JIMIN
It's Saturday afternoon, and it's been less than ten minutes since Taehyung texted that he was staying over at Jungkook's parents' place back in Busan for the weekend. He said we could reschedule our talk some other time once he returns, and messaged me saying that he'll bring me back some kimchi.
And I'm. . . irritated.
Reschedule our talk, like I'm supposed to be his secretary and know beforehand everything he has going on in his life, my own be damned. Besides, it's not like I had anything extraordinary planned. I had hoped to apologize to him before Jungkook had a chance to snatch him away, but that failed gloriously.
If it wasn't for the fact that I'm halfway through eating lunch with my mother, I'd be putting up more of a fuss, demanding to know where they are so I could lay into both of them face to face.
But what good would that do? I have no choice but to wait it out and allow myself to trust Taehyung. And I do trust him. It's just his boyfriend that puts me on edge.
I don't even have a reliable reason for my suspicions other than the general vibe he gets off giving, the way he so easily gained Taehyung's trust and slipped into our world like water, and the way he gets attention when I have to work so hard to be seen.
Plus, he's just a prick. We have nothing in common beside our varying levels of love for Taehyung. If he wasn't on Taehyung's mind, we probably would have nothing to do with each other, maybe give a passing nod out of respect, but that would be the extent of it all.
"You okay, Chim Chim?" my mother asks, her eyes glancing over at the view.
I snap a quick photo of the golden sunset and of her as she stares out from the seat across from me and then set down my phone, reaching to grasp her hand in mine. "I'm fine, Eomma. Just thinking is all."
"Always thinking," she chuckles. "Just like your father."
She doesn't talk about him often, I assume because it's all too painful. All I know beyond a few photos I've seen as a child is that they met during college, and she believed his name was Park Pil-wok and not Park Pil-woo. They shortly married after.
I don't feel anything now, not any resentment or anger because why should I? He left when I was two-years-old and the rest was filled with my mother's time. Why waste tears for a person that wasn't there for you?
She hums as she takes another sip of tea. "How is school treating you? Are you eating well?"
"I am."
She tilts her head. "Are you? You seem to have lost some weight."
I pick at my tteokbokki. "Just stress. Nothing too big."
"Tell me," she says, gripping my hand tighter for a moment before releasing it and leaning back in her chair. "You know me, Jimin. I'll find out eventually, so come forth and say it. Is it school? Do you need to come back home, because I have everything as you left it."
"No, no, it's not school." I try again, testing the waters without diving in headfirst. "Taehyung and I got into a fight recently."
Her eyebrows raise and she sits straighter. "What happened? You boys always get along so well."
My stomach tenses. As much as I love my mother, I know how to keep things under wraps, things like Taehyung's relationship with Jungkook. But my heart splits, wanting to confide in my own mother but still being under the loyalty oath I promised Taehyung so many years ago.
"It was a girl," I lie.
Her eyes close and she nods as if solving a mystery. "Ah, women will do that to young men. We're vicious monsters with cute faces and empty promises."
"Eomma!"
"It's the truth," she says casually. "However, that does not give her the power to break up a perfectly good friendship. Nor should she be able to in the first place." She takes another sip of tea. "Your friendship is strong. Don't let someone destroy that."
I sigh. "But what if he really likes her and she hates me?"
"Then she's blind," my mother says like she's talking about the weather. "If this girl is giving you a hard time, perhaps it's best to give Taehyung some space so he can figure things out on his own. Once he sees that you're gone, he's going to have to choose between you or her. And if I know Kim Taehyung, that boy will come crawling back to you."
I give her a small smile and we finish eating. It will be dark soon and I don't like the idea of her driving at night, but she insists that she'll be fine. As we ride back to the campus dorms, mother asks, "So how is school? We never talked about it."
My stomach tenses. The first image coming to mind is Professor Min, how he spoke and held me so gently like glass. He's seen me at my worst, and yet isn't repulsed by me. And as far as I know, there's been no reports about my fight with Taehyung.
