The lecture hall is filled with fellow students, who are listening to the information that is being told about the current subject from the seats on the tribunes. The only other sound in the room beside the monotone voice of the grizzled professor, is the scribbling of pen on paper, jotting down the words in ink before they are forgotten and thus create mayhem during the examinations. I, however, pay not much attention to the lecture because my mind is occupied by the strange awakening, not by the events of the past that have shaped the country.
'Miss Bennett, can you at least try to seem interested?' the professor's stern voice pulls me back into reality and ashamedly I apologize, after which I grab a ballpoint from the pen case next to the empty page to at least get some use out of the class.
Sitting within the professor's sight on one of the first rows is basically a death sentence for dreamers as has been proven once more thanks to the current situation.
It was not the plan to act like this when I came here, but things just happen.
I cannot wait until the remaining two hours are over. Not that they will be useful anyway, but nonetheless they can be used in order to understand other things.
*
'Scarlet? Yo, Scarlet!' Jimin tries to grab my attention by snapping his fingers right in front of my field of vision, the sound fierce and sharp. With absent eyes, sight actually still turned towards the thoughts which were at last oppressed during the lecture thanks to the realization it might be handy nonetheless, I look at the black-haired boy across the table. 'Is something going on? You seem so lost in thought.'
His lecture ended at the same time as mine and we decided to read our notes over in the cafeteria, which lead to us being here now.
The smell of caramel macchiato, which is incomparable to the one at the bakery, fills everyone's noses in combination with the aromas of cooled artificial food and warmth of homemade meals. I prefer the mix of coffee and baked bread, everything fresh and vibrant, over this slightly fissiparous one. 'I just had a very strange morning,' I mumble in response, rubbing my forehead in the hopes of gaining more clarity instead of only more questions.
'It must have been really odd if you are behaving like this. What happened?' He leans back in the cherry red chair, arms crossed over his chest.
Shall I tell him, about the wolf? He will probably not believe me, no matter how I present the situation to him.
No, it is better to keep quiet lest another stamp of insanity will be put upon me.
On the other hand, Taehyung seems to know more and he is friends with Jimin, so does he know the same as the lad with the orange hair? There is a big chance lies shall be told once more if I tackle the subject.
There has to be a way to avoid this conversation which can be found quickly.
An idea pops into my head, but the question is whether he will be happy about it.
Unnoticeably, I bite the inside of my lip, the doubt mingled with fear in the shape of a fantastic stone that directly sinks to the bottom of the stomach, before I take a chance with the last bit of remaining courage which has withstood the descend. 'The other day in the bakery, when you stormed off,' I begin, not daring to look him in the eye, too afraid of what can be seen in them, 'what was the reason behind it? I was really worried. Still am, actually.'
Ever since it happened, it has not stopped haunting the chaos of thoughts which has been created since the move.
The dancer shifts uncomfortably in his chair, the attitude filtering through in the words he speaks. 'You don't have to be, I'm fine.'
'You're not. You look pale and that day you probably haven't eaten anything at all. Are you trying to lose weight? If you do, this is not the way to do it. Hell, you don't even have to, Jimin. You're already skinny and looking great.' A deep inhale of breath, because all that came out in one go and more unrestrained than was anticipated.
He shakes his head and two sorrowful blueish grey oceans catch my gaze. 'I wish I could believe that, truly. I also wish you'd understand why I'm doing this.'
'How many meals a day do you eat?' Surprised he has apparently decided to lay his cards on the table, I lean forward and entwine my fingers with one another, a sign that there is a listening ear in the form of a friend present.
'Merely breakfast,' he admits, tone as dreary as the gloomiest autumn day in England, when the world is made of nothing but a constant rain that shrouds the world in a grey veil and heavy gusts of wind which make the branches of the trees tremble so much there is a risk they may break off.
A raised eyebrow, expecting that this is not all. 'And for the rest? Nothing?'
He nods. Doubtfully, he runs a hand through his inky black locks, the sense of disappointment undeniable, 'Nothing but water.'
