The Seven Passengers (BTSxTitanic)

Chapter 5: Jimin

I feel like I'm being watched again.

No, it's just a new place. I'm not being followed. I didn't hear anyone call my name. I'm fine. 

I take it in, the space, if you can call it that. It's not that different from the sardine-sized apartment Taehyung and I share, but it's new. The cabin is built in an L-shape, with a small bathroom and a wooden bunk bed tucked away in the corner. 

Taehyung makes himself right at home, hopping on the top bunk and flinging his shoes off. I decide to make myself useful and start unpacking my suitcase. I lay out the silk shirt for tonight: long-sleeved black with white stripes. Elegant enough for tonight, I hope.

"So, are you going to wear anything else with it?" Taehyung says right above my head. His closeness doesn't bother me as much as it did when we first met. He would sit and watch me practice singing for hours, always so quiet. I wondered if he was mental, but he's just... free-spirited. "I have something that would go great with that!"

Taehyung rolls on the bed to his suitcase and swiftly pulls a black necklace out, presenting it to me in a delicate hand. I bite the urge to laugh. I feel like a woman being given a present from my lover. This too concerned me when I first met Taehyung. His obsession with jewelry and fashion was, to delicately put it, feminine. Though he did have good taste, and soon enough I enjoyed wearing them myself, of course tucking the necklaces under my shirts.

I accept the necklace and try it on. Taehyung whistles. "Now you'll definitely impress them!"

"I sure hope so. They all seemed surprised when I introduced myself as the lead singer."

"Forget what they think! You'll shatter their wine glasses. If not with your voice, then with your bare hands!"

I roll my eyes, but thank him again. Before I can practice again to get my pitch just right and try to add some higher notes, Taehyung quickly pushes me outside and orders me to spend at least fifteen minutes getting some fresh air. 

I try to push back, but forget how strong Taehyung can be.

I turn and head upstairs to the deck. The wind shifts and blows steadily, moving strands of hair into my mouth. It's quiet on the deck, only littered with some couples enjoying the beautiful sunset. My feet are hypnotized and only stop once my whole view is nothing but shining pink and orange colors. The cerulean sea below glitters like diamonds.

My vision is then obstructed by a notebook flying past my eyes, so close that my eyeball could have gotten a paper cut. It falls and slides on the freshly waxed floor like a trained ice dancer to the edge of the railing. It sits on the very edge, an inch close to falling into the ocean.

The next thing I see is a short man running after it. His dark hair bops in the wind as he scrambles after the notebook in a panic.

I lunge for the notebook. It starts tilting and a wave crashes against the side of the boat, rocking it just enough for the thin notebook to lose balance. Pressing my face into the floor, I stretch my arm as far as I can.

I sit up and hold the notebook, catching my breath in short pants when the man runs up to me.

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaims. "I can't believe you caught it! I thought all my work was gone. Let me help you up." The man extends his hand toward me. I take it. When I'm on my feet again, I realize we are almost the exact same height. Then I notice he's looking everywhere but at me. 

I return the notebook and look down at his hands. They're longer than mine, with veins running down like roots of a tree. I try to hide my small baby hands. He doesn't need to see them. "What kind of work do you do?" I ask.

"Oh, I'm a...musician of sorts," he tilts his head side to side. His voice is soft and low, I have to strain my ears to listen past the wind. "Anyway, I should be heading inside if I want to get paid tonight."

Realization hits me. "Oh! You're the pianist! You must be Min Yoongi."

The man flinches. I wonder if I'm mistaken when he nods slowly. "That's me."

Odd, but not the oddest character I've ever met. He looks about my age, maybe a bit older from the dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn't gotten any sleep in centuries. Perhaps he and I do have something in common. "I'm the lead singer, Park Jimin." 

Yoongi hesitates, then steps closer. "Yes, you're quite popular where I'm from. It will be nice to play with someone as famous as you." 

Famous. My stomach aches. 

"This will be my first time being in front of---well, fancy guests," I say with a small laugh. Yoongi seems to buy it and doesn't question anything. He shouldn't need to; I've been perfecting my poker face ever since I bought tickets for this ship. 

I watch a soft smile escape Yoongi's lips. "I think you'll be okay." His eyes dart to the floor, then back to me. I involuntarily smile. It feels like I'm the one trying to convince him that everything's fine, that I'm not a threat. 

Ironic. Considering what I've been through, it should be the other way.

"Dinner is served," someone says. A waiter, outside the crystal dining room. He steps aside as guests make their way inside. Most women wear evening gowns with hats that either cling to their hairlines or fall off with every breath of wind. As for the gentlemen, most wear black and white tuxedos, with extra jacket pockets for sneaking in cigars. 

"We should go get ready," Yoongi says. "I'll be there in a few minutes, I just have to find Namjoon to make sure he hasn't blinded anyone taking those pictures of his."

I chuckle and give Yoongi a nod before turning to leave. As I walk back to the cabin to change, I can't help but replay our conversation word for word. I've never been lucky with having friendly pianists accompany me. Usually, they are looking for something that's a bit more than friendship. Still, I prefer this to home. 

It's a whole lot safer.