WEIRDO → ymin

SEVENTEEN

JIMIN'S POINT OF VIEW  

jimin didn't move from the safe, comfortable cocoon of his bed for the next 32 hours.  at 7.00 AM on monday morning, he finally woke up, the smell of coffee making his sad, regretful brain turn to mush.  

jimin groaned when he opened his eyes.  the reality of the fact that he was awake hitting him like a brick. he would have preferred to stay asleep, dreaming of a place where yoongi didn't hate him, and namjoon's snores didn't sound through the walls every night.  

jimin's room was doused in bright, midday light.  the tree outside his double story window cast small shadows onto the white bedspread, polaroids and digital prints hanging on his walls, the smiling faces of his friends and family watching his every move.  he had a stack of books beside his bed, which served as a night stand.  on it was a small potted, leafy plant.  his mother said it helped keep bad dreams away.  he was unsure about the sincerity of that statement.  his fairy lights were hanging off another wall, the one where his mirror was propped, his favorite necklaces and hats hanging off the corners of the full length mirror.  

jimin sighed.  he was focusing on everything but the reality that yoongi's window, across from jimin's, had the blinds pulled roughly closed, and had been that way since the day of the argument. 

jimin sighed, again, and pulled his legs out from the duvet he'd been under for more than a whole day.  his legs were cold, the boxers he wore being the only thing on his body.  he made his way to his closet and stared at the organized rainbow of clothes, settling on an over-sized yellow hoodie and faded blue jeans.  he pulled on socks and checkered vans, running a hand through his messy, faded peach hair.  faded peach meant blankness, sadness, numbness.  jimin sighed when he caught sight of it.  

as he made his way to the kitchen, he thought of saturdays antics.  he didn't blame yoongi for exploding.  how often did someone meet a fucking wizard?  even though jimin had proved his sincerity through the finger sparks and his wand, he understood yoongi's confusion.  the poor man had probably only seen wizards in an unrealistic representation of the harry potter world.  

sometimes, jimin wished wizarding was more than what it was.  he could just open doors, turn off lights, call namjoon, close his window, stir a pot.  he'd been practicing since they'd moved there to paint the walls a pale yellow, and all he'd resulted in was a thin crack down the middle of one of them. he wasn't the best wizard, that was for sure.  

but he'd been practicing, because on his seventeenth birthday, if he couldn't cast more than six spells, he'd lose his powers.  that usually wouldn't matter to him, as he didn't like magic much.  but he liked his hair, his sugary smell, his buzzing finger tips.  if he was human, he wouldn't be able to go to wizard youth group with jungkook and taehyung.  he wouldn't be able to see his other wizard friends, dowoon and wonpil.  he wouldn't be able to drink his mother's lavender tea, although he didn't think that would be such a bad thing.  

in conclusion, although jimin was heartbroken over yoongi's reaction, he wasn't embarrassed about who he was.  he was proud of it, and if yoongi didn't like it, jimin would accept that and ignore the way his heart sunk at the mere thought.  

jimin reached his kitchen, small hands burrowed in the front pocket of his hoodie, eyes downcast as he pulled a carton of milk out of the fridge, pouring himself a glass without looking up.  

''damn, the black parade called, they want their emo back,''  jimin whipped around at the voice, his eyes widening and smile showing for the first time in what felt like ages.