Blaming Black Cat // Min Yoongi

Blame 8 - Deal

Blame 8 

I plop onto the couch with a bag of Cheeto Puffs in one hand and a soda in the other. Healthy, I know. But who cares. It's Sunday. Popping a Cheeto into my mouth, I scroll through the Netflix suggestions bar.

I was gradually starting to feel comfortable in this unimaginable situation. After Sunny left, I unpacked my boxes (which Yoongi did not help with at all, that lazy piece of shit). I managed to get my bed moved into my room. It was starting to feel like home.

There was only one problem. My roommate, the forever bitchy Yoongi.

For the life of me, I couldn't even bring myself to tolerate that boy. We even set up house rules:

1. NO going in each other's rooms without an invitation

2. NO bringing friends/partners over without telling the other person (after yesterday's incident, this was a necessity)

3. NO touching the other person's stuff...ESPECIALLY FOOD!

4. TELL no one

But everywhere he went, all he did was complain. The living room is too hot. The kitchen's too cold. My scrambled eggs are too salty (I charge Yoongi $3 per meal). I was about ready to go insane.

The only thing keeping me from losing my sanity was my mornings. Until around 3 in the afternoon, I had the whole house to myself while Yoongi slept. And no amount of noise I made woke him up. Once he was out, he was out until the next day. This was a tried and true fact. The third day living with Yoongi, I accidentally set off the fire alarm and Yoongi didn't stir.

I take a sip of Fanta. This morning was no different.

Except, it wasn't.

Behind me, Yoongi's door opens. I look at the clock. It's only 11:30 AM.

"Why are you—?" The cheeto gets halfway to my mouth before falling to the floor.

"What are you wearing?" I shriek.

"Are you blind or something?" Yoongi retorts.

In front of me, Yoongi is wearing a black with white polka dots button down with matching black suit and pants, but the button down is still open. My eyes unknowingly traces the outlines of his abs. I wonder what they'd feel like, I think.

WHAT? I shake my head. There's nothing attractive about them, I convince myself. They're only muscle that Yoongi must have done a lot of working out to get...An image of Yoongi dripping in sweat and lifting a dumbbell fills my mind.

I can feel a red blush crawl up my neck. My whole face feels on fire. I tear my gaze away. "Just button up your shirt."

Yoongi smirks. "Like what you see?"

I snort. "Who'd like you?"

"I didn't ask if you liked me," he shrugs, finished buttoning his shirt.

I bite my lip in frustration. Cocky bastard.

"Why are you dressed like that?" I wave a hand at his extravagant outfit.

"I'm going on a date with my girlfriend."

My soda suddenly gets stuck in my throat. "Your what?" I sputter.
"My girlfriend. Jealous?"

"No, of course not. I just feel bad for your girlfriend." I stick my tongue out.

How was I supposed to know Yoongi had a girlfriend? I supposed it was partially my fault. A twang of guilt crawled its way into my heart. I barely knew anything about Yoongi. I didn't even try to get to know him at all this past week. Then again, Yoongi didn't either, but he didn't seem like the person to break the ice first.

Yoongi sneers down at me. "You're gonna get fat if you keep couch potatoeing. I've seen a rock move more than you."

Scratch that, I knew enough about Yoongi to know he was a jerk. A hint of anger bubbles in my stomach. Yeah, so I wasn't skinny like a kpop idol, but I was skinny enough for me. "Why do you care?" I shoot back, popping another Cheeto into my mouth.

"No reason. I just feel bad for your boyfriend." Yoongi pauses a moment. "Oh wait, you don't have one."

"I do too have a boyfriend!" I sputter with indignation.

Yoongi pulls out his phone and starts taping away. "Mhm. And you expect me to believe that why?"

"Because—" I'm saved by Yoongi calling someone on his phone.

My mouth closes, and I watch Yoongi's face contort into annoyance and then rage.

"Pick up the goddamn phone!" Yoongi swears into his phone. "Fucking jamless."

I shift uncomfortably, not knowing what to do.

Yoongi stalks back into his room, my imaginary boyfriend forgotten.

A breath of relief escapes my lips. I've always been a bad liar. I couldn't handle the pressure of keeping up a lie. It was not my style. I preferred half-truths.

I settle back down. A new episode of my favorite drama! Score! If I watch this episode, I'll still have about 4 hours to do homework. Perfect! I press play.

"Michyeosso?" The main actress slaps the handsome 2nd love interest across the face.

I gasp. That was unexpected.

The camera zooms in on a single tear rolling down her face. "Wae? WAE? Daedabhae (answer me)."

The love interest embraces the main actress, wrapping his arms lovingly around her body. "Saranghagi ddaemune (because I love you)."

I clutch my chest. 2nd lead syndrome is real.

I'm reaching for my soda when Yoongi emerges from his bedroom. A wad of cash bobs up and down in front of my eyes.

"Will you do me a favor?"

My eyes narrow. I guess nothing in this world was free. "Are you bribing me?"

"$100. Right here, right now."

I chew my lip. Yoongi being indebted to me didn't seem like such a bad thing. "This favor won't cause me any bodily harm, will it?"

"It shouldn't." Not the most reassuring answer, but I'll take what I can get.

"$400." I knew Yoongi was rich, and I wanted to squeeze out as much cash as possible.

"Are you crazy?" he cries. "$200."

I guess even rich people didn't throw out money like trash. "$300 and it's a done deal."

There's a pause. I can practically hear the gears in Yoongi's head as he weighs whether it's worth it.

"Deal." He hurries back into his room and returns with three one hundred dollar bills.

I quickly stuff them into the waistband of my sweatpants. Time to buy more merch! New Seventeen album, here I come.

"Kay, now what do you want? Tutoring? Food?" I say, licking my stained Cheeto fingers.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"