Chickadee - A Yoonmin Fanfiction

Part 15

•Yoongi•

I stand at the doorway to Jimin's bedroom, waiting to be invited in.

The young dancer peers thoughtfully into his closet. Raising himself on tiptoe, he reaches for a stack of boxes collecting dust on the top shelf.

"I'm sorry, but what does this have to do with the punishment?" I ask, leaning my head against the doorframe.

"You'll see in just a second." Jimin says, jumping up and down in an attempt to dislodge the containers.

It's 11:30, and we've been racking our brains for the past half hour, trying to think of an appropriate consequence for whichever of us falls asleep first. So far, every idea that has come to my mind is far to edgy to mention.

Usually, I don't care about that sort of thing. I've lost track of the number of times I have shocked or scandalized someone through my words, but Jimin is different. There is something incredibly attractive in  his naïveté, and I don't have the right to spoil it.

Still, I sometimes if he is really as innocent as I think.

I glance back at Jimin, who is currently trying to lever himself against the closet door, stretching upwards like a desperate child.

"Need help?" I ask.

He turns towards me, chest rising and falling quickly under his shirt. "I'm fine."

I step across the room, nudging Jimin aside without a word. I'm not much taller than him, but my arms are significantly longer, and I take down the boxes with ease. "Where do you want these?" I ask, grunting under their weight.

"Hey, I can do it myself." Jimin yelps, trying to take the top box from me.

I push against his shoulder, forcing the dancer to the side as I step across the room to his bed. "I'm putting them down here if you don't tell me." I threaten, laughing at him a little.

"Fine." Jimin pouts, though I can see him masking a smile. "Leave them there."

I smirk. I don't know why, but I have been teasing the dancer a lot lately. It's so easy to bug Jimin, but the thought of anyone else pestering him like I do makes me angry enough to punch something. I guess I'm a hypocrite that way. 

I step back from the bed, giving Jimin space to open his box. He runs a hand lovingly across the firm cardboard, sliding off the top like an explorer uncovering a secret shrine. "I've had this for almost four years."

I crane my neck, looking over the contents of his coffer with barely masked confusion. It's all junk. Old ticket stubs, a ratty stuffed animal, and a collection of assorted papers. Who would keep any of these things?

Jimin picks through the contents of his box, smiling over the sleeve of an old dance costume.

"What are these?" I ask, coming to stand close beside him. I touch the corner of his hip, drawing his attention to me.

"Oh." Jimin says, glancing at me warmly. "These are things I saved from grade eleven. See?" He points to a year inscribed on the side of the box. 

"So these containers..." I say, glancing over at the matching chests in his closet. "They're like memory boxes?"

"Yeah." Jimin says, pulling out a stack of report cards. "I'm looking for something in specific, for the consequence, but I think it's in the next container. I just thought I would check this one first."

I stare at his collection in amazement. "You've saved like, literally everything from your past."

I don't understand why he would do that. I have spent almost all my college years trying to escape the memories from my childhood. Everything from my old school, every trace of my parents influence, has been buried deep in my mind, or thrown away.

I don't want to remember...but Jimin doesn't want to forget.

I pick up a stack of old cards written in Jimin's handwriting, with the names of different people scrawled across front. "What are these?"

Jimin snatches them back from me. Blushing, he tucks the papers under his duvet. "Those...those don't matter.

"Ah." I say, turning away from him. Suddenly, I am burning with curiosity, but I remind myself to respect his privacy.

"It's not a big deal." Jimin says after a moment, returning his cards to the pile. "I have this thing where I write letters to my closest friends, telling them things I like about them, or thanking them for things they have done for me."

"So then...why are they here?" I ask. "Shouldn't they have them?"

"I'm always too shy to give it to them," Jimin says, colouring a little. "but if I can write my thoughts down, I might remember to tell them sometimes, which is why they are so valuable."

I touch the corner of one letter, wondering if Jimin is even human. "Do you still do that?"

"Yeah." Jimin says, smiling self consciously. "I write them on my phone now though. And sometimes, I work up the courage to send them." He looks up at me, touching the corner of his ear. "I've actually never told anyone about this before."

I feel...honoured. Honoured that Jimin has shared this with me, even though it's obviously personal to him. Honoured that anyone so sweet and considerate would spend his time with someone like me.

Jimin's attention is drawn to the bottom of the box. I watch him reach under a stack of old costumes, exclaiming in triumph. "I found it!"

He pulls out a worn black case, scurrying past me into the living room.

"Hey, come back." I shout, running after him. We throw ourselves down onto the couch, sitting cross legged before each other. The tips of my feet press gently against his, and I wonder how intentional that was on my part.

Jimin sets his case between us, flipping open the lid with a flourish. "Ta da!"

I peek down at an array of brightly coloured crayons. "These are...drawing supplies?"

"Nope. Stage makeup." Jimin beams.

I stare at him blankly.

"It's like face paint." The dancer explains. "Only it takes a bit longer to wash off."

He stares at me expectantly.

"Okay...so?" I say, still not getting it. I thought we were thinking up a good punishment for his dare, not doing each other's lipstick.

"So." Jimin responds, raising his eyebrows slightly. "If someone were to apply this while you were asleep, it would take a while to get off. They could put it anywhere, and if you weren't careful, you could end up walking out of the house with it on."

Dimly, I begin to understand. At first, I think this is the most innocent consequence ever invented by man, but I realize the implications of his wording. You could put it anywhere.

The thing is though, I don't want to put it 'anywhere'. The thought of taking advantage of Jimin like that makes me sick.

Still, it doesn't mean I'm not tempted.

"So, how hard is this to get off, really?" I ask.

Jimin's eyes glitter. "I guess you'll just have to see. Up for the challenge?"

Suddenly, my motivation to stay awake has gone waaaaay down. I'll probably still beat him, but the thought of Jimin using my body as his canvass gives me the shivers. Looking up at the young dancer, I wonder when he got forward enough to propose this sort of idea.

I smirk, I remembering that if I loose, he'll tease me about it for the rest of my life. "Are you up for the challenge?"

Jimin sprawls teasingly across the couch. Closing one eye, he frames my body with his hands. "Hmmmm, I think so."

It's really not an option for me to loose on purpose, but dear god, do I ever want to.