Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
양초 13 개
''What the hell?'' It was all Jimin said.
It was all he could've said when there, right in front of him, were ten people or so, clapping and singing the song he hadn't heard since he was just 13 years old.
Last time the same humming crawled inside both of his ears was on a cold Friday night. The same night when his mother baked a small cake, made out of rice flour, a pinch of sugar and a couple of eggs because that's the most the poor woman could afford back then. It wasn't easy feeding a family of four. Not really, when the father was drowning in bottles of alcohol almost every other day.
At first, it started on late nights, then it went along with the mid-afternoons and early mornings, until there was no specific time of the day anymore.
Because the old man stopped counting the days he did stay sober, they soon were outnumbered by the ones he didn't. And so, after air-ripping shrieks and muffled cries inside of their home, the man ended up driving, drunk, on his last day, October the 13th.
Generally speaking, Jimin hated birthdays. He never celebrated them.
Because after all these years, it still felt wrong.
Somehow he was sick to his stomach. Not him, not physically, but more mentally to the thought of it all.
''Make a wish.''
June's voice traveled through Jimin's ears, repelling the memories leaving a bitter aftertaste just before he looked down at a small cake with thirteen candles, all sharing the same orange flame, blackening wick and a pooling wax.
After a small blow of the wind, the flames were out.
''Let's go for chimaek!'' Ecstatically, Hoseok jumped up and down, leading everyone into the living room where they all comfortably seated themselves on the floor. Soon enough, they'd be picking out pieces of greasy fried chicken out of thin cardboard boxes. And if they weren't talking, they were moistening the dry throats with the cheapest beer Namjoon and Hoseok could get their hands on.
Not that they cared. They knew that it was normal for students to be economical or thrifty, at least when it comes to alcohol.
That's what Yoongi knew too, Jimin's high school friend with the bow-shaped lips and bleached hair who couldn't stop talking about blacking out while getting drunk on cheap beer, and after waking up he could only speak spanish.
He wasn't funny like Hoseok, but everyone still laughed.
Even Sam, short for Samin, laughed. And she doesn't look like she laughs a lot. Not because she didn't fully understand korean since she was of mixed race, but because she was congenitally missing a bottom front tooth. Rather than it being something that would lift her insecurities even higher, it added quite a charm to her character.
Eddie on the other hand, whose skin had been kissed by the sun, was an exchange student, incredible at both dancing and korean. But without the big circular glasses covering a pair of hazel upturned eyes, the boy would not be able to see a finger in front of his own nose.
And so they all talked, not much longer when Namjoon leaned over to Jimin, not drunk enough to not use honorifics. "Birthday boy, could you get us more beer? Hobi-hyung and I put it either in the fridge or somewhere under the sink.''
''Sure can hyung.'' It was a bad idea to drink while sitting down because when Jimin tried to stand up, his muscles have already given up. ''Or maybe not.''
''I'll get that for you.'' June laughed. ''Be right back.''
With that, she stood up, legs dragging her body to the small kitchen.
It was dark and it smelled of smoke, but her eyes still managed to see just enough to not trip over anything.
First thing she opened is the old fridge that had lost its white color within the years that passed by, only to find nothing edible sitting inside. An energy drink, kimchi and one, almost rotten, red apple. So she closed the fridge, then opened it, as if doing that would cause some food to appear on the almost empty shelves again.
Does this boy even eat?
The cupboards weren't better either, containing what seemed like three years old bag of white rice, few cups of ramen and a packet of crystal clear sugar. Not surprising that the boy looked so worn out lately.
June traveled deeper, opening the cupboard underneath the sink just to find a half-full packet of cat food hidden behind way too many emptied bottles of the same branded alcohol. Anxiety wrapped itself around her spine, turning her muscles into stone but somehow her head jerked to the left, eyes meeting with the cans of beer Namjoon was asking for.
After her hands reached out for the drinks, they toppled down the few empty bottles, then something so small that rolled down the floor along with it.
At first it all seemed to be just empty things Jimin didn't need anymore. One by one, June had put it back regardless, cleaning up the small chaos her hands have made.
When all that was left, were two similar, but not the same looking containers, she turned them around, eyes squinting and reading the imprinted letters carefully. A prescription for Park Jimin. One said Alprazolam, the other was Codeine.
June tossed them with the rotten apple down the bottom of a bin.
