For as long as Jinju and Kyungsoo could remember, being an idol has always been their dream. To live a life where they did what they loved the most.
But for people like Jinju, being accepted was a rocky road. It meant turning her back on her family...
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If I can be with you
If i can hold your hands
Park Jimin - Just One Day
January 24 2013
I was woken up by the constrictive stretch of the seat belt against my rib cage. The passenger window rolled down and a string of expletives entered the otherwise silent car.
"What happened?"
I was still groggy from my light nap yet I had already registered the familiar surroundings of my street.
"An idiot thought it was alright to hit a red light..." Jimin murmured, already rolling the window back up and turning into our building's parking lot. The familiar sight of it caused a wave of disappointment through me. It had been a wonderful day and I was sad that it was, all too soon, coming to an end.
"Hey... I know it's late and all but would you mind if we don't go home right away?"
He expertly manoeuvred the car through a parking spot, swivelling his torso to face me. The headlights seeping through the window caressed his face until I wondered if I was still sleeping. The moment was all too familiar to me, back when I used to wake up to the sight of Kyungsoo's face under the rays of sun through our curtains.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean like, can't we just hang out for a while before we go home. It's been a while since I hung out with someone" I sheepishly suggested as he scrunched his eyebrows, visibly contemplating the idea.
I had my answer once a smile broke across his face and his engine revved back to life.
-
When we came back to my apartment, two or three hours had passed. He drove aimlessly, taking me to the wonders of Seoul I had yet to admire. I felt my anxiety slowly slipping away and being replaced by an unfamiliar warmth and comfort, merely being in Jimin's presence. I hadn't felt this carefree since Kyungsoo had taken me to explore Busan's scenic views... I missed that feeling.
We entered my home, still in a daze after a fantastic night. He walked to the little island-counter which adjoined the kitchen and leaned against it, wordlessly studying my apartment.
"Make yourself at home" I told him, heading over to the light switch and quickly tidying any mess visible to the eye.
The apartment had seen better days. Two years back, on my first day of leasing it, that blue paint was a smooth unbroken layer and the window edges were a splendid white on top of the new wood. I wasn't proud of it but I didn't have enough money to fuss about real estate. Considering he lived in the same building, I figured he could keep the judgement to a minimum.
