Blaming Black Cat // Min Yoongi

Blame 3 - Moving

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Blame 3

 The next day I avoid Yoongi as much as I can. Unfortunately, avoiding him is hard when you have practically every class with him. At least my best friend—and only friend—Sunny is here to distract me.

In calculus class, Mrs. Lee tries to explain derivatives on the whiteboard. My pen scribbles furiously across the page, while my mind tries desperately to understand the concept. Sunny, who sits one seat behind me, taps my shoulder.

I spin around. "You've been acting really weird today. Are you okay?"

"What? Uh, yeah." I shrug. "Just had a rough day yesterday." Sunny's doe-like eyes widen. "Oh! That's right. You're moving out today. That must be exhausting."

True, but not the real reason why I was exhausted, but I am glad for the way out. "Yeah," I chuckle nervously. "I was up late last night packing." Again, true, but not the reason why I was tired.

A worried look scrunches up Sunny's goddess-like features. "Do you want me to come over tonight and help you?"

I wave my hand. Sunny was the sweetest and prettiest person I knew, but wherever she went, there were at least 5 boys in tow. "Nah, it's fine. I'm almost done anyway."

"You sure?"

I nod. "I'm sure. Thanks, Sunny."

"Anything for my bud." She poked my cheek. Bud is my nickname. Back in 2nd grade, she said that she was the "Sunny" and I was the "bud" she shone on. And the name stuck ever since.

"You're the best," I say.

A sleek black high heel clicks into the corner of my vision. My stomach drops to the heels of my feet. I know what's coming next. I've seen it happen to a thousand kids before me. Mrs. Lee looms over us. "How many times do I have to remind you all? No talking in class. I'll see you two after class." The class snickers at our misfortune. 

Sunny shoots me a look of annoyance. "I saw that, Miss. Kang," Mrs. Lee retorts. I stifle a giggle as Sunny's cheeks turn as bright as her name.

The final bell rings. I shoulder my backpack and wave to Mr. Park on my way out. I sigh. A lecture from Mrs. Lee, the cafeteria ran out of cookies, and worst of all, the library was closed, all in one day. Could life get any worse?

After a long bus ride and a stop at the local Subway, I arrive in front of my apartment. I slide my key into the slot and enter the passcode. The lock clicks open. This might be the last time I do this, I think. I flick the lights on. My apartment's a mess, ready for my move. Boxes full of my junk lay strewn across the floor. I shrug my backpack off. It lands on a box full of dresses. I cross over to small kitchen and pour myself a glass of water. I sink into a stool. My back curves into a "c" shape. The water feels cool on my tongue. I let a mouthful sit in my mouth until it gets warm, and then I swallow it. The quiet hum of the refrigerator calms my mind. A pleasant night breeze from the open window brushes my face.

I glance down at the boxes at my feet. I'd finished packing yesterday—all while thinking about the Yoongi Incident—so all that was left was to haul them to my new place.

I check the time on my phone. It was about time for the moving company I had scheduled to come by to show up. At that moment, the doorbell echoes through my apartment.

"Coming!" I yell.

I open the door for a burly middle aged man and direct him to all the boxes I want sent over. I drop off my apartment keys and say my goodbyes to my neighbors. The moving man and I eventually manage to load up all the boxes into his truck and drive over to my new place. There wasn't a really big reason for my move. A few weeks ago, I just happened to stumble across a place cheaper, nicer and closer to school than where I was currently (well, formally now) living in. And I thought a little change would be good for me. The only drawback was I'd be sharing the kitchen and living space with another person. But hopefully, that wouldn't be too much of a problem.

The moving man helps me unload my stuff into my new building. Cheery Blossom Boulevard, room 63. I survey my new home. A quaint little apartment in a good neighborhood with several convenient stores just around the corner. I smile. I think I'm going to like this place. After several trips back and forth, I bring the last batch of boxes into the to-be living room. My helper leaves with a wave and a nod.

I try to set the boxes down and realize that I can't. My arms are wrapped around the bottom box in a way that if I try to set them down, they'll all fall over. I'm turning around when I hear the door open. My heart quickens. Is that my roommate?

"Oh, good. You're here. Can you help me?" I giggle sheepishly. "This isn't how I imagine our first meeting to be."

A chuckle sounds from behind the pile of boxes in my hands. "It's alright. Those boxes must be heavy. Let me grab them for you."

I furrow my brow. His voice sounds familiar. It tugs at the back of my mind. My new roommate takes the top two boxes off my hands, giving me a good look at his face. I yelp in shook.

"What are you doing here? Why are you in my apartment?" I scream.

Min Yoongi stares back at me, equally as flabbergasted. "What do you mean your apartment? I live here."