Strings

15| Yoongi

Yoongi shuffled around his apartment, dodging piles books and scattered papers. The coffee table was covered in sheet music, some weighted down by the, now dead, houseplant Jungkook had bought him near the end of last year. The gifted had since learned about the receivers inability to properly care for high maintenance plants. Over the summer, Jungkook had assembled a desert terrarium that lived on the windowsill in his bedroom.

Right. Stop staring at plants.

Yoongi needed to answer the door. Was Jungkook here? He usually gave Yoongi a heads up when he planned on dropping by. He stuck the pencil behind his ear and rugged the door open.

"Hello?"

"Um, Yoongi! Hi!" Jimin stood in the hall, clutching two shopping bags to his chest.

"Jimin? What-- why-- Do you want to come inside?" Yoongi was finding it difficult to think straight. (Pun intended)

Jimin nodded and stepped lightly, looking carefully about the foreign terrain over the top of the bags. Yoongi followed him inside like a lost puppy.

"Where's your kitchen Yoongi? I'm making you food." Jimin announced.

He directed Jimin to the kitchen, still lost. "Why?"

"Because I want to make sure you eat," Jimin shrugged. "I can't make you sleep, but I can feed you."

He'd been dismissed directly after, banished to the living room to be surrounded by his papers and dead plant. He settled on the piano bench, it's paint chipped and old. He scooted a few papers off the bench, centering himself in front of the keys.

He played what he'd written so far  -- for the project. The pair had not yet begun the official writing of their piece, but Yoongi had few ideas. He absentmindedly looked back at the papers surrounding him. Okay, maybe a bit more than a few.  

Who's counting?

Yoongi rose and began collecting the papers into neat piles, clearing the couch and coffee table. He stowed the unruly stacks inside the hollow in the piano bench. Lastly, he put the potted plant on his counter to be thrown out. Yoongi couldn't see Jimin's head because it was behind a cabinet door.

"Yoongs?" Jimin shouted.

Yoongi winced at the volume, not catching the nickname.

"Right here." He replied lightly.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Jimin's pretty head made an appearance. "Do you have a strainer?"

Yoongi bent and retrieved the desired utensil from its place in a lower cabinet. Jimin, muttering a small 'Oh,' hopped off the stool and took it gratefully. He set it in the sink and strained a lot of rice with it.

"So... What are we having?" Yoongi queried.

It was a dumb question, it really was, and Yoongi knew that. He could see chicken in a skillet, frying in olive oil and seasonings, and Jimin had obviously made rice.

"Did you put too much water in the rice?"

"A bit, yeah." Jimin pouted, "I didn't want it to go all mushy, so I also undercooked it, but that was on purpose."

He started cutting the chicken into small chunks. "I'm going to bake it all together. I'm going to mix it with some 'cream of' soups and plenty of vegetables."

"Oh." Yoongi hadn't thought it would be that complicated. "Can I help?"

"I need a casserole dish..."

"I probably have one. Hold on."

Yoongi found his phone and called Kookie.

"Yeah?" He sounded off.