MUSE | JIKOOK ✔

MUSE PT. 1

Beyond the walls of a quaint art gallery, the citizens of a small town walk in earnest while the streets fill with exhaust and the sky with clouds.

Life is packed with countless agendas. Every single person possesses their own and while Jimin lingers in front of the open window, he's reminded of such a clear yet fascinating reality.

Sometimes, he believes he's given every right to think that his life is sitting at the very bottom of the barrel, wasting away while those with bright futures and presents pile over top of him.

But he chose this life for himself. So why is it so difficult to feel like everything is as it should be?

It isn't a guaranteed, steady flow of income. It feels more like a game of russian roulette. The only issue is that Jimin has no idea how long it's going to last and when the single bullet he's been dreading finally knocks him off of his feet.

It should have been forever ago but maybe it's some kind of sign. He hopes it is.

Jimin's eyes linger from a darling elderly couple outside to a piece of art in front of him. It reminds him of how long it's been since he's painted anything of value.

It begs the question: What determines the value of a piece of art?

The query has passed Jimin's mind frequently and yet he can never seem to figure out the answer.

If someone spends countless hours and days on a project, shouldn't that make it valuable? It bothers Jimin because more often than not, the answer is no.

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He takes off, people watching while his shoes scuff against the pavement. There has been no intendment to his destinations lately. He simply goes where his feet take him in hopes that something will spark some inspiration.

It's getting darker out sooner as the days grow colder. It's only five but the sky is nearly black and soft clouds of white plume from his lips with each breath. He ambles in the direction of the bus stop, making it there just in time.

In line, Jimin's focus is redirected to an alleyway not too far from where he's standing. The sound of something hitting the concrete triggers his curiosity.

It isn't like Jimin to get distracted so easily, but lately, it seems that's all he's been capable of. He hasn't been himself and the cause of such a frustrating modification to his personality has encouraged him to do things that he normally wouldn't.

Yes, he's seen scary movies before. If you hear a strange noise, the last thing you should do is explore it. But Jimin does.

He leaves the line, wandering toward the entrance of the back alley curiously. Nobody else seems to be paying attention. They don't care or they're smart. Clearly, none of which apply to Jimin.

A shy amount of light trickles into the alley from one of the street lights. There's a silhouette of what appears to be a man, spray painting the side of one of the buildings. He drops one of the cans on the ground and Jimin recognizes that it's the sound from earlier. His movements aren't entirely decipherable but they're done with practice - it seems that he does this often.

Suddenly, the man stops moving. Jimin can't tell if he's looking at him but the lack of activity supports his notion. He looks over his shoulder and notices that the bus is about to take off. He looks back down the alleyway and the man is gone.

An unusual feeling of melancholy drifts inside of him. He hurries toward the bus, making it just in time. His eyes linger outside while his thoughts stir.

-

Jimin adjusts his trench coat collar while walking down the street. It's a little bit colder today and there's less people outside. He stuffs his small hands into his pockets, shrugging his shoulders slightly to hug his ears in search of warmth.