Temptation [ Min Yoongi | ENG ]

T W E N T Y

At 18:20 I was ready waiting for him and my apartment was too small for my anxiety. I put on my Chelsea boot quickly, grabbed my coat and accessories and slammed the door behind me, trying not to run as I went down the steps.

Before opening the front door I put on my coat and scarf, making sure the gloves were in fact in one of my pockets.

The street was empty, many of the stores had already closed and only pharmacies and a few restaurants were open. With the cold, the sidewalk tables are put away, making the street's energy a little sadder.

I walked to the window of one of the stores and peered through the glass at some ceramic ornaments lit dimly by the light coming from the street. I sat there satisfying my curiosity for a few minutes when I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pants pocket.

Yoongi texted me he had arrived and was parking in front of my building. I looked up from the phone and looked back. When I saw his car, he flashed his headlights at me and I walked towards him. Moments later I opened the passenger door and immersed myself in the comfort of his car, sinking into the seat beside him.

"Hi." I mumbled, succumbing to my nerves.

"Hey, are you OK?" He leaned over and placed a hand on my leg while indicating that he wanted a kiss.

I leaned towards him and granted his wish.

"Yes, I'm just a little anxious." I gave him a nervous smile and he used his hand to stroke my leg.

"So am I," he admitted with a sigh, "but let's think like this: it's just dinner. We already know how the rest is." I relaxed at his smile, trusting his speech.

Yoongi drove on the N236, a road that took longer than the highway options like the A1 and A2, but which I deeply appreciated, since the highways' high speed is something that makes me very afraid.

When we arrived in Amsterdam, Yoongi preferred to park a little away from the Museumkwartier, so as not to waste too much time looking for a parking space. We got out of his car and he offered me his arm to protect me from the cold.

The restaurant was small and cozy. I ate one of the best falafels of my life while we talked. He told me about how he met Dirk at the university and how he left the student housing to move to Hilversum with him. Apparently the train journey between Hilversum and Utrecht was worth it, compared to living with other people in an environment where he didn't feel comfortable.

He also told me how his parents helped him when he reached his darkest state, even though, at that time, his parents never supported his passion for music and that was also a strong trigger for him to develop many of the mental issues he faced and still faces.

"Although I was raised in a different culture, much of my upbringing was still completely Korean." He explained it to me.

"And are the Dutch and the Korean culture very different from one another?"

"Absolutely. My parents left Korea to have better conditions for me to have a good life while growing up, but they still want me to return, to take that road back, and guarantee a peaceful old age for them."

"Do they want you to go back to Korea? To live there? " I asked a little uneasily.

"Yes, their desire is for me to marry a good Korean girl and build my life there. That's why we go to visit every year and at home our language is Korean."

"And what do you think of that?"

"I understand them. But a lot of me is Dutch too. I feel divided. I want them to be proud of me and I feel it is my duty to obey them. I already challenged them in relation to music and more..."

"And today you are successful, aren't you? Aren't they proud of you?"

"They are, nowadays they see that I was right to follow my dream, but it was a big bet." He gave a weak smile. "It is a complex issue. This is something that weighs heavily on Korean families, but not so much on Dutch families. "

"I really don't know what this is like for you", I held his hand on the table "but I am grateful that you shared this with me. I know that in a way, we all struggle to meet our parents' expectations, even when they don't actively pressure us."

We finished eating at the last minute and Yoongi accompanied me to the tram stop closest to the Stadsmuseum. It was two minutes until the next tram to Centraal Station and he hugged me, resting his chin on my shoulder, sinking his face into my scarf.

We stayed like that until the tram stopped beside us and he squeezed me tighter before letting me go completely.

The way back to Hilversum was smooth, after I arrived at the station the next train was already leaving and in less than 30 minutes I was already walking slowly towards the PH.

All of our friends at the bar ran to the table when they saw me coming, curious about details I chose not to share. Dirk and Maud were the most frustrated and Evi insisted a little before settling for my reply that the food was delicious and we had just talked about random things.

I had just one beer before announcing my departure. Maud and Evi insisted on my staying, holding my hands, but a serious look from me indicated that that night was not one for negotiations.

The truth was, I was exhausted. The day at work was long and the trip to Amsterdam tired my body, but my mind was in a worse state. The anticipation for my date with Yoongi and part of our conversation during dinner drained a lot of my mental energy. The questions from our friends, added to the atmosphere of the bar that night, were too much for me.

I walked out of the bar and found Timo and Tulip talking outside. I froze, imagining that I would hear the same questions again and be confronted with the same insistence that I had been experiencing inside, but Tulip just asked me if everything was fine and I answered, unwillingly, that it was.

Timo told me he had my special order with him and handed me the small package that he took out of his coat pocket. I sniffed the package and kept it in one of my pockets while thanking him. Before my anxiety attacks started, Timo always brought me my order, because I didn't like to go to coffee shops.

Some time later I was already at home, removing all my clothes and getting into a shower that I wished would last forever. I let the water fall on my head, wetting my hair and my face and watched the dark water stained by my mascara that ran down my breasts.

I heard my cell phone beep a few times over the bathroom sink and then I got up from my small makeshift bathtub and turned off the shower.

Yoongi

Yoongi
I'm arriving at PH, are you here?
23:46

Yoongi
Are you at home?
You didn't text me...
is everything okay?
23:52

Yoongi
You are a very frustrating woman.
0:28

I felt a lump form in my stomach as I read his texts.

I didn't really send him any messages or reply to them, lost in myself. I wanted to answer and explain what had happened, to say I was in the shower, trying to make the water clean my thoughts as well. I wanted to call him and ask him to come and stay with me tonight... but all I did was put the phone to the side and lie on the bed, covering my head with my comforter and pretending that I would be able to sleep.