Chickadee - A Yoonmin Fanfiction

Part 13

•Yoongi•

I stare down at a crumpled piece of drawing paper, trying to fit it into my memory.

On one corner of the page lies the sketch of a small boy, his body wreathed in angel's wings. Scrawled across the middle of the paper is a phone number, with the words 'please forgive me' written tentatively underneath.

This is from Jimin.

I set the paper aside, zipping up the front pocket of my backpack. I don't remember much about our first meeting, except that I was a total jerk to Jimin, and ended up kicking him out of his own studio. Despite my cloudy memory, I can tell that the note was meant to mollify our argument.

I turn back to my school bag, sorting through months of accumulated junk. I can't believe how long it's been since I cleaned this out, and how little of my stuff is worth keeping. Jimin's message was in the front pocket, which I practically never open.

I finish my organizing as quickly as possible, my distraction rendering me extremely sloppy. Still, I manage to hang up a significantly lighter backpack from the one I started with.

Cupping Jimin's drawing in my hands, I take a seat on my dilapidated couch. I try to smooth out his message, but a web of tiny crease marks remain, veining the thin paper.

I run a hand through my hair. I should message him, but it's been so long since he left me his number that it would be awkward to send something now.

What on earth would I say? 'Hello Jimin, this is Yoongi, your random photographer. I have your number, so I guess I'm going to send you this message for no reason, just because I want to talk with you'. Ugh. That would be pathetic.

The truth is though, that I do want to talk with him. It's been four days since our photoshoot, and Jimin has accepted a ride to the coffee shop every morning this week.

Yesterday, I offered to move the time of our rendezvous up to 6pm. Jimin has absolutely refused to order food from the Claire de Lune, making it necessary for him to go home for lunch before class. With the revised meeting hour, we won't have to worry so much about timeframes, giving our sessions a lot more flexibility.

The dancer agreed on a later meeting time, but said he would have to miss our first session due to a previous dinner arrangement. I hate spending the day in my lonely apartment, but I've gotten so used to seeing Jimin at the cafe that it feels strange to go without him.

I groan, pulling up his file on my computer. The pictures from this shoot were incredible, especially after Jimin stopped acting so insecure. I loved flipping through the phases of embarrassment, shyness, doubt, then gradual self acceptance captured over the course of our shoot. Even so, Jimin insisted we delete all his 'bashful' photos. He said they made him look childish, and were therefore forbidden.

I smirk a little, opening the secret file on my desktop where I have saved copies of all the 'illegal' pictures. I don't like to admit it, but I have spent almost all my free time editing them.

I click on an image of Jimin sitting shyly on the floor, cupping his face in his hands. Smiling a little, I adjust the contrast so that his body stands out against the pale pastels of my background. I won't show these to him, or anyone else, but it would be a shame to erase them.

Jimin's number tugs at the corner of my vision, distracting me from my work. I've talked with him enough to know that there is a lot going on in his life. From classes, to practice, to the limited social times filled up by his needy friends, the dancer is incredibly busy. I shouldn't be bothering him with texts...