apology

eleven

December 18, 2015, 4 p.m.

"Park Jimin is mine."

Dabin's words resonate across the enclosed room.

I stay silent, expecting her to continue her dialogue - but she doesn't. Instead, she leans back against the basin, folding her hands and smiling triumphantly, as if her sentence is self-explanatory.

Frowning in confusion, I prompt, "So...?"

She rolls her eyes, but the smile remains. "So, you stay away from him."

"And why would I wanna do that?" I challenge, anger starting to form in my chest. Who does she think she is?

"Look," she gets up from her position on the sink, unfolding her arms and taking a step towards me. She puts on a serious look as she continues, "I've known Jimin-oppa for 12 years now - we grew up together. He would never ever like a girl like you. So it's best that you back away and don't try your luck."

My frown deepens. "What makes you think that I want him to like me?"

"Please," she scoffs, "who wouldn't want a handsome boyfriend like Jimin-oppa?"

I almost puke for the second time that day. "No, thanks," I cough, before walking past her and out the washroom.

I hear her snort, but she follows me out the restroom and back to the concert hall anyways.

***

After the boys have wrapped everything up, it's already five in the evening. Jin offers to treat us - including me and Dabin - to dinner, and we are quick to accept.

The nine of us get into the SUV, Jin taking the seat beside the driver's and the rest of us squeezing in the back. After around 30 minutes of travel, we arrive at a deserted roadside food stall outside of the city.

It looks unappetizing at first, but my impression of the stall takes a roundabout once I take my first bite. "OH MY CRAP," I swoon, quickly stuffing another spoonful of rice into my mouth. 

Apparently, these seven boys are not only talented in singing and dancing, but they also have a knack in finding good hawker food.

The boys laugh at my reaction, but soon enough, they're back to business.

"Guys, we need to start writing songs again," Namjoon announces.

"Let's write about fur coats," Jin suggests.

"No."

"High-heels."

"Jin-hyung, please-"

"What about the struggles of living life as an underground rapper, of barely being able to afford food as you try to live life doing what you love?"

"Okay, what are you talking about? Since when were you an underground rapper?"

Jin glares at him. "You don't know shit about me, Namjoon."

"Taehyung, do you have anything?" Namjoon sighs exasperatedly, moving on to the next member.

"Any what?" Taehyung looks up from his plate, mouth stuffed with food.

"Ideas."

"For what?"

"For a song," the leader almost slams his head against a wall.

"Ohhhhhh," Taehyung responds, his eyes lighting up.

We stay silent, expecting my brother to continue his sentence, but he says nothing as he resumes to chew on his dinner.