Head above the water

17

(Just my personality in general.)

I walked into the school feeling like death and exhaustion had a love child, and I was her. I knew there were bags under my eyes, and even though I had tried very hard to tame my normally straight hair it still managed to look unkempt. I was wearing a giant hoodie and leggings to maximize comfort, and I had on no makeup because I didn't feel like going through the process just to have it ruined when I inevitably fell asleep in class. A few people glanced at me and then quickly looked away like they were scared. I guess I did look a bit scary today.

When I got to my locker I slid my backpack off of my shoulders and let it thud to the ground. I was too tired to set it down gently. I spun the dial and opened the vented metal door to be greeted with a horrific smell. It was like someone had mixed garlic and anchovies together and let them rot for a week in the hot sun. I took out the blank piece of paper that I always made sure to leave on top of my important books and threw it away, the moldy dog food of a dumb prank going with it. I had no energy to be disgusted or mad.

I kneeled down on the floor to get my perfume out of my bag. It might not help much, but it's better than what ever horrible smell was coming from my locker now. It didn't surprise me that someone had put that in my locker. After all, I did reject Trent yesterday. I already knew he was going to be worse to me because of that.

While I was rummaging through my bag a pair of feet approached me. The feet were attached to, I'll say it, rather muscular legs. And the legs were attached to a confused looking Jimin. My heart fluttered a bit because of his adorable face, and I had to restrain a blush remembering how much I had depended on him in my dream last night and the way he had helped me the day before.

"You okay?" Jimin asked.

"I'm good," I replied tiredly.

"You don't look so good. You look like death," he deadpanned.

"Thanks," I drew out the word, "Glad I know how you really feel about my appearance."

"You know that's not true," He huffed out, slightly annoyed at me, " You look like you might be sick."

"I just didn't get a lot of sleep," I sighed.

"Come on," he said, holding out his hand to me.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

Instead of answering me he grabbed my hand and hoisted me to my feet. He nudged my locker closed with his shoulder as he pulled me down the hall in the opposite direction of our class.

"Jimin, we have math and then Literature. Where are you taking me?" I demanded to know.

"Shh, you'll enjoy being there, okay? I found it not too long ago, but it seems like people don't really go there," he gave me as much of an explanation as he was willing to.

Most people would have yanked their hand away and walked back to their class, but I trusted Jimin to not murder me. I went with him through random twists and turns, down dimly lit school hallways, and past the closed doors of classes already in session. Eventually we reached a small hallway set off from a side hall. The place was dusty, and seemed to be forgotten by not only the janitor and the students but time as well. An old wooden door at the end of the hall led into a strange room with hospital beds, the sheets tightly folded and crisp, though a little dusty.

"You brought me to the old infirmary?" I asked, confused as to how he'd found it or why he liked it here.

The infirmary was a remnant from the days when the closest hospital was an hour away in a different town, and the school served as almost everything. The rest of the school had been renovated over time, gradually becoming more modern, but the infirmary had been left alone just as it had been abandoned the day the town hospital opened. It was stuck fifty years in the past, and it was absolutely beautiful.

It was obvious that someone had taken the initiative to begin cleaning the room. The shelves on the far right corner of the room were dust free, and the knickknacks were all in order. One of the beds had been dusted off, and there were a few scattered sheets of paper along with a notebook and a few different pens and pencils on the dark brown surface of the table meant to set food on for the patient in the bed. It smelled like honey in here.

"This is my new hideout," Jimin explained to me finally, "I come here when I need to think."

Still holding my hand, Jimin guided me to the dust free bed and pulled me to sit beside him. The silence in the room stretched, but it was not an uncomfortable silence. The air was still but breathable. The room seemed to welcome us with open arms, begging to be used, pleading for us to be alive and at home within the confines of its four slightly yellowing walls. The room was like a grandmother, making you warm and feeding you until you were full to bursting with all the good things she could find. The room filled us with comfort and solace and peace and happiness.

"You should take a nap," Jimin whispered, recognizing that the silence was a quality of the room itself and must not be disturbed.

"What will you do if I take a nap?" I questioned just as quietly.

"I'll be here. I have something that I'm working on that I want to get done."

"But that will be weird, won't it? What are you working on?" My voice was timid.

"It won't be weird, and I'm trying to write a song. I like to sing, and sometimes I try to write, too. I want to say something meaningful when I sing," I could see the hope in his eyes as he talked about his music. It seemed like I might be looking at an angle, the way his whole being lit up.

"Can you sing to me?" I asked through a yawn.

He looked shy. I thought he was going to refuse me, but instead he pulled me back to rest myself partially on the bed, using his chest as a pillow of sorts.

"What do you want to hear?" He asked me.

"Whatever you want to sing," I replied, snuggling further into his side without noticing it.

He began with a hum, soft, like the petals of a newly bloomed flower. The hum grew into words that I didn't recognize, probably because they were in a different language, but the words were beautiful. They seemed to rise and fall and curl and flip and grasp and slip in just the right way from his mouth that the quality of his voice was magnified tenfold. And his voice, oh, his voice. It was breathtaking. It was soft and light and high and sweet. It reminded me of that first really cold day after the heat of summer when you could finally take in a full breath once more.

He lulled me into a hazy state somewhere between sleep and consciousness with his voice, but before I went under I had to mutter out a sleepy joke.

"Be careful, if you keep being this cute to me I'll start thinking you like me," I joked with a sleepy giggle.

As I drifted off into a peaceful oblivion I could have sworn he whispered, "Maybe I do."

--------------
How was it? Did this feed you enough? If you can't tell I've been in a really creative mood recently, and my writing has been going exceptionally smoothly. I'm hoping to get more chapters up as soon as possible, but for now I hope you guys enjoyed this!

Much love to my fellow Yoongi Bias girls out there. We never get fed like this lol.

Love Ya Always,
-Haleigh.