AOA Black – Moya

(Yes, I have AOA on my iTunes. I love AOA Black. you, FNC.)

[~678 word; almost too angsty for such a song but bear with me, I live for angst]

Jimin is tired. He’s tired of being the one who starts everything, tired of being the who sets up dates and gets bailed of, tired of being the only who tries – but apparently not tired enough to be the one who picks up the phone, again, today.  

The sun has gone completely down, stars peeking out, scattered far apart on the cloudless sky, the breeze is borderline chilly when Jimin climbs up the stairs to his apartment unit, the elevator has broken down again, second time for this month and Jimin tries to reason that the spiralling stairs is good for his cardio anyway, as if he has not been dancing for hours and the muscles on his thighs are not threatening to break here and then.

When he reaches his floor, Jimin remembers how he has wondered why the units on the upper floors are of lesser rents than their lower counterparts. He finally understands now.

He is glad to be home, nonetheless, as he grabs the wall for the switches, turning everything on with a swipe of his palm on the switch plate.

There is a magazine on his couch when he plops down to spare his sore limbs, a Shounen JUMP that could only belong to his best friend Kim Taehyung, air-flown from Japan every week and mysteriously received the next day it is released, opened mid pages and face-down. Jimin picks it up wearily and dog eared the opened page before closing it down and put it on his small kotatsu table an arm away.

Kim Taehyung is a head taller than Jimin, which warrants longer limbs as well, and could have put the magazine away properly with much less effort than it takes Jimin, but then it is so like Kim Taehyung to opt for not to.

Jimin is toying with the idea of taking back the spare keys he has given Taehyung when a thought hits him and he scrambles lazily for his bag.

“Can you please, please switch on your phone?” Taehyung has whined endlessly, for years. “You don’t even have to be glued to it 24/7, you just have to have it functioning, like the rest of us normal people do.”

Jimin would usually proceed to argue that nothing of Kim Taehyung can be considered normal.

“If I had not known better, I would have thought that you are living in misery of single life. To think that you actually have a boyfriend...”

Jimin scoffs as he watches the Samsung logo flashes on the 4 inch screen.

He has not bothered to correct Taehyung, because it’s cute that Taehyung thinks every relationship works like his; that every boyfriend sends random texts as Jungkook does, or calls every now and then to remind him of things, or just to listen to his voice.

Thirty seconds are all Jimin need to wait for to prove how wrong Taehyung is, and he carelessly throws the phone across the couch before he lets himself to fall to the side, lying down and taking the whole three-seater, heads plopped on the armrest.

Their third anniversary is approaching, the date etched at the back of Jimin’s mind as well as in those couple rings he has insisted on getting, but Jimin isn’t sure if Yoongi even knows, much less remembers.

Min Yoongi, two years older and working at an independent studio he has set up with some hyungs he has made music with since high school, with whom Jimin has been going out with since he confessed to the graduating senior in his second year, who has cancelled two of dates Jimin has went all out to plan within the month in basis of “There is these lyrics I just have to find the right beats for, alright? I could not just go out shopping or watching some stupid movies now. You understand, right Jiminnie?”

Jimin doesn’t understand.

He truly doesn’t. He doesn’t understand why Yoongi makes spending time with Jimin sounds like a chore. He doesn’t understand how they make it into their third year at all. He doesn’t understand why he still bothers, after all those broken promises spewed carelessly. He doesn’t understand why he has to be the first to call, each and every time.

Yet, after everything, he finds himself groping the couch blindly for the phone, again, today.

“...Hello, hyung, you busy? ... I’ve just come home...” 

[next update : 23/04/2015]