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After Jimin comforted me, we practice for some more hours until it's early in the morning.
Suddenly his phone rings. He turns the music off and heads to the other side of the room to pick his cellphone up.
Looking down at it, I can see him physically gulping. He holds his phone up, a panicked expression on his face.
"It's Yoongi hyung," he mumbles, his eyes wide.
My pupils enlarge and I quickly jog towards him. "I wouldn't answer it," I swiftly shake my head in refusal.
"What? Why not? Do you want me dead?" He panics while moving around.
"No, you'll be safe if you don't answer now. I mean, they may yell at me, but not that much since I'm the youngest," I smirk while shrugging, "but you're most definitely not going to see tomorrow's light."
Jimin slaps the back of my head. "You're not helping, Ahri-ah!" He complains.
"I'm just telling the truth," I state, putting my hands on my hips.
"It's not even my fault! You decided to come here!" Jimin whines, walking around as he decides what to do to not end up with his bones broken.
"True though," I agree, putting a thoughtful hand under my chin.
"What should I do?" His panic seems to grow, "I could move to Mexico and change my name to Jesus Juan Alejandro Flores."
I start to laugh hysterically, falling on the ground. "I'll call you like that from now on," I state between many waves of laughter.
"Or maybe grow a beard and move to the Middle East to call myself Muhammad Omar Yousef Ahmad Ali?" He asks himself, completely ignoring my presence.
Literally dying of laughter, I soon start to choke. "Oh my god, stop. This is too much," I burst out, clutching my aching chest from all the pain because of my laughs.
