Moonchild ∞ pjm

九

Vega spent nearly and hour this morning helping me pick out an outfit. The entire experience was more insulting than helpful. She spent the first thirty minutes sifting through my various drawers of clothes only to spend the next ten minutes looking at the same clothes on the floor. Throughout the entirety of the hour she would insult my clothing and remind me of my 'lack of fashion sense'.

She eventually found something that in her words, disgusted her the least. It wasn't anything special, mostly because nothing I own is truly that special but also because I refused to wear anything gaudy or revealing. Today isn't a date.

At least I don't see today as a date, everyone else seems to. Over the week I told Vega in hopes that I could trust her to keep her mouth shut. But she told Yun who told Yoongi who then told Taehyung who apparently already knew. Needless to say this entire week has been filled with pestering from my three schoolmates.

Now I was stood outside a studio apartment. I looked at my phone and then at the building in front of me making sure the address was correct. When Jimin had texted me the address I expected a quaint little house like Taehyung's, not a city studio. The place seemed to cost as much as my school tuition.

Pulling my sleeves over my hands I pressed the button besides his studio number. I waited a few seconds before loud footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door. The wooden door opened leaving nothing but a metal screen between Jimin and I.

His blonde hair wasn't styled today, falling flat against his skin his forehead was hidden behind a curtain of yellow. He was wearing loose sweatpants with a hoodie that looked far to big for his body. He looked ethereal and it made me envious how effortlessly beautiful he is.

"How's my star doing?" He pushed the metal screen open allowing me to stand beside him in the stairwell. I laughed instead of replying. It was funny how he became a hopeless flirt when it came to me. "I'm making breakfast so I hope you didn't eat anything."

Luckily Vega's hour of insults took up all my breakfast time.

"No I haven't." I tried to smile at him but ended up smiling at the ground. My hands were becoming sweaty in their fists and my knees shook with anticipation. If we didn't start walking soon I think I might collapse in my place.

"Perfect darling. I'll show you up." It was almost too perfect how he brushed his fingers through his hair revealing his forehead for only a second before it disappeared again.

With a gentle smile and a fluent stride Jimin's hand grabbed ahold of mine and we started the incline up the metal stairs. The stairs creaked with every step we took but they held the cities character in them. Walking up the steps reminded me of the old stairwell before the ice cream shop.

The door to his studio was painted a glossy jet black, if you stood where the hallway light shined you could see a blurry reflection of yourself. 7940 were the golden, metal numbers glued above the small peephole. The entire studio building screamed entrepreneur and class. 

When the door was opened I was shocked at the lack of fancy chandeliers and velvet stairs. Instead there were cement floors with a long spiral staircase up a loft. In a far corner there was a section of hardwood flooring partially surrounded by mirrors and in the other was a small kitchen.

"Make yourself comfortable, you can look around if you'd like. I'll be right back with food." He gave my hand a gentle squeeze before walking away to the open kitchen.

The place was styled like Jimin, everywhere I looked I saw his personality displayed. Everything was minimalistic with the occasional shiny silver object, the studio was clean and yet had a comfortable organized mess to it. From the neatly folded blankets and fluffed pillows to the toppled over piles of books, magazines, and records the entire place was filled with opposites.