Jimin

Stop with the trip to guilty, Jimin. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re not doing anything wrong. Your heart is beating this way because you simply never felt someone singing before. It was captivating. You had a normal reaction to something captivating. That’s it.

My eyes are still closed, and my arm is still under him. I should move it, but I’m still trying to recover.

And I really want to hear another song.

This could be turning awkward, but I have to help him to not feel awkward, because I can thing in another situation in which I’m going to be capable to do this.

Me:

Can I play another one?

He holds his phone, sending text messages with someone I don’t know. I ask myself if he’s sending messages to Hoseok, but I don’t sneak peak to his phone, as much as I want to.

Jungkook:

Alright, the first didn’t do anything for you?

I laugh. I think that he did a bit too much, in more senses that I’d like to admit. I’m almost sure that it was obvious for him by the end of the song, by the way I pressed against him. But feeling his voice and what it makes to all the other parts o me, it was somehow more important than what he was doing to me.

Me:

I’ve never heard” anybody like this. It was incredible. I don’t even know how to describe it. I mean, you were here, and you sang, so I guess you don’t need that I describe it. I’d like you could feel that.

Jungkook:

You’re welcome, I guess. I’m not doing anything deep.

Me:

I’ve always wanted to feel someone singing one of my songs, but that would be a bit awkward doing this with one of the boys from the band. You know what I mean?

He laughs, and then nods.

Me:

I’m going to play what we practice last night, and then I want to play this last one again. Is it okay? If you’re tired of singing, you tell me.

Jungkook:

I’m fine.

He leaves his phone down, and I put myself against his chest. My whole body is fighting against myself. The left part of my brain is telling me this is wrong somehow, the right part is waiting to hear him again singing, my stomach is nowhere to be found, and my heart is hitting its face with an arm and hugging itself with the other.

I could never have this chance again, so I wrap my arm over him and start playing. I close my eyes and look for the beats of his heart that has calmed a bit since the first song. The vibration of his voice meets with my cheek, and I swear that my heart shudders. He feels like I imagined his voice would feel during a song, but multiplied by one thousand. I focus in how his voice mixes with the vibration of the guitar, and I’m completely amazed.

I want to “listen” the register of his voice, but it’s hard using my hands to feel. I put my hand away from the guitar and stop playing. He simply stops singing. I deny with the head and make a move of a circle with the finger in the air, wanting him to keep singing even though I’m not touching the strings.

His voice lifts again, and I keep pressing firmly my ear against his chest while I put the palm of my hand against his stomach. His muscles turned hard under my hand, but he doesn’t stop singing. I can feel his voice everywhere. I can feel it in my head, in my chest, against my hand.

I relax against him and I hear a sound of a voice for the