red ribbon : yoonmin

one

"Listen, Jimin, you can't put this off forever. If you don't get something to me by Thursday, I'm gonna have to let you go. It's been months!" An angry voice yelled from the other line.

"Okay, hyung. I promise. I just need to get things settled-"

"I don't have time for things to get settled. Get something to me by Thursday, you hear me? This is your last chance."

The angry voice came to an end when they hit 'end call'. Jimin sat in silence as he thought of something, anything - he just needed to write and get something to his manager, Min Yoongi, by Thursday. He looked around at his surroundings. Jimin was sitting on the edge of his seat that faced his old, wooden desk. He spends most of his days here, thinking. He's aware that he needs ideas and he's aware that he has been procrastinating for so long now. He's even been pushing off his stress, telling himself that he'll deal with everything soon, and then his stress will leave his body.

"I can't think here...it's too messy, too empty...too quiet..." He stood up and pushed his chair in. He grabbed his soft, salmon pink leather jacket and put it over his shoulders, and started walking out of his one bedroom apartment. His dyed peach hair was frizzy and undone and his face was oily and unclean. He hadn't taken care of himself in days. His job is taking over everything - he can't focus on anything anymore.

A bell jingled as Jimin pushed open the glass door that lead to a small coffee shop. The whole room was lit by a long string of dimly illuminating small bulbs. This coffee shop wasn't known by most, but the serene shop gained exhausted customers who needed some caffeine daily. The shop didn't have laptops or computers to record orders on - they have thick notebooks filled with lined paper and pens. Baristas write down every order they recieve and the amount the drink costs, plus any tips that the customer gave if any. In the shop, some booths held couples or students working on their essays, some seniors read newspapers quietly as they sipped steaming hot cups of coffee. Sometimes the beverage was burnt, so people would put double the amount of creams and sugar into their ceramic mugs to mask the bitter taste. Jimin stepped up to the cashier and looked at them in the eye.

"How can I help you, sir?" The barista asked him, pulling out a cup from the stacks of paper cups next to her.

"Can I get a dry cappuccino, please?" Jimin pulled out his small wallet from his jean pocket. He doesn't necessarily need the wallet, as all of his credit cards haven't been paid and he only has $15 in cash left.

"That'll be $1.25," the barista said, writing his order down on a small paper. That would be his receipt. Jimin pulled out one crisp dollar bill and a quarter, then handed it to the woman behind the counter as she smiled sweetly and grasped the money. Gently, she put it into a plastic container labeled 'sales'. She put the cup on the counter and started to prepare his beverage as he stepped out of line and picked the last table open - a table that acted more as a desk that only had one chair next to it. A table for one.

As he stepped closer and closer to the chair with a ripped cushion, something caught his eye. A journal lied silently at the chair's feet. He picked it up gently and brushed it off, and observed it. A red ribbon dangled from the binding, bookmarking a page. He flipped through the whole book, and every single page was blank. He looked around, seeing if anyone was looking for anything. Nobody paid attention to Jimin, so he smiled to himself.

"Sweet," he whispered. "Free journal."

Jimin sat in his uncomfortable chair that faced the desk at his home and grabbed a pen. Before he did anything else, he slid the small green candle closer to him and quickly rubbed a match against a matchbox and lit the candle, providing light to his desk.

He flipped open the journal and started writing carefully.

"No mistakes, Jimin, this is ink, not a pencil..." he told himself.