VMIN / INDULGE

12 .

TOUCHY SUBJECTS .

JIMIN .

Baggy materials cling to the slim frame of Kim Taehyung, sparking an infusion of cuteness and coaxing away the small exudes of fear that previously inundated me. He waves at me with one of his pink sweater paws, an iridescent smile breaking out across his face.

"My saviour hast arrived!" He proclaims dramatically, "please, good sir, do bless this nimble household with your woeful presence."

I can't suppress a chuckle at his  abnormal behaviour, finding it bizarrely alluring.

Grinning, Taehyung steps to the side and I hesitantly set foot into the house. It's of a decent size, with a grand hallway and palatial spiral stairs in the centre.

He leads me into the living room which is decorated to perfection: plush configurations of deep velvet act as settee's, with opulent glimmers of violet from neon lights trailing over them. Drapes hang from the windows and an old fashioned telly rests upon a table to the side - antenna and all.

"Woo.." The syllable seeps through my lips, my eyes locked upon the resplendent features of the room.

He smiles, "you look like a kid on Christmas morning." He states between giggles.

I mirror his grin, turning to face him properly, "I didn't expect it to be so...classy."

"Why? I'm classy."

"Oh, my apologies," With a roll of my eyes, I take in every aspect of the impeccably designed space, "did your friend choose this?"

"No, I did." Taehyung slumps onto one of the sofa's, pulling his cardigan further 'round himself.

I don't believe him at first, but then I recall his unique fashion sense and personal style and things start to make sense. In fact, the more I think about it, the class of the room truly does match Taehyung.

"You're really talented."

"You think?"

"Definitely, you have such appeal.." quickly, I clear my throat, feeling a need to add something to that, "in your way with fashion... it's really appealing."

A smile, sweet as sugar, takes over his face as he outstretches his arm and grips my hand, pulling me down to the sofa.

The velveteen material makes for an impeccably comfortable place to sit, I must admit. I position myself upright, beside him, once again peering across the room, "so, are you interested in design?"

"I suppose," he, too, sits up and crosses his legs, placing his heaven sculptured fingers in his lap, "I've always liked old fashioned movies and I try to replicate that in what I wear and the rooms I occupy."

Nodding, I can't help but smile at the honey-doused expression tied to his handsome face, his bare face lit up with a sickly juvenility.

"I guess as a kid I wanted to be a designer, but apparently that's not a job for boys, so my parents stopped me from taking any kind of arts course." His prior joy evaporates as he continues on, "I guess that's partially why I quit high school."

"That's awful." Are the only words I can muster, my voice slightly hoarse from my lack of breaths.

"Yeah?" He smiles sadly, distantly, and flickers his eyes over me, "what about you, Park Jimin? Have you always wanted to be a ballerina?"

"Not always," lowly, I look through outcome possibilities within my mind and everything is screaming for me to open up, to tell the being projecting such warmth something true, "I wanted to be a doctor or a teacher, someone important, you know?"

Taehyung smiles again, "someone who helps people?"

Nodding, my face scrunches up, a glower of bad memories crossing through my mind.

"That's quite a change then, how'd you get into dance?"

"My parents wanted to get me into something that would allow me to express myself better," I explain limply, "I got really into photography and art."

Taehyung smiles in relation to my hobbies, seemingly happy we have something in common.

"I...my parents- I.. it-" It's on the tip of the tongue: the perfect words I must speak in order to project my real feelings; to proclaim to Taehyung this intense weight I'm forced to lumber on my shoulders.

But that's as far as words tend to get with me. My mind doesn't push them hard enough to vacate my body, leaving them as empty, sober thoughts against wet muscle.

"It's hard to talk about?" Taehyung presumes, noticing my lousy expression, "how about we just watch a movie? This is supposed to be chill, you shouldn't be so tense."

Tentatively, he goes to mechanically turn the television on from the machine - the model being too old to even have a remote.

Lazily, I sink further into the cushions, my eyes fluttering shut, the sudden urge to cry becoming horrendously prominent.

/

lol i forgot how lacking in detail these parts are. sorry, for that but i've not got much time to edit things atm due to me being on holiday.

expect new stories soon x