dawn. (yoonmin)

chapter 1

Pastel blue. A lovey color, don't you think? So soft and beautiful. But when you mix a little black in, it becomes a stormy gray. Still beautiful, but just not quite the same.

•••

"Oh no."

My mom has been banging on the bathroom door for over five minutes. With my head under the water, and my music blasting, I didn't even hear her.

My music wasn't anything harsh, you see. I mostly listen to soft stuff; i'm not really cut out for "rock and roll."

I guess what I need in my life is rock and roll.

"Jimin-ah? Are you okay? I cant hear you."

"Yes, I'm fine."

I begrudgingly pull myself out of the bath water and grab a towel.

"What did you need?"

"Ah there's a kid coming, someone about your age. His name is Min Yoongi. I wanted you to help him move in."

"Move in?!" I choked.

"Yes, didn't I tell you? His mother is a friend of mine and asked if he could stay her for a little way. Just to give him a... change of pace."

I nod before realizing she can't see me.

"Okay mom."

I dress quickly. I don't know this boy so I don't feel like I need to impress him. Throwing on a pastel blue sweater and ripped black jeans, I open the door and proceed downstairs.

Shit. I should've dressed better.

In front of me is a boy my height. Thank god, as everything else about him is way too intimidating. He's clad in a leather jacket, tattoos barely peeking out beneath the sleeves. His ears are covered in a multitude of piercings, include ones on his nose and lip. His hair is a shock of mint, brighter than I think is healthy for his scalp. But what surprises me most is his eyes. They aren't big and soft like mine, or more like, as my mom likes to describe mine. They're sharp, angular, and dark. His stare is so piercing I can't make eye contact for more than a few seconds.

"Hi Yoongi-nim." I mumble out weakly. "My name is Park Jimin. I think I'm supposed to help you move in?"

"I guess so." He says.

I'm shocked, his voice is deeper and raspier than I would've assumed. We begin walking to the van.

"Oh by the way," he throws a glance over his shoulder, "no need to be that formal. Call me hyung."

•••

Who knew carrying boxes could be so heavy. I have leg muscles from dance, of course, but upper body wise I'm not exactly the strongest.

After lugging the last box down the stairs, my arms finally give out and all the contents spill over the floor. Shoot.

As I scoop the things back into the box, one particular item catches my eye. It's a worn leather journal. Scratched into the front is, "Yoongi's songbook. Keep the fuck out."

Aggressive much?

I've never been good at listening to rules so I open the book to the last page used. It reads "Serendipity."

All of this isn't just a coincidence
Just just my own feeling
The whole universe is different from yesterday
Just just from your happiness

When you call me
I am your flower
Like I've been waiting for it
We bloomed dazzlingly
It is almost like the destiny of the universe
It is just how it is
You know I know
You are me, and I am you

It's... beautiful.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing."

I whip around.

"S-Sorry Yoongi. I didn't mean to. It's just that-"

"What do you mean you 'didn't mean to'?" He growls, snatching the journal out of my hand. "Don't you ever fucking touch this again."

I nod meekly before running out of the room.

•••

I've been staring at my ceiling for 3 hours. 3. Dang. Hours. I've been to scared to leave my room. Yoongi sounded mad. No, he sounded pissed. I shouldn't have read it. But still, those lyrics have been shuffling around my head for the past few hours. They were so... beautiful.

"Jimin? Honey, dinner's ready."

I walk downstairs, my mind completely consumed by the words. The lyrics seem to be written for someone. It's poetry, complex yet with a certain simplicity about it. I'm so concentrated on my own thoughts that I don't notice when I bump into Yoongi.

"Sorry hyung."

He doesn't say anything and turns around to the dining table. My aroma of noodles wraps around me like a blanket.

"Ahh hello boys. Take a seat."

We do, sitting opposite one another at the tiny table. It's silent for a while before mom breaks it.

"So Yoongi, have you spoken to your father yet?"

He slams his fork into the table.

"Don't ask me about him!"

"Yoongi sweetie, your mom wanted-"

"My mom doesn't get a fucking say! I don't give a damn what she wants. They can go to hell."

He leaves the table and goes to his room. The door slams and both mom and I look at each other. She giggles nervously before picking up the finished plates and proceeding to the kitchen. When she comes out again she asks,

"Jimin, can you talk to him. Just make sure he's okay."

God no. I don't want to be anywhere near him if he acts like that. But nonetheless, I grit my teeth and nod with a fake smile.

Taking a deep breath I open the door. Yoongi is learning over his desk, furiously scribbling in his songbook. When he hears me he turns around.

"What the fuck do you want Jimin?"

I cant see his eyes from here, and honestly, it makes talking to him a hell of a lot easier. I'm so angry, I begin swearing.

"What the fuck do I want? What the fuck is wrong with you. Don't do that shit to my mom ever again. Next time you do I'll throw your stuff out of the house and kick you right out with it."

He stares for a few seconds before smiling. Needless to say... I was not prepared. His whole aura is harsh, yet his smile is so... cute? It's gummy and his intimidating eyes close, making him seem softer, almost.

"Hey Jimin."

"Yeah?"

"I like your hair. The pink suits you."

"Thanks." I blush. Which I really hope he can't see in this dark room.

"It matches your cheeks."

Well crap, he can see it.

"Fuck off."