"What happened out there? You were doing great." He slipped through the window, sliding off his blazer to reveal his white stained shirt. He dropped himself on Sora's bed and kicked off his shoes. "You know, you should get out of your head entirely. That little brain of yours..." He shook his head with a tsk. "No good darling. No good."
" If you're here to patronise me, leave." Sora snarled, dropped to her knees to yank out her suitcase from under her bed. She almost clawed it open.
"I would, but you won't let me. How long will you survive on those?" He cocked his chin to her bottle, watching her drop four pills at the back of her throat.
"Leave Namjoon!"
Without a word, he left.
Sora closed her eyes, feeling the hit of the pills strike a nerve. Her whirling mind soothed to a standstill, the ringing in her ears toned to a deafening silence, the churning of her stomach ....it didn't stop.
____________
"Yah! Lisa." Jimin's blonde hair peeped through the neighbouring classroom door (Class 4z).
Lisa, who was seated at the back, sneaked a peek underneath her lashes before she ignored him.
But Jimin was hard to ignore. The class buzzed up, flashing smiles and throwing conversation starters at him while he ambled to Lisa's desk, planted his palm on her desk and levelled their gazes.
"Hello beautiful."
"You're giving me a migraine. Whatever you need, go bother Jungkook."
"I'm looking for my girlfriend. Jungkook says he saw you with her."
She cocked her head, scrunched her forehead. "What?"
"Sora..."
She rolled her eyes, tipping her attention to her exercise book.
"...where is she?"
"I'm right here. How would I know?"
Jimin straightened up, wished her a good day and left.
He peeked his head in other classrooms, surveyed the hallways, stepped outside until...
"There you are." He said under his breath.
Red hair climbed up the stairs that headed to the music room. Quietly, he followed, palms rubbed against each other. He felt giddy, jumpy.
He stood by the door watching her plant her face on the large window pane and relax her form. After a minute of observation, he cleared his throat. She jumped, whipped her head at him, stuttered.
It was one of those very few moments that Jimin was tongue tied. He cleared his throat again, walked into the middle of the room then stopped when she pressed herself against the window, cowered.
"What are you doing here?" The softness of his voice surprised him. But what was with the question? She was allowed to be here anyway. He racked for another question but nothing thus, he watched her frost, crystalize into a fragile shell. There was a squeak and he wanted to laugh. "What is wrong? I won't bite." He took a single step forward and her eyes followed the movement, cementing him on the spot.
Honestly, what was this situation?
It was baffling for him. Nerve wrecking.
"You will atleast have to speak to me at one po- hmm?"
She sounded...cold, drowned underwater, kissed by a gust of wind, echoing a siren.
"Am I in trouble?"
"No. If it helps, it's Saturday. You can never be in trouble on a Saturday or Sunday."
She nodded and he lowered himself to catch a glimpse of her downcast eyes. Her hair parted away from her face and he skimmed her light lashes, her nose, her full cheeks. She turned, more red hair.
"What do you want?" She asked.
"To talk." He faces her back.
"About?"
"Nothing.." A shrug. "Everything." She was hard to talk to. The type to make someone suffocate in their own curiosity and burst out boring, blunt questions. "What is your favorite coulor?" Such as an example. The back of his neck flushed in embarrassment.
"What?"
He must be mistaken, but her shoulders quaked as if in a laugh.
"I'm guessing red?" He continued striding close to her. She didn't move.
"No."
"What is it?" His voice is beside her. They stood side by side, Sora tilting her body away from him, him facing his body towards her, chasing her gaze which she relentlessly steers anywhere and everywhere but on him.
"Purple."
Purple.
"It doesn't...It's hard to imagine you in purple."
"I don't wear purple."
"Exactly."
"I don't have to wear my favorite color."
"Right. Right. Of Course not." He awkwardly nodded, feeling uncomfortable at the creeping silence.
"Do you have any friends?" He stiffened. Something changed. He doesn't know what but he is aware that he struck a nerve. Her body stilled. There is more distance between them.
"That's none of your concern."
"I can show you around if you want–"
"I'm not new."
"If you need company–"
"I don't."
"I want to be your friend."
"I don't."
It unexpectedly sliced him.
"Why not? I'm fun."
"Exactly."
"I'm only ..." He runs his fingers through his hair, wiping off sweat as he did so. " It's only friendship."
Silence.
She turns and leaves. He reaches for her, retracts his hand and mutters something under his breath.
____________________
It's only friendship.
Friendship
The word tuggles at her brain, bounces left and right, buzzing in her ear; she doesn't hear Namjoon speak beside her.
Friendship.
Friendship?
With Jimin?
