tapestries covered yoongi's apartment.

a blue one on one wall, black ones with words on another.

ripped and tattered all the same.

but he liked it that way; just like the broken mirror in his bedroom.

when people asked him just why he bothered to keep a broken mirror, he'd always reply, "makes me look the way i feel."

broken.

a broken mind, and a broken heart; a beautiful mess named min yoongi.

***

the cafe at which yoongi worked at was small.

it sat on the corner of the street, with one big sign across with the word "cafe" written to fit around a cup.

three employees. someone to make the food and coffee, a waiter, and one person who just sat at the cash register to get orders and socialize.

yoongi was the waiter.

a tall, lanky twenty-year-old college student, jeon jungkook, was the one to make coffee, and a former tattoo artist named hoseok took orders.

the cafe opened that morning at eight'o'clock sharp.

"how was this morning, yoongi?"

jungkook sat on a table with his black apron and white converse sneakers, drinking a cup of coffee; two sugars and one cream, the only way he drank it.

"new neighbor. seems nice."

"and?"

"he wants me to stop smoking."

"for whose good?" hoseok asked as he stepped into the room.

"mine, i suppose."

"you suppose?"

"unclear intentions."

"très intéressant."*

"and what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

he left grinning.

"go google it."

***

"nice afternoon to be outside, right?"

jimin had a bottle of water in his hand and a notebook in the other.

"what's the notebook for?"

"i like to draw. what about you?"

"i'm almost a writer."

jimin took a sip of water.

and yoongi took in a breath of cigarette.

"almost?"

"i enjoy it, but im not good."

"ah, got it." jimin smiled. "then i'm almost an artist."

he whispered to yoongi then, a smile creeping past his lips, "i'm terrible at drawing."

•______•
•

*means very interesting