel self-conscious about my appearance again, having him look at me like that, making my hand unconsciously reach toward my face again.

'No, I'm sure I can work!' I just want to get out of this situation as soon as possible and leave this room. To give the words some power, I lift myself from the chair, regretting the decision instantly as my legs give way again.

The boy stands up in a flash to catch my body again, as I can feel his fingers curving around my upper arm to keep me from falling over. I still can't seem to find my balance, and he apparently notices as he pulls me to his chest to support my weight. I feel like one of those dolls, no strength in any of my limbs, only being able to move through the hands of another person. Slowly, he places me back on the chair again. I catch a whiff of cologne, a soft, not too overwhelming smell of orange, reminding me of the breakfast I had.

'Yeah you're not going anywhere,' he softly chuckles, but not in a mean way. It actually leans more to an honest laugh, in an 'I told you so' way.

'Where's your stuff? Then I'll quickly grab yours and my coat and then I'll drive you home,' he says, as if there's no further point of discussion even possible, as he lifts himself from the chair.

'Really, you don't have to do this, I'm fine, I can work.' I lift my head again and now do meet his eyes for more than just one second. I can't have him take me home. My parents would be too worried if they knew I had almost fainted again and would ask too many questions. Besides that, I don't want to burden this boy, who obviously doesn't want to help me. I mean, no one actually wants to help me, ever, right?

My determination to stay seems to throw him off. Doubt paints his face, as he again checks out my state. 'I really can't have you do this to yourself, you are in no state, look, you're even shivering! Wait.' He walks towards the bar and grabs something from underneath the counter. A coat. He drapes it across my shoulders like a blanket, and the smell of orange pierces my nose again. Like a child, I make myself smaller and cuddle up inside it, realizing that I had indeed goosebumps all over my arms.

'What even happened? Are you having a fever or something?''

I hesitate for a minute. Of course, I know what had happened.

'I... I don't know, maybe I just haven't slept enough last night.' I quickly chuckle to laugh off the moment, not wanting any further questions on the matter.

'Okay...?' He knows I'm lying, but he's kind enough to not ask any further questions. I wish I could just stand up and continue working again, but I know my legs won't allow me to stand for too long, if not, at all.

'I'll go home, but I can make it myself, I don't live too far away,' I then state, which seems like the best way to get out of the situation right now. Once again I lift myself from the chair, now more carefully, until I'm at his eye-level again. I smile to show I'm really okay and give my words some power.

The blond-haired boy still looks uncertain, holding my gaze, which I don't look away from. Eventually, he gives up, a sigh leaving his mouth.

'Okay, I'll tell the boss you left because you're not feeling well. But promise me that you send me a text once you get home so I know you haven't driven into some tree or something.'

That seems like a fair deal. I take my phone out of my back pocket and give it to him so he can enter his number. 'Here you go, and don't forget!' He says as he hands me back my phone.

I quickly glance at what he entered. The screen neatly shows what appears to be his phone number, with above it the name 'Suga.'

'I won't, Suga,' I grin as the name leaves my lips. My eyes then catch the name tag on his apron, which says 'Yoongi'.

'Or should I call you Yoongi?'

He follows my gaze bewildered. 'Oh this, urgh,' he rolls his eyes annoyed as he fiddles with his name tag. 'I told them that I want my barista name to be Suga, to fit the coffee theme, but they didn't let me. But I'll make them change the name tag, just you wait!'

The corners of my mouth curl up, he seems like quite a character.

'Now go home, you ghost! And don't forget to get some rest!' I quickly snap out of my stare and make a quick bow as I mutter again my thanks and turn around. The bowing of my head made the floor of rubber again, and I can't help but losing my balance again for a second. A gasp and some quick footsteps come from behind me, but I continue walking like none of that just happened.

As I close the door to the hallway behind me, I'm sure I heard a sight coming from the room I just left.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I quickly unlock my car and fall into the chair. I can't help the tears from wetting the steering wheel, my head resting against the top part. Why can't I just handle this on my own? Why did it need to show?

After a minute or two I grab myself together and take out my phone. My parents were planning to get fried chicken to celebrate my younger brother getting a job at the library.

Mom, I'm going to Taehyung's to work on our essay, I'll be home around 11:00, so I'll eat there, don't stay up for me! - Jimin

I click send and start to make my way to the university library. My head still feels heavy and I can't quite clearly concentrate on the road, but I know the route and it's not busy on the road, so I manage to make it to the parking lot.

'I made it home, thanks again for all your care. Let me repay you some time! Jimin'

Having sent that, I quickly put away my phone, afraid to see what he will reply, and make my way to the library, where I stay to work on the essay by myself for the rest of the night, only accompanied by a cup of black tea.