The picture doesn't look right. Pretentious. Ridiculous. She scoffed. Friendship?
She doubles over, another convulsion ripples through her gut. She gags again. Namjoon gathered her hair in a loose bun, his palm soothingly moving up and down her back. The retches come and go for a solid five minutes, painfully emptying her stomach.
"You irritate me." Namjoon's cold breath sweeps above her head, his anger scalding her back. She couldn't blame herself that she wasn't in the mood for holding any conversation. Somewhat, she felt guilty with what happened with Lisa. Somewhat.
"Go away." Sora croaked, pulled herself on her feet. By the sink, water splashed on her hands.
"You can't be isolated for the entire term yn. And everything is working out for you. Why are you not taking the chances? You like Jimin. Don't you?"
"They want something from me."
"What would they possibly want from you?" Namjoon scoffed, eyes bulging out in disbelief.
Avoiding her reflection in the mirror, she spun to stitch her gaze on Namjoon.
What would they possibly want?
"You'd bore them. Inconvenience them. Do you think anyone would be interested in what you have to say? You're a depressing bum sweetheart you make people uncomfortable. Besides, you don't deserve happiness. Not after you killed someone."
"And got away with it." A voice hisses.
"Go away Namjoon." Sora huffed.
But he was already gone. Knowing him, his patience must've run out on her. She doesn't blame him. She too would be exhausted with herself. It doesn't matter though. She has managed three years alone.
What is one more year?
Blergh!
Sora shoots her eyes to the stall to her left, the one closest to the door. There is a sniff, another blergh then a throaty sob. Sora fumbles over her words wanting to voice her concerns, confused at the realization that she wasn't alone. By the time the first coherent word slips and dissolves on her lips, Momo steps out of the stall.
"Who's Namjoon?"
Guuush! The water runs over Momo's hands.
Sora bit her lip in the hopes that Momo would forget she even spoke in the first place or that she was there.
"Can you speak?" Momo snapped.
"What are you talking about?" Sora.
"Namjoon. What does he want from you?" Pause. "Ghad, you're so weird and creepy. Vudu? Making some sort of concoction over the toilet?" With a scrunched nose, "Do you drink toilet water? Were you making some sort of spell and Namjoon is the spirit you are consulting?"
Sora blinked. Quiet.
"You're a disgusting weirdo." She bangs the door shut on her way out.
Sora fished out a bottle out of her skirt pocket and popped two purple pills in her mouth.
_____________
"Yo babe, can you do me a favor?" Momo splayed herself on Jungkook's back. He sat on a wooden stool under a tree handwashing his fleece jacket. A huff of air expels from him.
"Can you give me the keys to the nurse's cabinet? Pretty please?"
"Can't." Jungkook says shrugging Momo off his shoulders.
But she doesn't budge, like a cat, she stretches, seemingly envelops him in a hug. "I'm begging you."
"No."
"Kook!"
Momo Huff's, plants her face on his shoulder feeling her stomach twist and pinch, an entire tsunami. She sits up with a hand slapped across her mouth. A bitter taste bubbles at the back of her throat, she swallows before speaking again—voice groggy. "Please."
"Are you okay?"
With a roll of her eyes she huffs. "Oh yeah, of course I'm fine, otherwise I wouldn't be asking."
"The keys are in my bag in a small black pouch."
"You're the best!" She says with a jump, spinning on her heels. His voice stops her.
"What does Lorlei think of me?"
It was a question she never thought about. Lorlei and her never thought about it, Taehyung was a predominant factor in their lives and Jungkook was...
There.
Handsome, smart, hospitable, and...
...there.
"A friend I guess? What do you mean?"
He drops the fabric in the water, a small splash spraying his bare shin, he turns to her, propping an elbow on one knee.
"Romantically, do I have a chance with her?"
She couldn't help but act surprised—buy herself time to think of an answer that would gently lay it down for him.
She rumbled, fawned, slapped his back, and for some unknown reason congratulated him.
Jungkook offers no reaction. He doesn't move. He waits, waits for her answer, braces for the truth that he already knew but couldn't admit.
"You're her friend."
"And nothing else?" It almost sounded like a whimper.
"I'm not Lorlei Kook. Go for it. I'm rooting for you."
"Do you think I have a chance?"
"I don't know—"
"You're her friend—"
"You are too. Just do it man. If you are one of those douchebags that can't handle rejection then you're a dick and not a match for my friend."
He drops his chin to his chest with sporadic nods. He is nervous, it ripple through him in waves.
Off and on
Up and down
Silences him and he concentrates on his laundry.
"Good luck." Momo mutters, brisking away.
Thankyou for reading. Sorry for any errors.
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