Another interview, another early morning prep session. The dressing room is already clamoring with all the staff rushing about to get things ready, but then the boys start to arrive one by one, and that’s when the real party begins.
 
Laughters, whispers of gossips followed by soft giggles, wardrobes flying around and people running to get to their spots, the familiar chaos remind me of a big warm family gathering.
 
I sit and wait for my boy patiently. He’s always the last one, sometimes I think he enjoys making me wait. I roll my eyes but the little grin stays at the corner of my lips.
 
And then I spot him at the door. Soft brown hair still a bit damp from the shower, head lowering to bow to everyone, wrapped in a white hoodie with the prints in the front fading artfully.
 
Only he can make an old hoodie look so artful, another little eye roll, but my grin is betraying me and getting brighter.
 
He takes his time getting to me in the back of the room. Just as I try to force a reprimanding frown upon my face, he smiles. A wide beaming smile that makes his eyes crinkle, genuine and from the heart, as with all his smiles. And just like that he’s got me again.
 
I sigh. Jimin tilts his head sheepishly but inch closer towards me all soft and yielding, “sorry I forgot my phone and had to go back. I tried to be on time, I really tried this time!”
 
Did you now? I mouth wordlessly, averting his warm gaze. He responds with the tiniest little pout, and big puppy eyes. Big puppy eyes that are filled with smiles. Great, now he’s just playing me.
 
I adjust my expression and try to remain unfazed, “I don’t believe you. Anyways, we should probably hurry and catch up. Here’s all the clothes I pulled for you –“ I move towards the cart of clothes hanging neatly in order, only to be interjected by Jimin who rushes to get to the cart first.
 
“Lemme do it!” his hands land on the cart, arms extended strategically to block me, “just sit and rest and I can do this.” He looks sheepish but still beaming, happy to be of service. I sigh again, and silently muse about how I’ve started to sigh constantly like an old lady ever since I became his stylist half a year ago.

“Oh I like this shirt! Wooyoungmi, right? I do like that we are promoting Korean designers at these events!” he cards through the shirts gently, picking out a brown silk one with decorative maroon piping and draping it in front of his hoodie carefully as he walks towards me, “what do you think?”
 
All I see is his dark brown eyes, inquisitive and bright, hazel orbs shining with soft glimmers. I cough and try to stay focused, “it goes with your hair color, and that pair of Saint Laurent pants that you love.”
 
He nods, looks back at the cart and spots the said pair of pants already ironed and hung next to where the shirt was. I knew he was going to pick this shirt. I know him so well now, the preference to look uniquely himself but never to steal the spotlight from his beloved hyungs. I’d rather we all match each other and shine together, what he always says echoes on my mind.
 
I know, my boy, I know. That’s why you are everyone’s best friend, because you always think of others first. And it’s my job to make sure you shine just as brightly as all the stars in the world, not vying for attention but just being the irreplaceable you.
 
I get pulled out of my sentimentality when I feel a hand grab my arm. And he’s next to me, so close I can smell the fresh shampoo from his hair, and feel the heat radiating from his skin, “help me put it on please?”
 
I open my mouth to retort but nothing comes out, instead my hands betray me as they instinctively reach to grab the silk shirt from him. I gulp, and obey.
 
I the silk shirt slowly, trying not to look at him as he pulls his hoodie off. He pauses, eyes darting towards the closed changing room door not far away from us, “there’s always only one change room…”
 
“Yeah Tae is in there. And don’t just break in like you did last time, I think he’s extra tired today.”
 
He laughs, “it’s fine, they were probably playing Overwatch again last night. He actually brought his laptop this time.”
 
I glare at him, “still, you should’ve at least knocked. Just put the shirt on here and you can do the rest after he’s done then, I have the shoes lined up and the accessories picked out also.” I tilt my head to gesture towards the table next to us.
 
He nods obediently, and turns away to hastily pull the undershirt off. I see an exposed back, sun kissed tan still lingering from the beach days in Philippine. Some fragments of memory flash across my mind and make me blush, of palm leaf shadows on the beach and gentle whispers in the balmy night. 

He turns his head to look at me pleadingly, holding the undershirt up against his chest in a silly attempt to cover himself up, “shirt please?”
 
My eyes spark of mischief, “hmm, you want your shirt now? I don’t know… You were so late, always making me wait, everyone else is always on time…”
 
He scrunches up his nose cutely, and plays along, “please? I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, please can I have my shirt now?”
 
“I don’t know, Jimin, you don't sound that sincere, do you know how awkward it is to always be waiting -” 

I stop in my tracks when I feel the soft caress of his hair on my shoulder, as he nuzzles his head towards me, voice barely a whisper, “please, love?’

Just two words, barely audible, yet instantaneously my heart skips a beat and my cheeks burn. I stumble to grasp onto the silk shirt as it nearly slips out of my hands, and pass it onto him.

His torso is tilted away from me still but I can already picture the victorious smile on his face, like a kitty that just succeeded in stealing a treat. 

“I need help with the buttons.” He turns around, and tries to sound nonchalant while suppressing that damn smile. The shirt is on him now, a perfect fit of course, because I always make sure his measurements are sent to the designers beforehand. The silky fabric hugs his torso elegantly, and drapes with just the right amount of slack. Matched with his bare face and ruffled brown hair, Jimin exudes a dangerous mix of innocence and allure. I avert my gaze and do as I’ve been told. 

