Chickadee - A Yoonmin Fanfiction

Part 3

• Yoongi •

Already, I don't know what to think of this boy. He seems preoccupied by his own reflection, constantly catching his own eye in the mirror. I have to admit he has good reason to be vain, but nevertheless, it's distracting.

We are sitting across from each other on the floor, a pile of papers splayed around us like a blizzard. Jimin doesn't seem to understand that serious photography requires a concept, a perfectly planned aesthetic "Can't you just take the pictures?" He mopes, twirling a sheet of paper under his finger.

It's been like this for the past thirty minutes. Every time I try to explain a concept, he cuts me off, begging to get started. The more carefully planned this is, the less work we will have to do in the long run, but Jimin is like bird, flitting between a myriad of subjects and conversation topics. For a moment, I think that he is trying distract himself from the shoot at hand, but that doesn't make sense at all. "In this picture, we should put you against a grey background." I say, "It will help contrast your pose without giving it too much of a stark appearance."

"Ooooh, we should start on that right now. Which pose will we use?" He asks, gesturing at a pile of sketches. Most of them are mine, featuring poses I found online or asked Jimin to demonstrate for me. I haven't bothered to look at his drawings. To be honest, I only asked him to sketch as a means of keeping him distracted, which worked about as well as telling a child to sit still.

"Let's try this one." Jimin says, spreading his legs into the sideways splits. He rests his chin in his hands, eyes raised imploringly.

"You're ridiculous." I say, trying to focus on my work.

Jimin takes a sip out of his water bottle, setting it down beside his knee. He watches me in silence for a few minutes, following my hands with his eyes. Eventually, his voice breaks the stillness. "I like watching you work."

His words catch me off guard. "Why is that?"

"Because you are interesting." Jimin says, his lips spreading into a shy smile. He passes a hand through his hair, and for a moment, we make eye contact. I frown. Ever since I walked into this room, I've been aware of a weird sort of tension between us. I don't know Jimin very well, but there's something about him that pulls my mind away from the task at hand, makes it harder and harder for me to tune out his chatter. This isn't like me at all.

The dancer leans forward, leafing through his drawings. "What do you think about—"

A shrill gasp escapes his lips as his water bottle clunks against the floor, spilling liquid all over my concept art. I let out a volley of curses as Jimin rushes to clean up the mess, feeling anger build up inside me. Everything I had worked on is ruined. The young dancer mops at the floor in desperation, trying to salvage my art. "Don't bother." I say, my voice sharp with exasperation.

"I'm so sorry," Jimin murmurs, his eyes downcast. "We still have my sketches. We can use those, right?"

"No, we can't." I argue. I realize how much time I've wasted already, allowing myself to humour Jimin. I am a loner, and I am better off without him. "Just leave okay? Let me do this on my own."

"I can fix it—"

"No! Leave. You're just annoying me."

His entire body deflating, Jimin scribbles something onto the corner of one of his drawings. I don't look to see what it is, I don't even bother to see where he puts it as he rushes past me, clutching his papers to his chest.

I turn back to my ruined concept art. My pencil marks have begun to fade against the soggy paper. I feel upset, but almost immediately, I realize that I have overreacted. It will take ten, maybe fifteen minutes to redo the spoiled work, no basis for kicking Jimin out like I did.

I turn around to apologize, only to find that Jimin has already gone. I didn't hear him leave.

I turn back to my work, cleaning up the mess of sodden paper. After a few minutes, I am back to the drawing board, quickly recreating the plethora of ruined sketches.

A firm knock sounds at the door. Surprised, I piece together a hurried apology, letting out a soft "come in".

I stand up as the door opens, but it isn't Jimin. It's a girl.

She looks about my age, with average features and a stocky build. "Hi." She says, her face improved by a warm smile.

"Hi?" I say, not sure of why she's here.

"You can call me Ji." She says, extending a small hand "I'm head of the dance academy's promotional department. Jimin dropped by my office to say that you might need help with setup and concept ideas for your shoot and I wanted to get an idea of what props you were looking for."

"Jimin did that?" I ask. "And you just came?" Over the course of my life, I have come to understand that everybody has a specific job description, and something tells me that Ji's isn't 'help the photographer with his first promo'.

"I owe Jimin a favour." She explains, "should we get started?"

I nod.

"Oh, and Jimin said he would leave you alone for today." The woman adds laughingly. "Apparently he was being super burdensome so he thought it best not to come back at all," she catches my stern expression "His words, not mine. We won't need him for today, will we?"

"No," I respond, turning back to my laptop. This is probably good. Jimin will have forgotten about the argument by the time we see each other again, and things can go back to their normal, professional selves.