My Light, My Jimin

Chapter 23: Art

YOONGI

I'm driving him from the dorms to my home. I considered waiting until next weekend, but decided against it, not wanting to waste any more time than we already have. Besides, trying to stay away from him has proven difficult over the few days.

I refocus my attention on Jimin. The shirt and dress pants I bought look irresistible on him, like he was made for those clothes. He doesn't have his backpack, which is different than what I'm used to, but without the added weight, he seems to sit straighter, less tense.

We pull into the apartment parking lot and I slide from the car, walking around to open the passenger door. I reach my hand out, and he places his palm in mine. A position so delicate that in the dark, we are not seen at all.

"Glad to see chivalry isn't dead just yet," he says. His eyes glance around us. "Is this it?"

I nod. "The inside is much more appealing, trust me."

My hand rests on his lower back, unable to keep my hands to myself, and I guide him toward the lobby, past the other guests checking in, where at the elevator we ride together in silence. I don't remember the last time I've brought another living soul to where I live, but I want him to feel special, different. Which he is.

"This is your place?" he asks.

Nodding, I unlock the door and follow behind him, the feel of his shirt underneath my hand. "It is."

He looks around the living room, the white and black contrasting colors catching his eyes like a kaleidoscope. The floors are clean, swept, and every surface I could reach has been dusted. Watching him take it all in makes my stomach tighten.

"It's beautiful," he smiles. He finds the balcony and looks back to me for permission. When I nod, he opens the door and steps outside. His body leans against the railing as he stares out into the night sky, resembling a painting I wish existed.

I set up dinner on the round coffee table, setting down a Coke and a glass of wine for myself. Another contrast. But it describes us. I set up chairs around the table, a sad excuse for a dining room, but it's better than nothing.

Soon, he joins me and I pull out his chair as he sits. "I hope a birthday dinner of galbi and kimchi is okay?" I ask.

Grabbing his wooden chopsticks, he nods and takes a mouthful of food. He's quiet while he eats, and I notice how his lips purse when he chews, almost in a pout-like shape. It's cute, and it almost costs me a small piece of rib to fall off of my chopsticks.

"It's really nice here," he says after a few moments of silence between us. "Much better than I had originally thought."

I lift the wine to my lips, letting the liquid sit on my tongue before I swallow. "Compared to what?"

He looks away to the carpet. "When you asked me out on a date, I thought that meant going out. You know, like to a restaurant or maybe a movie." He takes a sip of his drink. "That's what I thought the suit and tie was for anyway. I thought we were going somewhere fancy."

"Does that disappoint you?"

"No, not at all." He grins, taking another bite of kimchi. "Besides, I like free food cooked for me."

"Don't get used to it," I smirk. "I don't cater often."

"But you do with me."

"You're an exception."

He smiles, and it lights up his face. A kind of genuine smile I've only seen very few times in my life. Smiles like that cannot be duplicated, no matter how good of an actor one is. Smiles like that have their moments where they blossom and shine like a flower sprouting on a spring day. Here, with me, Jimin recreates that feeling of joy so happy it brings tears to eyes. And that's what makes me smile back, knowing that he's happy and safe with me.