Internally

Cooking is actually quite therapeutic, even when it’s for seven of the biggest celebrities in Korea. But I’ve barely measured out half of the ingredients when Taehyung bursts out of the bathroom, fixing his hair.

“I’m going out!” he announces. He catches my eye and salutes, flashing a grin. “Good morning, Mina,” he adds.

Taehyung is usually this bright, from what I can tell. He’s fully clothed and well dressed, unlike the other members, and as he walks past I can smell the cologne on him.

I wonder where he’s going.

Jungkook asks that question for me. “Where are you off to?”

Taehyung freezes at the door but plays it off. “Just meeting a friend,” he says casually, pulling a comical expression.

“Oh really?” says Jimin, arching his eyebrows in amusement, “And who would that friend be?”

“Nobody you’d know,” Taehyung answers quickly. “Anyway, I’ve got to go, so-”

“Not so fast,” says Jimin, getting up off the sofa.

I watch as Taehyung swallows and utters, “Jimin, I-”

“Can you go to the shop?” Jimin interrupts.

Taehyung looks confused. “Huh?”

“Mina is making breakfast for us and she needs some blueberries,” says Jimin, dropping the sudden confrontation. “Can you get some for us?”

“Sorry,” says Taehyung, “But I’ll be out for ages. Bye, Jimin!” He unlocks the door and darts outside.

“Make sure to call!” Jungkook yells after him.

Jimin shuts the door and turns around. “Why?” he asks Jungkook, puzzled.

“I want to find out who he’s meeting,” Jungkook laughs.

“In that case,” says Jimin, “You can follow him, and get some blueberries on the way.”

“Actually-”

“Go on,” says Jimin. “You’re dressed, you can go.”

Jungkook grumbles but gets up, stuffs his feet into a pair of brown boots, and opens the front door again. “I’ll be back soon,” he says, before closing the door behind him.

As soon as the front door shuts, another opens and Jin comes out all bright and cheerful, as he always seems to be.

“Oh, hi, Mina!” he says as he sees me, “Are you cooking?”

“Uh-huh,” I reply, resuming the task of measuring ingredients.

Jin walks over to the kitchen counter and observes me for a second. “Can I help?” he asks.
“You want to?” I ask with a smile and a sceptic frown.

“I always cook for the members,” Jin explains, “So I think I’d be your best kitchen assistant.”

“Alright,” I agree, “Mix three eggs in that bowl please, kitchen assistant.”

I smile again and point to a smaller bowl than the one I’m using. Jin nods and gets right to it. He works carefully, but with extra enthusiasm. We mix the wet ingredients and the dry ingredients in separate bowls, and then mix them together to form a batter.

“Do you guys have a frying pan?” I ask, looking to both Jin and Jimin in turn.

“Of course we do,” says Jimin, making a beeline for the cupboard by the fridge.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” says Jin, heading towards the bathroom.

And then it’s just me and Jimin.

He glances up for a second, eying me up and down. “Is that my shirt?” he asks with a laugh.

I fiddle with the hem of the black and white striped sweater, chuckling slightly as I struggle for an answer. “It’s raining,” I say by way of explanation.

“No, it’s okay,” Jimin says reassuringly, “It looks cute on you.”

A small smile twitches its way onto my face.

“Ah, found it!” Jimin announces, holding up a frying pan with both hands. “What should I do with it?”

I laugh then and point towards the stove, where he places it carefully. I reach for the batter mix and put it on the counter nearby. Then I pause.

“Should I light it for you?” Jimin asks thoughtfully. “Lighting stoves can be dangerous.”

He lights the stove cautiously and then, with a deep rap tone, mutters, “You’re in danger.”

Needless to say, I don’t understand the joke.

Jin returns from the bathroom and his eyes widen when he sees the batter and the pan. “Pan-cake-eus!” he exclaims, the English word sounding odd with Korean pronunciation.

I nod and grin. “I still need those blueberries though,” I muse, mostly to myself.

Right on cue, Jungkook bursts through the front door with a packet of blueberries in his hands. “It’s really cold outside,” he says. “I stepped in about a billion puddles as well.”

“It’s raining,” I say again, nodding my head. I take the packet of blueberries from him without another word.

“Not anymore,” says Jungkook, “But it must’ve rained a lot. No wonder you got soaked.”

“Was it you that stole my sweater then?” Jimin asks, shooting the younger member a joking look.

“It was in the laundry,” Jungkook whines, clearly tired of being accused of theft.

I turn my back on them both to wash the blueberries and pour them into the batter. I mix it together, and the pancake cooking commences. The three members watch in curiosity, Jungkook and Jin standing behind, and Jimin a little too close as he peers over my shoulder.

One by one, the plates next to the stove are filled with towers of fluffy pancakes, hot and ready for eating. I prepare seven dishes, since Taehyung very firmly stated that he won’t be back for a while. Of course I wouldn’t leave myself out. It’s been months since pancake breakfast happened in my house.

“Syrup,” I mutter under my breath. What is the word for that? I quickly translate it on my phone once all of the pancakes are done and the stove is off. “Syrup?” I ask, hesitantly reading the word from the screen.

“What about it?” Jin responds, whilst setting the table for us all.

“Do you have any?” I enquire. You can’t have pancakes without maple syrup.