'Jimin, it's not healthy to live like this.' It costs an immense amount of determination to not stand up, pull him off his seat, and assure him via an embrace before the tears begin to flow. Nevertheless I stay put, petrified by the information about what he does to himself.
'I know and yet I can't stop, you know?' He seems to realize something. 'How did you know I had not eaten anything else that day?'
'I suspected something was going on, yet did not know at the time that this was happening.'
His gaze softens, but is still grimmer than ever. 'Namjoon hyung talked some sense back into me after I broke down. I didn't want you to see me crying because of this, that's why I left and why he ran after me. He's always there for me and the others.' He smiles at the thought of the older guy.
I knew why Rapmon would go after him, but the thought of Jimin crying breaks my heart. And the opportunity to see it nonetheless has unfortunately not been evaded as of yet.
'That indeed sounds like Namjoon. However, this is a serious issue. Does anyone besides the crew know? Have you gotten any professional help?'
'In the past I had, for a couple of months. During that time everything went well, until-' He trails off, letting the guesses as to how the sentence ends, all the good and bad scenarios, float in the air.
'Until what?' I ask softly, voice gentle and unprejudiced. Carefully I put my hand on his arm, digits testing the waters beforehand by slowly curling around him in the expectation he will pull away. Gratefully he places his hand over mine, the touch warm and loving, and watches them in silence for a moment.
Then he takes a deep breath, having gathered himself enough to continue the account with a steadier voice. 'Until one day the therapy definitely changed my life.'
'In what way?' It does not sound like that cliché of therapy having saved one's life. It sounds bad, very bad, in the manner that makes the hairs on the back of the neck stand on edge. As is the case with me whilst a certain dark cloud treks over the blue aventurine seas and swallows me up in a likely inappropriate curiosity.
Just as he is about to say something, the maknae and his partner in crime, the two better known as Jungkook and Taehyung, join us.
'What are we talking about?' The youngest of among us enquires cheerfully as soon as he sits down next to me, his arm upon which veins pop out due to many hours spent in the gym on the back of my chair and the scent of tropical fruit piercing. A bit embarrassed thanks to his closeness despite him not meaning anything with it, I lean further forward so he cannot touch me, a wave of relief immediately washing over me because of the distance between us.
'Nothing,' Jimin answers, trying to return to his former self and thus betray nothing about the very personal conversation we just had.
Somehow he manages, but Tae notices the change regardless, though the other newcomer remains oblivious. 'Is something wrong, hyung?' His eyes worriedly take the dancer in, searching for a clue which gives a sign of what is going on. Or was going on, better said.
The concerned person shakes his head and smiles. 'I'm fine, Tae tae.'
'Okay.' He does not sound convinced and keeps a careful eye on the other boy as we chat about all the little things which in truth do not matter, until it is time to go our separate ways.
This story is far from over. Hopefully the rest of the tale shall be revealed next time because I want to know how it ends.
*
I am dumbfounded by what I discovered about Jimin today. It took a lot of trust and courage to speak of it, which means that we evidently have a closer friendship than expected, a bond in which we both care for one another and ostensibly there are more of those kinds of bonds related to me than I originally thought.
Perhaps, just perhaps, I may proudly say that I am somewhat of a member of their group. The mere thought of it fills me with joy. Finally a place where I belong.
After the working seminar there is still some time left to go to the library and start with the research for the essay about the Silla empire, since I have decided to go home around six o'clock anyway.
The professors sure are enthusiastic here because they give grand assignments and expect us to fulfill them within two weeks time, presuming we are like a bunch of inexhaustible moles which are continuously digging willingly in the chase for wisdom through the paper literary soil of the books in the library. Or they assume we are all night owls, which is true in a sense, but not in the manner they think we are.
The interior matches the outside, cool white and blue hues are interrupted by the multi-coloured book spines on the shelves that kind of warm the serious atmosphere. In the far right corner, people are busily typing on their laptops, seated at one of the pearly white lacquered tables. Left is a little lounge space where a few students are enjoying some literature on the weathered charcoal black couches.
