dark sand crawled in between the fingers of park jimin. the bent to scratch the grainy earth; digging into his short and bitten fingernails. a smile played onto his lips as he breathed in the salty air of the ocean in front of him. he looked to the side, the elder having a worried expression.
"i'll tell my father that i was at the church praying. he'll excuse my tardy instantly." he moved his hand slightly to link them with namjoons.
"it's not that — i just feel like something bad is happening." the frown on his face became reality. jimin sighed, crawling onto the elders lap and caressing his cheeks; he cupped them gently in his hands, giving a soft kiss onto his lips.
"we're fine; i promise," he rolls off, laying flat onto his back, "now will you be my date?"
"date?"
"yeah." he turns his head to look at namjoons curious eyes. "to prom."
⚭
"he asked you to prom?" yoongi says, sipping his drink. it was later at night, almost ten. jimin arrived to school and confronted his father who yelled. students whispered to each other, but he was used to it.
namjoon nodded, tipping his head back as he downed the clear liquor; burning his throat as he swallowed, feeling every movement as it went down. "sometimes i feel: am i doing things right? is god going to punish me? i have a sour feeling in my stomach and i feel like listening. my heart aches."
"maybe you're in love," yoongi smirks. namjoon rolled his eyes. "people can say 'age is nothing but a number' but in your instance age is a life-threatening number. not meaning to scare you, but i mean to remind you: he's seventeen and you're older than him by over a decade. he's in his prime years and you're testing that. i can assume you've already had sex?"
namjoons face went pale. yoongi nodded, sipping at the water. he fixated the tubes at his nose and and flicked the tank that lied next to his feet.
"stop trying to make me out like a rapist or a fucking pedophile. i'm not—they're korean like us. so technically he's already—"
"if you say so," yoongi sighs. "hey listen, i gotta run. hoseok wanted me home by nine and he's probably crying to the police about how weak and ill i am. maybe i'll drop dead on the way to a taxi," he chuckled.
"don't say that—"
"kinda ironic, huh? i have to leave. good luck, namjoon," he smiles, and walks away, air tank following behind. the wheels squeaking could be heard; louder than the music that blasted throughout the bar.
namjoon sighed. he waited twenty minutes before he went out to head to his stay-house. his eyes never left the ground as he moved through people dancing with each other; his thoughts were full of curious questions; strong enough not to notice a smirk that followed a flick of a lighter.
