VMIN / INDULGE

37 .

SUPPORTED .

JIMIN .

Precisely a week after Taehyung's celebratory dinner, our dance class was filled with a disparaging hubbub over the news of who the scout had chosen: Yuna Yoo, a delicate girl with brown hair and a presumptuous smile, the perfect fit. Although not much of a loss for me (considering my audition didn't quite meet any form of standard), Jungkook and Hoseok are consumed by a wave of bitterness.

Currently, we're walking back to our respective houses, the golden-pink haze of dawn swarming the sky, a quiet aura satisfying my body. The only noise — aside from Jungkook's complaints — is the obnoxious croak of crickets, beckoning us further down the dusty track.

"Fucking hell, I can't believe after all that effort, I didn't even get the spot." The youngest among us whines.

"Honestly, I put my heart and soul into that performance." Hoseok relates, slightly kicking at the dirt at his feet.

"Yuna Yoo doesn't even deserve it, it's 'cause she's from a fancy family, you know? .. Ugly cow." Jungkook spits.

"I mean she's not exactly ugly, she has a lot of faults, but not being attractive isn't something you can justifiably comment on." I say, hoping to rile him up more.

"She has an ugly heart." Jungkook responds agitatedly, prompting Hoseok to burst into an empty rendition of g.i.r.l's ugly heart.

I can't help but laugh at the brunet's clear disgust toward the older, giving him a light shove in the hopes of preventing him from singing, "this isn't a time for song, it's a time of mourning."

"Mourning? Over what?" Hoseok and I laugh at Jungkook's dramatics.

"The death of my hopes and dreams!" The youngest coos with a theatric flutter of his hands.

"You told me you didn't even want to get that spot." I frown, slightly teasingly.

"So? That doesn't mean I wasn't expecting to get it."

"Cocky bastard," I shake my head disapprovingly, before adding, "anyway, scouts come to the school all the time," in an attempt at consolation, trying to ignore his arrogance.

"Yeah, but that was a huge company," he whines, allowing his bag strap to fall down his arm, "we could've been backup dancers for celebrities and shit, but, no."

"No we couldn't, you prat," Hoseok laughs, shaking his head, "it was a company for ballet productions in theatres."

"Still, that's pretty dank.."

"You don't even like ballet?" The redhead laughs and I do the same, easily seeing how Jungkook's mood is beginning to grow slightly more joyful.

"That's not the point. Point is, they only chose Yuna Yoo because she's from a rich family, it's discrimination!"

"What bullshit is he spouting?" I snort, my laughter fraternising with the eldest's in a soulful assemblage of unaccustomed happiness. Jungkook, eventually, joins us and we become a choir of laughter representing youth, swaying from the heat, our legs batting at the hazy hues of hallucinated gas. It's rather euphoric a feeling — the feeling of dutiful worry and cumbersome quandary flurrying away in glissades of the sun's lustre. Sashays of thickened vocals vibrate through the titivating thrum of soaring heat, which scorches our skin nice and good, burning the soma with thick scurries of pain. Goodness, what a sublime feeling.

Once our state of jubilance fizzles out into a comfortable silence, Hoseok decides to speak, "besides, we've got better things to worry about, what with that new production we're doing in a couple months."

"Oh, thank fuck that Yuna will be gone," Jungkook grins, "Imma get the lead, I can feel it."

At the mention of this production, I feel my heart pound at a more erratic pace. I contemplate things in my mind, debating in my head as to whether I should really go through with what I had been willing to do earlier this day. Of course, my brain forces words from my mouth before I can properly think things through, as customary to my idiotic state of being, "I'm thinking about going for the lead." Both turn to look at me, clearly unconvinced, which I can hardly blame them for, but it still warrants a twang of upset within my nervous system, dismantling the concave of falsified confidence I'd attempted to build up from my imagination's wildest hopes.

"No offence, Jim, but won't you, like, freeze up? Like, you know..." Jungkook trails off, and it's always unusual to see him at a loss for words.

"Taehyung said he wanted to see the performance," I tell them unsteadily, licking my now dry bottom lip and avoiding their gaze, "it'd be embarrassing if he came and I was just in the background."

"Well now it makes sense." They nod in unison.

"God, you're totally whipped for this guy, Jimin." Jungkook snorts, gripping his bag strap.

I poke my tongue out, "shut it, asshat."

"So, wait, you're willing to go front and centre, basically doing the thing your most scared of, just because of him?" Hoseok suddenly questions for establishment.

"I.. yeah, I guess so," I sigh, keeping my eyes trained to the dusty trail, trying to ignore their stares, which are hotter and more agonising than the sun's rays against my back, "I dunno, I can't really explain it...I just feel so supported with Taehyung there."

"I'll pretend I'm not slightly offended due to the fact that's really cute." Jungkook chuckles, Hoseok releasing a noise of agreement.

I still may not be completely certain of how Taehyung feels about me, but I know how I feel about him, and we've been together almost five months. How long should one wait before saying 'I love you'?

//