I began to walk towards the door, or at least, I tried- but found my feet stuck to the ground. My heart was beating wildly, pounding in my ears. I didn't know what to expect, nor did I know what to say to the boy who was behind those doors. I gulped, and decided to wash the dishes first, before going into the said room.
But fate had decided that I wouldn't. I heard timid steps walk up to the third floor, and a girl in a black dress, white linen apron thrown over it. It was that girl. That girl who had warned me of the "monster." Her large eyes fixed on the floor and she bowed slightly.
"M-Mrs. P-Park, asked me t-to c-clean the dishes a-and cook lunch for you and him," She hissed the last part, fear turning into something a little more sinister. She met my gaze. " Why don't you run, oppa, why would you stay here?"
I clenched my jaw. Here was a person who misjudged that innocent boy who suffered alone, for something he could not control. I inhaled sharply.
"Why would I run when there's nothing to run from?" I asked, and added, "I'll be out to collect lunch, you don't have to bother knocking on your so called devil's door," I spat, and found that I was able to walk, head first and confidently towards the door of room 23.
She stared at me in shock. "Oppa..." she whispered.
"I'm not your oppa," I reminded her coldly, and knocked on the door loudly and clearly.
She quickly turned away, not wanting to see, and I remembered that I had acted like that a few days ago. If I met past me, I would not hesitate to put a knife through his stupid brainless self.
I heard a slight rustle from inside.
"Come on in eomma, I'm decent," A muffled voice came from the inside. I had to stifle a laugh. He was basically inviting me in, so I turned the knob slowly, nerves beginning to grip my throat again.
"No, Yoongi, don't be a wuss," I mumbled and swung the door open and walked in.
The room was a light cream color, white gauzy drapes half open. There was a flat screen, a gaming console and a laptop in front of a large bed. The size, I wouldn't know, I never paid attention to king size or queen size. But it was at least twice the size of my own.
The doors inside the room were pearly white, and there was a vacuum cleaner in the corner of the room. It was a beautiful room, but I felt sad. So closed off from the world, that regardless of the exertion, he had to clean on his own.
In the middle of the bed, there was a boy, hands clasped over his mouth, eyes wide and teary. Had I done something wrong?
He had light pink hair, yellowish brown eyes and a small frame that drowned in the light yellow t shirt he wore over black shorts. I tried offering him a small smile.
"Hi! You must be Jimin right? I'm Yoongi," I said, bowing a little bit.
He continued to stare. Then he shook himself out of it, fluffy hair moving from side to side as he visibly tried to get a hold of his senses.
"B-but eomma said after lunch?" He mumbled in a daze, which made me smile wider. Mrs.Park was indeed a master of deception.
"Uh-hum," He cleared his throat, sliding off the bed, and approaching me slowly. He was small. Shorter than me even. He rooted himself right in front of me. Little wisps of smoke rose off the ground, and I smelled it again. Burnt meat.
"Nice to meet you Yoongi hyung," He bowed. His voice was sweet. A little sharp and high, but it suited him. He looked much different from the lanky guy with sunken cheeks I had imagined. He seemed unsure of his actions, and he settled to study me from head to toe, scanning every single one of my features intently. His eyes widened a single degree with each feature he took in, which made me slightly uncomfortable, but made me smile all he same.
I wanted to make a joke just then, but decided against it. Sarcasm could wait. He looked at my face.
"How long?" He asked suddenly.
"How long what?"
"How long until you leave?" He rephrased the question. And for some reason unknown,I felt my heart break. Did he really assume I was going to abandon him after a single meeting? I shook my head.
"Not unless you want me to leave," I said,and his eyes, which I was sure could not get any wider, widened a bit more.
"Really?" He asked, a smile creeping up to his face despite his feeble efforts to stop it. His eyes turned into crescents, and his cheeks rose, showing off a brilliant smile. An inviting, pure and contagious one. I nodded, smiling as well.
His hand lashed out from his side, took a hold of mine leading me to his bed, Smoke emanating off his grip. I could feel the heat of the smoke, but it didn't burn me. But I was concerned that it was burning him.
He sat on the bed cross legged, and invited me to sit before him. And I did, half sinking into the fluffy mattress.
"Hyungie~" He began almost hesitantly. "Thank you,"
Such an innocent utterance. I wanted to hug him just then, and I almost did, but stopped myself, remembering that exertion activates the chemical.
"No problem Jimin-ah," I settled for the verbal response instead.
We sat there, the silence awkward, both unsure of where to begin a conversation. He shyly twisted the corner of his top. I scratched the back of my head, awkwardly fixing my glasses.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what to say,"He said softly, looking down.
Of course he didn't. He literally had zero experience.
"It's alright, how about I start a conversation and you jump in whenever you feel like it?" I asked, in the hopes that the boy would agree. He nodded slightly, giving me permission to proceed.
"Okay," I began, " Can you start by switching my nick name?" I asked, starting with a light and safe topic. This brought a smile to his face.
"Tissue boy is a nice nick name,"
"No it's not, and besides, I only wrote in a tissue once or twice, maximum,"
"But it's cuuuute,"
"Aw please~"
"Hmmm..." He began to think, brows furrowing in concentration. I tilted my head to the side.
