Burning Up (M.YG+ P.JM)

Ch 04| Tissues

Jimin got out of his bed to the sound of the soft knock on his door, which came a little later than yesterday. Not that he cared, or wanted the food he would receive with it, considering that  he hardly found an appetite these days. He opened the door to find out that as usual, there was a trolley in front of his door, but no one accompanying it. If only it was a person, in the place of the trolley, providing him a companion of sorts; Jimin would have been perfectly content.

 Under the veil of translucent white smoke that rose off his feet which were planted onto the floor, he could make out the trace of a nest of wavy black locks, peeking from the top of the couch. He wanted to talk to that person, whoever it was, but decided against it, not wanting to scare them away.

He silently dragged the trolley inside, hissing at the pain that shot up his arms as he did so.

There was a tissue on the side of his food, with fairly messy handwriting on it, and the moment his eyes found that note, they lit up. 

Eomma had kept her promise. And faster than he had expected.

What was amusing to Jimin though, was the fact that the letters on the small square tissue were so messy, especially considering that they were supposed to be the letters of a woman. And his eomma's letters were really beautiful and loopy. He'd assumed all girls wrote pretty letters.

Yes, Jimin had assumed that the person who cooked for him was a girl, seeing that it usually was a girl who did that for him. His mind had glossed over the fact that his mother's had used the terms "he" and "him" to refer to the cook last night, for he had only remembered his mother's promise, and her refusal to hug him, from the entire conversation they had. 

But now, looking at the messy handwriting, Jimin smiled."Maybe she was in a hurry, seeing that she was a little late today," He theorized, and continued to smile at the soft tissue that he held in his hands; the only connection he had to the outside world, apart from his mother.

Being sick truly sucked. He sighed, folding the tissue into a sloppy triangle.

Then he focused on his meal.

Under the cloche, he found a hearty portion of bacon and eggs accompanied by two pieces of toast. The very appearance of such a simple, normal meal made Jimin's already fragile heart warm- in a good way. And while he munched on the comforting taste of his bacon and eggs, he thought of what he should write in reply that wouldn't make her run away.

He took out a piece of paper from the drawer in his little night stand, and a black pen to write the letter to the new girl in the kitchen.

"Dear noona..." He began.

*

Being completely occupied by the sheer excitement of communicating with the mysterious man behind the door of room 23; I had completely forgotten of breakfast. But having eaten three complete meals yesterday, my stomach was still satisfied, and wasn't growling in hunger like it had been yesterday. Instead it was twisting and turning in an uncomfortable manner, the way it did before you get back the test which you were sure that you had aced.

And after an eternity and a half, the door opened, accompanied by the shrill ring of the bell.

I shot up to my feet and quickly ran to the trolley, where I found the emptied plates, and a piece of paper, folded neatly into a small, crisp square.

It would be rude to read it in front of the door, I thought, and pushed the trolley carefully back into the kitchen. I stared at the piece of paper. I should clean the dishes first. I looked at it again.

Cleaning the dishes could wait. 

I opened the piece of paper, unwinding fold after fold... after another fold.