My fights with Luna never last long. They don't have to. I break and let her win, or walk away when I don't want to say something I'd regret later. The one yesterday wasn't even that much about the whole 'not being in each other's business' thing. I didn't really care she watched or listened. I'd take any snarky remark, too.
I didn't snap because I was mad at her. It was more like an unpleasant realization sinking in, when she called Moon and Wine – a song I wrote having no one but her in mind – 'crap'. Only my lyrics notebooks know how many songs I put down on paper are sneakily written about her. Bring Me Down. Mindless. Dead To You. Love Doesn't Count. Charcoal. And a hundred more. It's just that she never heard most of them, or never made any comments about them.
I'd rather the reaction be more positive when it comes to those songs.
The tension was nearly painful when we first met this morning, when I came to the practice room, but it slowly dissolved. Almost like it wasn't a big deal. I act like it wasn't, because I can't possibly tell anyone in this room that when I write about lying under the moonlight and never wanting to go home, because nothing feels better than this, I write about her.
I ignore the stupid tug in my chest whenever I get to look at her. She's wearing black leather skirt and a white crop top, with boots that make her at least three inches taller, and when she crosses her legs on the couch as she reads through her lyrics again and again, I can't quite focus on anything that isn't her legs.
She's got... nice fucking legs, okay? And I've had enough years to think about running my hands along them without an actual opportunity to do this, with only a chance to learn how to control myself.
I curse when I mess up the chords again. Not only because I was daydreaming about Luna, but also the sequence in the bridge of Basement Hike is fucking me up. "Wait a second," I say, when Jimin and Namjoon stop.
"Maybe we should work on this," Namjoon says. "There might be a better sound if this one is too difficult."
"It changes too fast," I say, swinging the guitar to the side as I crouch and scribble on the sheet.
"Let's take a break, huh?" Jimin says. "My throat's killing me."
"From singing or something else?" I tease.
I'm still pretending I don't know he's hooking up with our rival, and Jimin still pretends he thinks I'm clueless. It's not like I have that kind of power in myself to stop him. Jimin's always been... fierce, in his own adorable way. It's like a fairy getting pissed at you. Harmless, but you let him have things his way.
If Yoongi was his hook-up of choice, I would beg him not to do it. But since it's Taehyung, I don't mind. Taehyung, despite being on board with the rivalry because the rest is, is quite harmless, I think. I never had much against him. I think of four things when I think of him – potato chips, lollipops, drums and sarcasm.
"From singing, you dick," Jimin says, sitting on the ground in front of me.
"That's how you call blowjobs nowadays?"
"Can you- ugh!"
I cackle, as he hides his face behind his palms. "I'm not saying anything."
"We've got ten minutes left," Namjoon says. "Let's work on this now and we will play later."
I agree, though we still stay on the raised platform. Jimin turns the volume and gain on the amp down, and we're trying out different sequences. One of them reminds me of a song, and that gives me an idea. A great idea. Oh my God.
For my plan to show Luna what kind of person Min Yoongi is, I just need the right moment and a good idea, and I have both of those now.
There's one song Yoongi wrote back when we were a band, one I remember how to play.
"What if we go like this?" I ask, and play it, even though it doesn't even fit into our song. I play the tune Yoongi wrote six years ago, and glance across the room, waiting for a reaction. I expect him to explode, throw a fit, try to punch me.
But he doesn't do anything. Doesn't look up, doesn't bug.
"No?" Jimin says, frowning. "This makes no sense."
I look up again. Play a little bit more of the song. Nothing. Fuck him.
"I know," I grumble.
Fine, you asshole. I will find a way to expose you.
"We'll work on it," I say. "Let's go get some food that isn't tasteless hotel noodles."
"I'll stay," Namjoon says. "Buy me some dumplings."
I scramble to my feet. "We'll buy whatever we'll find nearby."