My hands fumble with the buttons, starting from the top. By some strange miracle, he actually stands still and lets me do the work. The heat of his body radiates through the shirt and embraces me. His shallow breath hits me faintly on my skin, yet I persist and keep a straight face, trying my best to be professional. As I lower my head to finish the last few buttons, I hear his voice pipe up again.

“I was thinking about you last night when I practiced on Jin’s guitar.” 

My hand pauses, “what do you mean?” 

“You know, that song, Love Yourself, the one you like. I can pretty much play the whole song now.” Softly, he starts singing, just loud enough for only the two of us to hear.

For all the times you made me feel small
I fell in love, now I feel nothin' at all
I never felt so low when I was vulnerable
Was I a fool to let you break down my walls?

His voice always makes my heart tremble just a little. It’s ernest, so keen just like how he is, and so in need of love. I remember all those times waiting and watching him practice singing, alone and late at night, hours after hours of looping and self criticizing and correcting, until his voice is hoarse and spirit low. Those are the days I would try to stay up to cuddle him just a bit longer afterwards, and feed him all his favorite food and drinks quietly. He doesn’t need words of encouragement, not even a listener. He’s working towards a dream, slowly but determinedly, and in the end that’s all that matters to him, that he never stops trying. All I can do is stay with him, for however long our paths intersect, and silently cheer him on in my own way. 

I hate these moments, when the smallest thing like his whispering singing voice makes my heart feel so damn weak, hate how he makes me lose control. As I finish with all the buttons and raise my head back up, in a sudden act of defiance that surprises both of us, I find the courage to graze the side of his face with my lips ever so slightly before stepping away towards the accessories table. 

He stands there stunned for a second, but before long rushes over with raised eyebrows, “wow, what was that?” His hand reaches for my arm and chin nudges onto my shoulder. I push him away, before it gets worse and everyone starts to stare, but he’s not budging. 

“I thought you said to keep it discreet!” he’s not letting me off easily. 

“Jimin… please…let’s just get you ready.” I go to my last resort and plead, trying to sound as innocent as possible. 

“You started it.” he pouts again, pink lips sticking out cutely and forming a little heart, but then he complies and picks out one of the few bracelets I have placed on the table. 

“Do you want to switch out your earrings to match?” I ask him teasingly, and smile as he gasps and covers the small earrings already dangling on his ears, pretending to prevent me from taking them. 

“Never, I’m keeping these on forever.” 

Chrome Hearts cross tail drop earrings, unassuming but dangles just enough to catch your attention when he dances. But then again, nobody’s looking at his earrings when he dances, he’s all precise movements and sensual curves, making you stare in awe and unable to look away. He’s always stunning on stage, where he belongs.

These earrings are the only gift I’ve ever given him, after he slipped during concert last year and was really upset with himself. I’ve never allowed myself to get him a formal gift, just like how I’ve never believed what we have is more than some temporary and unspoken thing. I don’t want to burden him with it all. But that whole week, he was so down, just letting the weight of it all finally getting to him. So I left these for him at the dorm with a small note. I will never forget the way he looked when I spotted him later that night, waiting outside of my apartment building, hiding under the rain under a leaky shop canopy. Half of his shirt was soaking wet, but he didn’t seem to care. Like some cliche movie, time suspended and the world seemed to have faded into the background, all I could see was the innocent expression on his face, serene and content, like he could’ve waited happily in the rain forever. How I wish I could preserve that moment, encapsulate it and cherish it deep within my heart, the most beautiful moment of my life.

“Is this guy bothering you?” suddenly someone grabs Jimin by the shoulder and shoves him to the side roughly, “because if he is, I can totally beat him up for you!” 

I look at the giggling Jungkook who is now trying to dodge as Jimin retaliates and wrestles him by the neck, and can’t help but laugh too. 

“Are you wearing blue contact lenses? What the hell, you know that’s my thing!” Jimin’s got him pinned under his arm now, but I give him maybe a minute before Kookie recovers and pray that they don’t mess up their outfits in the meantime.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, and punches Jimin on the side just enough for him to let go, “oh please hyung, these are DARKER than the ones you wore. And you are not even wearing lenses today!” 

As I guessed, Jimin loses to the muscle bunny rapidly and starts to groan as Jungkook lands another punch, “ok ok, you can wear them, you brat, you win! Stop, stop before you wrinkle my shirt!”

Jungkook does eventually stop, after throwing a few more punches and tossing Jimin around roughly by the shoulders. He looks towards the other end of the room, where Namjoon is impatiently gesturing for both of them to get over. Makeup time in the other room, the first interview is probably already set up and ready to go. “Alright, hyung, let’s go.” he gives me a happy nod and a toothy bunny smile.

“Ok, ok I’m coming!” Jimin hastily throws a ring on his finger as he gets dragged away. Our eyes meet before he’s gone, and he suddenly pipes up, “come over to my room tonight?”

“What! No!” I make a silly face and raise an eyebrow.

He laughs, resisting Jungkook’s drag and failing miserably at it, “the song! I want to play the song for you on the guitar!” I can see Jungkook rolling his eyes. 

I finally respond, “maybe, we’ll see.”

And they are gone, their giggles echoing in the hallway outside. 

Silly boy, I look back at the pair of pants he’s forgotten on the rack, and shake my head, but my heart is b with joy and my smile is ear to ear.

Silly indeed.