Black and Blue | ym.

5| Sand

Sundays were always slow. It was almost always the same customers who came every Sunday, each arriving at their usual times. The staff could greet them by name.

Lisa, their every-Sunday-dinner customer, occasionally brought her seven-year-old daughter, Mina. Mina had taken a particular liking to Namjoon, so when she saw him approaching with pen and notepad in hand, she smiled brightly. 

"Joonie!" She jumped out of her seat and ran up to him, a piece of disgruntled paper flapping in her small hands. "Look! I drew you a picture!"

Namjoon squatted down, looking at the paper which she pushed into his hands. It was a crayon drawing of Jin's Family Diner, crooked and wonky, adorable all the same.

"I love it. Thank you, Mina," He smiled at her.

She smiled back brightly and hopped into her seat. Namjoon folded the paper and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans.

"The usual, I presume?"

"Yep. Thanks, Namjoon." Lisa flashed him a grateful smile as she struggled to make Mina sit still.

Namjoon nodded, sending a 'sure thing' over his shoulder as he turned around, heading back to the kitchen.

A head of purple hair popped around the door to the kitchen.

"Lisa and Mina will have their usuals."

"Got it. Tell them it'll be done in five minutes." Jin headed for the walk-in freezer. "Give Mina a coloring page in the meantime." 

Namjoon nodded and popped back out.

Jimin was content. This diner was a safe space, a blockade from the outside world. Within these walls, his father and the horrid house he lived in seemed so far away.

Here, he wasn't 'pathetic', or 'worthless', or 'a disappointment'. Here, he was just 'Jimin'.

So, in a weird way, maybe he got his wish.

That wished was snatched away from him far too quickly.

"Alright, time to lock up." No words could sink Jimin's heart faster than those. 

"What? Already?"

Yoongi walked out of the washing room, hanging his apron on a hook.

"We've been here for eight hours, Jimin." Ruffling his mint hair, Yoongi stretched.

"Oh." The floor by his foot was suddenly interesting.

Yoongi sighed.

"Want me to walk you home?" A pale arm wrapped around Jimin's shoulders, soft eyes bore into his soul.

"No." The reply was a little too quick to rush out of Jimin's lungs. "I mean, no, that's fine, thank you."

Dark eyebrows furrowed over dark eyes. 

"Okay, whatever you say."

A squeeze of Jimin's shoulders was goodbye. Yoongi slipped away, sand between his fingers. Jimin sighed.