I walk up the light wooden stairs that lead to the first floor, where the history department is. A couple of desks are put down in little groups of four all throughout the length of the space and thus form small wooden islands in the ocean of texts which have been gathered over the years.
A person who I had never thought to meet here sits at the desk on the most right side of the place.
When I put the brown leather-bound notebook and matching pencil case- the last birthday gifts Amanda, expression unable to conceal the strange disgust with which she handed me the package, gave me in father's name - on the table in front of him, his dark eyes briefly look up from the page he was studying.
As soon as he notices it is me, he smiles, showing his dimples. 'Hey,' Namjoon whispers, not wanting to disturb the rest. He is wearing thick-rimmed onyx glasses and a simple white T-shirt. His characteristic black leather jacket is draped around the back of the same-coloured chair. Suddenly he does not seem so intimidating anymore, more like a bookworm who is right at home here. 'What's up?'
Less nervous than normally due to the intensity of the motor rider being toned down multiple levels, I take place on the seat opposite him. 'Lots of notes have to be magically transformed into an essay and a ton of research needs to be done to top it off.' A tired sigh at the future prospect disturbs the tranquility. 'So you can pretty much guess what's up.'
'Knowledge is vital in understanding. How can one ever take a grasp of the world around him if he cannot think and thus show comprehension?'
I am taken aback by his philosophic attitude. Never had I dared to think he has this side to him. 'That's deep. I did not know you were so philosophic?'
'It's what I study and what I enjoy,' he answers casually, lightly shrugging as if what is said is nothing special.
Namjoon likes philosophy? That is quite a surprise because he does not seem like the type for it. Never judge a book by its cover.
'Wow, I never would have guessed that.' The astonishment can be heard in the tone of my voice and read in the gaze which is locked on to his.
'Yeah, I hear that a lot,' he chuckles at the remark, a deep pleasant sound which makes him appear even more as another than the leader of the band of chaps that has unexpectedly entered my life.
'What are you reading?' The book in his hands does not look like a textbook, but I cannot see the title nor the author's name, hidden by long fingers.
'Kafka's Metamorphosis. You should read it sometime. I think you'd like it.'
'I'll note it down.' Directly I jot down the title and the writer's name on the small TBR list I made on a post-it note on the inside of the journal.
'Is there something on your mind?' the tall man suddenly enquires, the surprise so big that the pen clumsily slips away between my fingers and lands on the opened written page. 'Taehyung-ah told me you were acting differently than usual.'
So Tae also noticed a change in me. The orange-haired boy is more observant than I thought. 'Jimin told me about his problem.'
Namjoon's eyes acquire a sympathetic expression. 'Really? This has to be the first time he has told anyone outside the group.'
So he truly has never told anyone besides the lads and his therapist. Not even his parents? On the other hand, I cannot blame him. His father and mother cannot understand him the way his friends do, they who seem closer to him than his relatives.
'What exactly did he tell you?'
I tell him everything the brave boy told me. 'And when we got to probably the most important part, Taehyung and Jungkook waltzed in,' I conclude the report of this morning.
'Ah, that day. We all remember it well.' His visage darkens as the memory resurfaces, once again having the same effect on me as the eery glint in the dancer's blue-grey eyes.
They all remember that day, which means it must hold some meaning to all of them and not to just Jimin. More puzzle pieces appear and make me wonder how they fit into the image, it be without disturbing the designers inappropriately.
'What happened then?' I ask. Curiosity gets the better of me, because it has to know what hidden knowledge is present and although it feels like intruding on their private lives, I want to know what happened and how things changed. How they have changed thanks to this ''therapy''.
Namjoon gets up from his spot, puts his book in the backpack on the floor next to the chair and puts on his jacket. 'Walk with me?' he asks kind-heartedly, almost encouragingly, clearly having something to say which cannot be shared in the current circumstances.
I nod, quickly gather the just unpacked belongings, and return them to the bag from whence they came.
Together we walk out the building and leave the campus via the sand path covered by the branches of the many oak trees through which tightly knit roof of leaves rays of sunshine nevertheless protrude.
Straight into nature and in the direction of the most beautiful place I have ever seen.