Guilty as Charged

12- Unwashed

Several minutes passed by before Jimin started to talk again. "Why do I feel like this painting lacks heart?" I saw him pointing at the piece I was working on at that moment.

"Why are you attacking my art? What do you know about art?" I was fed up with him judging my art. I put all my heart to them, and here he is, judging them like they don't matter.

Quite like me actually.

"You're right, I know not a single thing about art, but... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked." Jimin looked right into me, as if he really wanted to talk about it.

Art is what represents the artist.

I slowly glanced at the painting I was working on. What did this say about me?

That a boy's piano, which earned him some cheering and applause, hit me hard? That I really wanted some acknowledgement?

What's wrong with that?

I looked at all the other finished paintings around my room. Each had a different story, a different feeling, sewn onto them.

And I felt full while working on them. I don't feel that now.

"Heh, look at this one." Jimin's voice snapped me back into reality. He was standing in front of the painting of the green bearded man. His eyes were filled with humor and excitement.

"Having green beard would make you look like a tree. Well, maybe not that bad..." Jimin said while laughing and clapping his hands really loudly.

I just looked at him with bored eyes, waiting for an explanation as to why he thinks having green beard is funny.

"What? Haven't ever seen anyone dye their beard?" I asked him, with an annoyed voice.

"Yeah, but green? That's such an odd color." Jimin touched his hair, probably imagining himself with green hair.

"You're an odd color!" I rolled my eyes at him before continuing to inspect my every recent painting.

Seems like I did this because of earning myself some fame. Only fame. Looking back at my old pieces, I realized I did them whenever I felt like. They accompanied me through lonely days, nights, afternoons...

I did them for me. For expressing myself. For wanting to put myself on canvas.

Not for fame.

I took out my paint brushes and turned the little crowd on the picture into hearts. Hearts that throbbed, hearts that felt, hearts held feelings.

Feelings.

Once a person puts their feelings out for the world to see, it's then when the world feels what that person felt. Yoongi's music represents what he felt when he made it, that's why it became so... beautiful.

You never know what the mind of a person holds. Not unless they solidify the thoughts, so the outside world can see.

Art, all kinds of them, is how a person can express themselves truly without having to go through the pain of talking and 'telling someone everything'. As if the person they are talking to would never feel the same thing.

The boy in my painting had wings. Fully spread wings. Free wings like his free fingers on the piano. Finding the perfect keys that adds on the melody of the boy's heart. Not just a melody, but a melody that is alive.

"I'm booooored." Jimin whined so loudly that I flinched and a stroke of paint ruined the piece again. I just could not believe what had just happened.

"Oh, oops." Jimin just shrugged when I gave him my best angry look. I was ready to put him into jail if he talked again.

So when I started working on fixing his mistake for the second time, he chimed in, "You wanna go out and then hang out?"

I didn't even think about the next thing that I did. I splashed my paint water all over him. And I did not regret ruining his white Chanel shirt at all. I was finally happy about approving of what I do unconsciously for once. 

Jimin was a hot mess, from his feet to his now soaking wet hair. "What was that for?!" This time he snapped at me when he stepped out of his shock few moments later.

"You were being annoying." I tried to calm myself, it felt good ruining everything for Jimin.

"You could've just told me to shut up." Obviously, Jimin got offended for ruining his shirt.

I would be offended too actually.

"Telling someone to shut up is too simple. I wanted to cliché things up a bit." I shrugged because I didn't know what else to do.

"'Cliché things up a bit' my feet. Give me a shirt!"

"You don't look all that bad. You don't need a shirt."

"Give. Me. A. Shirt. Taehyung."

For some reason, the glare that he gives me gets me working all the time. So I got out of the art room to get a shirt from my closet, letting Jimin follow me to my room.

Once I got to my room, I threw the first shirt that I found to Jimin. He looked at the shirt like he couldn't believe cheap shirts like this existed.

"Wear it or don't. I don't have expensive shirts to let you wear." And I didn't own indeed, I liked the fact that at least I was being honest.

Jimin just rolled his eyes really big and walked to the bathroom to get changed.

How the fuck did he know the way to my bathroom?

Sometimes he does so many things so perfectly that it's stupid.\

Or he's a creepy stalker. 

When he got out of the bathroom, wearing the obviously over sized shirt, he didn't give me the chance to ask him the question.

"What washing powder do you use?" He asked me a question instead.

"Why?" His question is such a dumb question to ask someone that it got me thinking.

"Because your shirt smells good?"

"Oh, I didn't wash it for weeks."

Now his face became so disgusted that it was the funniest thing that day. It even topped off what Namjoon said about shaving our eyebrows off. I tried my best not to burst out laughing.

"You didn't wear it did you?" Jimin was trying to convince himself that he totally wasn't wearing an unwashed shirt.

"Yeah, I wore it for a week." I actually wore it for five days, but whatever.

"Ew, what?" He looked down at my shirt that he was wearing. "Can I get a washed shirt?"

"What's the magic word?"

"Please." He sounded pretty eager, so I had to play him.

"No, I don't have any washed shirt." I said so before walking out of the room, leaving Jimin alone.

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