dreamglow

12

Jungkook

November 13, 2018

"Cindy, I am not singing on someone's wedding."

She is absolutely insane. In a good way, of course. Barely two weeks passed since I dodged the festival performance, and she's already sprinkling new options on me. Options I can't run away from, despite the punching fear. If I give in to it one more time, if I ignore the anticipation fizzing under my skin, I will hate myself for the rest of my life. I made her cry once, even if she doesn't know it was my fault. I would do everything to avoid the second time.

"Wedding or a club, then?" she asks, her arms leaning crossed on her chest, as she towers over me, spreading on her couch.

"What club?"

"A bar two streets from here with an open mic night today," she says, making her voice sweet and irresistible atop a quick flutter of her eyelashes. I fight back a smile. It's not the time to be melting over her.

"Open mic night?" I repeat, furrowing my eyebrows. Cindy whips a flier out of her pocket and plops next to me. She leans against my body, no need for personal space, and shoves the announcement in my face.

"You can come in and sing," she says. "For free. Plus, I heard that this club is packed on Fridays. Especially at ten."

"I'm skipping school now and I am supposed to be in a club at ten in the evening. Cindy? You're feeling good?" I touch her forehead, but she pushes my hand away with a chortle.

"You'll have to study with Lucas, I suppose. You said he's stupid but looks like he's helpful." She grins, laying her eyes on me.

"He's both." I sigh, and chuckle. "He also owes me a lot of stuff like this double-date we went with him to." I grab the flier and scan it, like I'm not decided already.

"So? Open mic night? You'll sing, I'll drink, everyone will be glad, huh?" She pats my chest and rests her chin on my shoulder. I turn to glance at her; the close proximity to her pretty smile and big, twinkling eyes makes me look away like I touched fire. I have been like that since this bizarre argument with Kian. He's acting like nothing happened, and I'm not digging deeper, but I'm more of a mess than I should be around her.

"Open mic night." I say. If I can make her happy like this, I will go and sing like I've been doing this forever.

"What are you going to sing?" She smiles, jumping onto her feet when the oven calls her to take a batch of triple chocolate cookies out.

"It's gonna be a surprise."
"Please, don't sing "Cindy". It's only my song!" She exclaims over the noise the hot tray is making as she pulls it out.

I chuckle, eyes on the flier again. "I wouldn't dare."

She cherishes that song. And it's fucking adorable. So adorable I already wrote three more, but she hasn't seen them yet. I'm waiting for a good occasion to show her. It's more uplifting to write songs about her than anything I've ever found to be effective on my mood improvement – boxing, eating, singing, listening to music. Because I think about her smile as I write them, and how she reacted to "Cindy", and I want to do this forever.

With a trained excuse of 'studying with Lucas' made official to my mother, we enter the club a few minutes before ten. They don't even check our IDs, and I don't want to know how sketchy this place is. I'm just here to sing.