"It's been fine," I say as casually as I can muster. "I made a new friend. His name is Jung Hoseok. He's really nice."
She smiles. "Good. I'm glad you're branching out."
I stare straight ahead. I can tell she's wanting to hear more about my grades, about my teachers, but I'm afraid that if I say anything, something will come up. My mind races alongside the car, trying to keep everything casual, no cause for suspicion.
She must see right through me. "It seems like something's bothering you."
I let out a slow breath and pinch my finger pads. "There's someone that. . . that likes me."
"Really?" she says, her voice bright. She seems pleased, happy that I confided in her and shared my secret, or maybe she's relieved at the idea of her only son having an admirer, being social, fitting in.
"Tell me about her," she says.
She asks for a name, and I blank; she's expecting a her-not a he. My mother has always been supportive, but she's with the majority group believing that same sex relationships send you straight to Hell. I could use a fake name, and probably should, but the temptation to say it out loud is overpowering.
I think on my feet. "Her name is Yoonji."
"Oh, that's pretty. Is she from Korea?"
I shrug. "She's from Daegu."
"Wonderful!" she cheers. I can see her rosy cheeks out of the corner of my eye. "Is she nice to you?"
I think of Professor Min looking at me, how his eyes constantly search for something in me. I think of the way his gaze lingers a bit too long on me when he's teaching and how he shakes his head and moves on like I distracted him.
"She's nice to me."
"Good," she says. "That's the only thing I care about."
I lean against the headrest, close my eyes. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest, the relief of hearing her say that Professor Min being nice is the most important thing, and if treating me well is better than looks, then it's more important than the age difference, or him being male, or him being my teacher.
It's suddenly sickening, this conversation, the deception, treating it all like a game.
Am I a monster? I wonder. I must be. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to lie so easily.
"And do you like her back?" she asks.
I sit unmoving, unblinking, uncertain. The city lights speak more than I do, blinding us for a few miles until we reach a stretch of darkness. My eyes adjust and I feel myself sinking into the shadows.
Eventually, she speaks for me. "You don't have to answer now. I just want you to be happy," she says. "Happy and surrounded by people who are nice to you."
"I am."
Mother presses her lips together, a bigger smile slipping. "First love is so special," she says. "You'll never forget it."
The rest of the drive is silent, broken when mother turns on the radio and plays the newest K-Pop band's debut. It's peppy, a girl group I've never heard of. She bops along while my mind refuses to let me enjoy myself. I can't stop thinking about Professor Min. How I lied to my own mother to protect something that's probably nothing.
We haven't broken any official rules- teachers hold hands with students to balance them, to reassure them, it's a gesture made to be taken as caring. Maybe that's all there is to it, he wanted to steady me because I was such a mess in front of him. The thought of Professor Min dropping everything to hold me makes my heart involuntarily flutter.
Twenty minutes before curfew, we arrive outside the dorm buildings. I race around the car to give Eomma a quick kiss on the cheek and dash inside. She calls after me that she loves me and drives off. Once I'm inside, it takes me all of five seconds to get changed for bed.
My roommate isn't back yet, leaving me alone for the first time since we were assigned a room together. I slip into the twin sized bed and check my phone; no messages from Taehyung. I chew on the inside of my cheek as I wonder what he's doing- or rather who he's doing.
Silently, I stare at the screen, picturing an image of Professor Min blown up on my screen with the caller ID spelling out his name. I'm giddy just thinking about his voice on the other end, how it sounds, what he'll say when he sees I'm calling him. Would he hang up?
It's funny how wrong all of this is, how I get excited thinking of a mere phone call while Taehyung has to work at getting laid. There's always another option instead of waiting around for someone as indecisive as you: bypass boys and go straight to men. Men who use four syllables to compliment your handwriting. Men who read your face and think before they do anything.
Men who fall in love when they know they shouldn't.