"I'm gonna call you Min.kitty," He suddenly said, grinning from ear to ear. Now where the hell did that come from?
"Why though?" I asked.
"Because you look like a kitty. A little spectacle wearing kitty,"
"First of all, watch it, I'm taller than you," I began, philosophically raising my hand and making him giggle. "Second of all, what's with people always calling me a kitten, I don't see the resemblance at all," He was laughing now. "And third of all, just for that, I'm gonna call you Park. Mochi," I finished, crossing my hands over my chest in finality.
"What's mochi?" He echoed, and the world stopped. He didn't know what mochi was. I almost had a stroke. Everybody knows what mochi is. It's basically the first thing a kid learns.
"Mochi is a type of rice cake," I explained as calmly as I could, to which he pouted.
"I don't look like rice,"
"Oh but you do. You'll see. I'll make you mochi sometime," I offered. He nodded furiously. "Okay!" He chirped, slightly waving off the smoke that came in front of his face.
It was weird to see the disease up close, but there was a sort of fascination that kept me from freaking out. The smoke, blended well with Park Jimin, curling and twisting to almost to enhance his features.
"Are you going to come back with lunch?" He asked looking at the clock which read 11:30. I understood what he meant. Usually, I would be, and I should be cooking.
But not now, not today.
"Nope, I'm not your cook anymore,but I will pick up lunch at around twelve thirty," I said, making his face light up a little more, but then it fell.
"But I wanna eat mochi..." He pouted. I stared at him for a second. Then I began to laugh, and I did not stop laughing until my sides hurt from laughter. I could not believe this boy. He was sad because I won't make him mochi. He pouted as I bent over, catching my breath.
"Chill Jimin, I can make you mochi some time later," I chuckled grinning at the boy who blushed and looked away.
This was no monster in my eyes.
*
It was at around ten that a knock came and the door, and an angel stepped into Park Jimin's room. A little taller than Jimin himself, in a midnight black t shirt and equally black jeans, thick framed glasses,black messy hair and stars in his eyes.
For a second there, the new boy uttered no word, but scanned the room carefully, then landed on Jimin, who had covered his mouth in shock. There was a person in his room. One who was not his mother, nor a doctor.
Every movement of Min Yoongi was new. Jimin couldn't figure him out. The boy had a tender gaze, a kind smile, and a beautiful deep voice to match his comforting words.
And Jimin didn't trust that perfection. He didn't trust that this outsider was being nice to him.
But he needed to trust. Not everything in life could be a bad thing. Maybe some good would happen to neutralize the bad.
So he smiled, he talked and he relaxed, slowly getting used to the new feeling of Min Yoongi. And soon, he was comfortable. Content, and comfortable with the new presence. The boy hadn't asked him abut money, or the accident, or had run away at the sight of the smoke that came from his body.
Min Yoongi stayed.
And Jimin appreciated that. He knew that the boy was acting out in pity, but still; he appreciated the act.
A single line that left the kitten like boy's lips troubled him though.
"I'm not your cook anymore," He had said. Had he quit? Was he not coming back after today?
"Hyung," Jimin thought of voicing his concerns to this boy, who was looking at the clock, after Jimin had mentioned lunch a few moments ago.
"Hmm?" Yoongi responded.
"If you don't cook for me anymore, what do you do?"
Jimin was met with a playful yet beautiful smile. A close lipped smile, but it made his eyes appear wider, more child like.
"I'm not your cook anymore Jimin, but that doesn't mean I don't work here. Your eomma hired me as a pianist for Park Enterprises," He explained, much to Jimin's surprise.
This,indeed, was new information.
"You can play piano?" Jimin asked.
"Yep, I told you I was musical. Did you search up my stage names?" The boy asked, and that's when Jimin remembered.
Suga. Or Agust D.
Jimin had not searched it up, fearing that the man that would pop up on his screen might not be the guy he would meet in reality. But now he had seen Min Yoongi, and he was still talking about stage names. Perhaps he was being serious when he talked about underground rapping.
"You actually meant it?" Jimin asked in disbelief.
"Did you think I lied?"
Jimin went red. It was embarrassing how quickly Yoongi had caught on to the fact, but again, he hadn't really been trying to hide it.
"Heh, it's okay, I wouldn't have trusted a random stranger claiming he was an online celebrity either," Yoongi shrugged and got out of the bed excusing himself to bring in lunch. And in a while, they were eating in comfortable silence.
Time passed, they talked a bit more, and by the time for dinner approached, Jimin found that despite himself, he had grown attached to the raven haired by, and his doubts about the boy's motives had long since disappeared into the air.
But it was not like Yoongi couldn't see the sadness that had frozen in Jimin's eyes. He saw just how unsure Jimin was with this sudden change in his life. And Yoongi was determined that one day, he didn't exactly know when, but someday, he would make Jimin realize that he did not stay simply out of pity.
Through the corner of his eyes which had been glued to a comic book, Jimin saw Yoongi's sharp eyes squinting.
And in those chocolate brown orbs, Jimin saw fire.
a/n: Yoonmin have finally, freaking finally met!!! It only took eight chapters too LOL. I am so happy :)
In other news, I found one of the most devastating Yoongi tweets online;
:,)
Stay safe and be happy !!!