"And what we'll be able to afford," Jimin adds. Paying for that hotel and practice room sucked us all dry – we put all the money from our last three gigs in and I added my last two salaries from my part-time at a comic store. Now we're living off of ramen packs and the cheapest edible, and safe, meat we can find.
Jimin and I walk for a while, until we find the most affordable looking Korean restaurant – Hangaram. The elderly lady welcomes us with the widest grin, complimenting chains dangling around my hips and Jimin's blazing red hair.
We tell her we will get takeout, and she gives us two menu cards, which we carry to the small table at the very back.
"Now, are we buying for everyone?" I ask.
"You wanna sponsor Yoongi's food?" Jimin chuckles when I make a face. "But it would be common decency since we share all the rooms, right?"
"Just say you wanna get fucked later and-" I stifle a laugh when he kicks me under the table. "Fine. Let's get them something. But ask your rich hook up to pay back."
Jimin rolls his eyes, but doesn't say he won't do it, so I keep the sugar daddy joke to myself and we move onto going through the menu. Jimin says we should take kimchi jjigae and beef Bulgogi, six portions of each, but I tell him we absolutely can't fucking afford it right now.
"Three of this and three of this? We'll fight for Bulgogi if we have to. Or we'll share," he says.
"This for Luna. She likes it," I say, pointing to the smoked salmon salad at the end of a menu card.
When he says nothing, I look up, only to find him looking at me, eyes almost exploding. "How do you know what Luna, your biggest nemesis, likes?"
"I don't know," I say, not really getting the confusion. I know a hell lot of things about Luna. I might know her better than myself, in many ways. "I heard her say it one day."
"And you remembered it?"
"I remember everything about her," I say, looking at the side dishes part of the menu.
Only when Jimin answers I realize how it sounds. "Oh, I knew it, you're down bad."
Like I'm writing love songs about her.
I can laugh it off. I can tell I'm just playing around and don't actually know jack shit about her. But it doesn't go through my throat, and I don't look up either, and Jimin catches up.
"Oh shit, you actually are," he whispers, like no one can hear him.
It's not that I don't trust him or Namjoon. Being in the band did bring us closer in the past three years, but I don't feel like any of them are those kind of friends to me I would trust wholeheartedly and tell everything. We are friends, but it stops at some point, before it can reach too deep.
I don't entertain deep and close relationships – friendship, family, romance – since the shit with Yoongi went down.
"Can we drop it? It's not like I should be," I mumble, eyes never leaving the words on the menu card. If he reminds me for the third time I'm down bad, when I know damn well it's pointless, I will lose all appetite and start crying.
"Why not?"
"Shitload of reasons. First and obvious, Yoongi."
"Fuck Yoongi." Jimin frowns, but his forehead smoothens immediately. "Not literally, though."
"Yeah, not literally and not metaphorically." I stand up, cutting the topic short. "I'm going to order. We're done with the conversation."
"Sit back down."
I snort. "Stop watching those fucking TikToks."
When we bring all the food back to the practice room, and I tell Luna to have a break and that I will let her practice into our scheduled time, I might be silently trying to make up for the fight yesterday. Just because everyone sees rivals in us doesn't mean I don't actually feel bad when we fight.
I hate it, and I wish we could just... talk. I'm not a talker, never have been one, but she makes me want to spend days and nights talking about everything and anything.
"Here, that's for you," I say, when she agrees on a break. "Your favorite."
"My favorite?" she asks, eyebrows creased.
"Salmon, isn't it?"
Now her eyes grow wide. "How do you know it's my favorite?"
"I just do." I shrug and move to sit on the couch and stuff my own feelings with Bulgogi I have to share with Taehyung. I refused to share with Yoongi so Jimin took it upon himself.
I know she watches me, probably thinking how I know what coffee she drinks and what food is her favorite. And I could list a few dozens of her favorites and her habits that I know, that I noticed over time, because my eyes are on her whenever it's possible.
Because I know that's all I can do, watch from afar and hope she's doing alright, drinking the best Americano, eating the best food, having a good sleep and writing songs that make her smile proudly.