song inspiration

Jimin washes up slowly. It’s one p.m., and she’s missed another day of classes. The sky is covered with white clouds and the sky broods grey. It’s a rainy day today and Jimin didn’t want to leave bed. She didn’t want to wake up. Her head throbs from oversleeping and dehydration. She pads out to the kitchen quietly and there's a note on the dinner table.

Sweep and mop the house, love you :)

Her mother writes in a messy scrawl in a rush to head to work early. Jimin leaves the note on the table and opens the fridge, preparing herself a sandwich before getting to work. When she’s in the middle of mopping, she hears the phone ringing and she doesn’t realise it’s already three in the afternoon. She rests the mop head in the bucket as the stick balances against her shoulder.

“Hey.” Jimin greets her hoarsely, since she hasn’t spoken since she woke up.

“ Hey!” Minjeong’s static voice greets her. She can hear the rain on the other end. “Missed you today.”

“I missed you too.” Jimin smiles softly.

“ Are you sick?” Minjeong asks.

“Yeah, just a bit unwell. It’s the weather.” Jimin chuckles a lie. But Minjeong’s always known her too well. 

“Are you sure? You’ve been unwell for a while.” Jimin says.

“I’m trying,” Jimin says softly.

“I know.” Minjeong answers. “You’re doing well. Can I come see you?”

“It’s raining,” Jimin says.

“Please?”

Jimin settles against Minjeong’s chest on her old couch in her living room, which faces the window. Her apartment is small and everything is within reach, but it’s enough for two—just her and her mother. Minjeong’s tired from school and she smells like the outside, but Jimin doesn’t mind it. They face the window and watch as the rain pelts the ground in an erratic fashion.

“You can always talk to me, you know?” Minjeong says, wrapping her arm around Jimin protectively. 

“What’s there to talk about if I always say the same thing? I feel the same things.” Jimin sighs. “I say something and I do the opposite. A teacher called it self-sabotage.”

“They spoke to you?” Minjeong asks.

“They always do.” Jimin hums.

“Will you, though? Will you come back, Ji?” Minjeong asks.

“I have to.” Do I want to? Jimin isn’t sure. 

Minjeong goes home before her mother returns and Jimin eats a cold dinner at night with her mother in the other room, sleeping.

Jimin’s body walks through the walls of the school, feeling as if she’s floating down an endless river of despair.

“Look who finally wanted to show up!” 

They’re all looking at her wrong and she wants to hold Minjeong’s hand, but Minjeong is talking to someone else and she can’t force her out of the conversation. Her hands are clammy and tight around the small toy in her hand that Minjeong got her from a gacha machine. It’s still running and everyone is indoors and it’s too much for her. The nose, the warmth, the scornful eyes—she wants to be somewhere quiet. Somewhere quiet and enclosed.

She paces up and down the halls, trying to escape but she only comes across the same thing in growing multitudes. 

“Jimin?” 

She looks up and Minjeong’s in front of her, eyes full of worry. Jimin can’t smile if she tries to.

“What’s wrong?” Minjeong touches her shoulder and Jimin could collapse right then and there.

“I–I can’t breathe.” Jimin heaves and Minjeong’s eyes grow with concern.

“Come with me.” And she follows Minjeong. Blindy. Like she always has.

Minjeong pushes her into an empty class room and closes the door. Students aren’t meant to be in classrooms during breaks; it’s out of bounds but she can’t right now—her chest hurts and her eyes burn uncomfortably. It isn’t dark in the room because of the neutral light coming in from the rain-stricken windows. She crumbles to the floor, hands over her eyes, as she tries to steady her breathing.

“Follow me,” Minjeong whispers, breathing in slowly. 

Jimin tries to follow but it’s too hard. It’s too much and it’s too overwhelming.

“I-I can’t,” Jimin says, almost sounding like she has asthma. For an athletic kid like her, it’s strange to breakdown like this.

“Okay, okay. It’s okay.” Minjeong is closer.

Minjeong sits in front of her, arms around Jimin in an embrace, but Jimin wants it tighter, and she doesn’t know how to ask for affection.

“Music helps you, right?” Minjeong asks and Jimin nods, tears streaming down her face as she hiccups uncomfortably. “What song were you listening to this morning?” 

Jimin stutters out a response and Minjeong begins to sing it to her softly. Jimin follows along, humming it until the air flows through her nose and to her lungs slower. 

Jimin calms down, slumped against the wall with her head against Minjeong’s shoulder in her gentle embrace.

“You were listening to such a blue song.” Minjeong says it quietly. “Can’t you talk to me?”

“Will you leave?” Jimin asks.

“Jimin.” Minjeong frowns, pulling away to look at Jimin.

Her siblings have moved out years ago and they’re starting their lives. Before that, they parted ways with their father, all her closest friends moved away and they barely spoke. Minjeong was too kind for Jimin to turn away.

“I’m not normal; you know that, right? Can’t you see?” Jimin says and there are still tears running down her cheeks. “I don’t know if I’ll stop feeling like this.”

There are ways to make it stop, but that is a last resort that young Jimin doesn’t want to face.

“I don’t need you to be normal. I just want you to be here.” Minjeong says it painfully. “I want you to be here with us and even when you are, your body is here but your mind isn’t. You’re not here when things are happening and before you know it, the moment’s already passed.”

“I want to be,” Jimin cries. “I want to be here; it’s hard— I’m tired.” 

“I know,” Minjeong says, swallowing her tears and hugging Jimin. “I know you’re tired. We have to try to be better. We’re still kids.”

With Minjeong holding her like that, Jimin wonders if it’s something she could keep. Is it something she’ll have forever? She wants to. 

“Don’t you hate it when I’m like this?” Jimin asks. It's been a recurring thing over the years. It comes and crashes like the rain and Jimin doesn’t know how to stop it or prevent it. 

“I don’t hate any part of you. I love you.” Minjeong’s voice is a gentle caress to Jimin’s cold heart.

It’s easy to love, but not to like. 

But do you like me? Jimin doesn’t ask. 

Jimin doesn’t know how or when it happened, but she guesses it creeped up right under her nose when she was vulnerable on a cold day. She’s in love with Minjeong. Is it love for someone so young? Jimin thinks so. She reads and writes and love always feels like how she does with Minjeong. It is so warm and painful that it brings Jimin to her knees every time she thinks of her best friend. 

Minjeong’s favourite colour recently has been blue, just like hers, and so truly blue—Jimin loves Minjeong and Minjeong alone, and she sings a sad song no one responds to, wanting to be held by the ocean like a whale is. She is 52 Blue, the loneliest whale in the world, wandering the deep sea alone with no one to look for her. 

She hopes Minjeong will still look out for her, even if she harbours these inconsiderate feelings.

With Minjeong, most things are easier, like studying and doing homework. It’s easier when Jimin can’t focus