colours // yoonmin

four

s u n d a y s ;
He was there again the next morning. I have a good view of his soulless eyes which were staring out of the window yet again, and for some reason, it made me feel a bit self-conscious. I shift awkwardly on my bed.

I try to focus on the book I have in my hands and force through the paragraphs in an attempt to trap them in the words, but they kept looking up and getting caught in Yoongi's - that's his name, right? - instead, getting lost in them for a solid minute (or two, or five) before flickering back to the page. To make it worse, little of the content of the paragraph remains in my head and I have to reread it and the one before to refresh my mind.

Great.

This repeats a few times before the idea of closing the curtain came to mind. For God's sake Jimin. I clear my throat in embarrassment, though no one was there to judge, and stood up to close the curtains. He is blue today, not the bright yellow he was yesterday so I have absolutely no interest in him whatsoever.

But then I look up and get lost once again, sucked into his void-like eyes, only snapping out of the trance when he shut the curtains on his side. He disappears behind his grey curtains and I disappear behind my blue ones.

It is Sunday, which means that Mrs Im Hye-Ju should be waking up soon. I glance at the digital clock on my desk. Should have woken up fifteen minutes ago, I correct myself.

I scurry over to her room which was opposite mine, a bit more to the right, and see her sprawled on the bed, limbs tangled in the duvet. Her pillow has fallen to the floor and some parts of the bed sheet was untucked. She looked like roadkill, and the bed, the murder scene.

I brush the thought off.

"Mrs Im Hye-Ju~" I shout in a sing-song voice, placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking her slightly. "It's morning! Time to wake up!"

"Five minutes, Jimin-ah," she mumbles sleepily, curling into a ball.

"It's already 6:20," I lie. Technically it will be 6.20 (its only 5.30) if she continues being like this so it isn't completely a lie, or so I tell myself.

"Eh?!" She springs up like a jack-in-a-box and falls off the bed in the midst of the panic. I stifle back a laugh before heading downstairs to prepare breakfast.

~~~

"You're such a trouble child," she mutters, rubbing her temples with her thumbs. She's sitting at the table with a cup of green tea. Her favourite tea. "I almost had a heart attack, you know? Who'll take care of you when I die?"

I just laugh.

I catch the toast as it pops out of the toaster and place them on a plate, spreading a bit of butter on each one before carrying them to the table where Mrs Im Hye-Ju was.

"Thank you." She grabs one of the toast. Tears off a small piece to nibble on instead of just biting in. It is a small little quirk of hers that I can't help but smile at. It was adorable and made me feel a bit nostalgic for some reason. "Sorry I couldn't make a proper breakfast."

"It's okay," I say, taking a bite of my toast.

"That just makes me feel worse," she whines.

"What do you want me to say then?"

"It's okay Mrs Im Hye-Ju, saranghaeyo~" she cooes in a baby voice, making a heart with her fingers. I cringe. You're in your late thirties, if you've forgotten, I cry mentally.

"Eat more, talk less. Unless you want to miss morning mass that is." I snap.

That shut her up.

Mrs Im Hye-Ju is my aunt. I've been calling her that ever since forever and she has not called me out on it. She actually seems happier when I call her that instead of 이모.