“I think so,” says Jin, which surprises me. He rummages through a few cupboards until he finds some.

And then breakfast is complete.

I ponder over making a huge pot of hot chocolate, but that would probably complicate things even further. So I just let Jin take the plates of pancakes to the table, satisfied.

I pick up the frying pan to dump it in the sink to soak, and that is when my perfect cooking experience goes to hell. As it turns out, the frying pan is much, much heavier than I anticipated it to be. The weight causes it to slip from my hands, and land on my foot, which is protected only by a thin layer of sock. For a brief moment, I’m stunned, but my mouth reacts before my mind does and lets out a high-pitched noise that is somewhere in between a yelp and a scream.

Don’t blame me. It hurts like hell.

Suddenly it’s like everything else is muted out, and all I can take in is the sheer pain that stabs through my foot as I clutch it in both hands, hopping around the kitchen. My other foot slips from beneath me and I’m curled up on the kitchen floor, muttering a storm of,

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow...”

“Mina! Are you okay?” It’s Jimin’s voice. You can just tell.

He’s kneeling at my side, frantic all of a sudden. Even though I’m absorbed in my own pain, I can sense him waving his hands in uncertainty. He doesn’t know what to do. Hell, I don’t even know what to do...

“What happened?” Jin asks in that kind, caring way mothers usually do.

I grit my teeth, my eyes watering with the pain that still shoots through every muscle in my foot. I manage to say only one word: “Frying pan...”

Jungkook just looks alarmed from somewhere above me. “Is it bad?” he asks, leaning over the other two.

I blink unshed tears from my eyes and flex the toes of the injured foot. Jin and Jimin help me to my feet and I sink into the sofa, resting my foot on the coffee table. “Thank you,” I murmur, still far too focused on my foot to be any more grateful.

“It’s nothing,” says Jimin under his breath.

Breaking the stunned silence of the rest of the house, a certain black-haired member emerges from his room, still half-asleep and irritated. I glance at him and for a split second I wonder whether he’ll be even slightly concerned for my poor injured foot. But the other half of my mind knows what I’m thinking is rubbish.

“Could you be any louder?” Suga says, his voice thick with sleep. “It’s not like anyone died or anything.”

“Mina hurt her foot,” says Jimin, a little defensively.

Suga meets my eyes with a look that says: you’re really still here? It’s accompanied by that expression of irritation that seems not to often leave his face. Even so, I hold his gaze and lift my chin with a sense of defiance.

“It’s not that early, Yoongi,” Jin laughs, rolling his eyes at his roommate. “Anyway, Mina made us breakfast so we should eat before it gets cold.”

“Good idea!” says Jungkook, eagerly rushing to his place at the table, his mind filled with food and only food.

“It isn’t broken, is it?” Jimin asks me anxiously, nodding to my foot.

“I don’t think so,” I answer, but I touch each toe gingerly, nervous that he’s right.

“It won’t be broken,” Suga remarks gruffly as he passes, “Juts put some ice on it. It’s not hard.”

I clench my teeth as he walks past to sit for breakfast. I want to glare at him but I hold it back, since Jimin is still looking at me carefully.

“I’ll get some ice,” he decides, disappearing to the kitchen to find some.

“And I’ll get the others,” Jin says with a smile, sticking his head around one of the bedroom doors.

Namjoon and Hoseok appear and after a surprised greeting, the six of them sit down for breakfast, with only Taehyung missing. I really do wonder where he is.

“Here you go,” says Jimin, returning with a bundle of ice wrapped in a tea towel. I press it to my foot and sigh in relief.

“Thank you,” I say gratefully, nodding my head at him.

“Please speak comfortably,” says Jimin as he leans on the back of the sofa, cupping a hand to his ear. His face is dominated by a cheeky grin.

“Thank you,” I mumble again, this time dropping the formalities. I get mixed up sometimes. Jimin knows that. I think he finds it quite amusing.

“No problem,” says Jimin, acting the hero. “Now, time to eat Mina’s delicious cooking!”

At least they seem to enjoy the pancakes. It’s funny for me to watch them cut pancakes up and eat them with chopsticks. I take a picture on my phone from where I’m sitting, smiling slightly. It’s nice to see people enjoying your food. It fills me with a sense of pride. I’ve managed to achieve something... finally.

I flick through notifications on my phone whilst they finish their breakfast, wincing at the missed calls from Mom. I mean, I told her I was going out. Why is there even an issue? She was probably calling to check what time I’m getting home. Honestly, I’m nineteen now, not some kid. I’m twenty in Korean age, which makes me feel slightly better. I keep my phone on silent.

“This was delicious, Mina,” says Jimin generously, appearing behind the sofa.

“Thank you,” I say with a nod, “I wasn’t sure how they would turn out.”

Suddenly there’s a plate of syrup-covered pancakes on my lap, and Jimin presses a pair of chopsticks into my hands. “You should eat too,” he says kindly.

“Thanks,” I say again. On cue, my stomach growls loudly. I forgot to eat breakfast before I came.

Jimin circles around the sofa until he comes to sit right next to me. He makes some pretence of fiddling with his phone, but in the corner of my eye I can see him glancing up a little too frequently. What does that even mean?

Eventually, I meet his gaze and he smiles bashfully. “Mina-” he begins.

“Hey,” says Namjoon abruptly, getting to his feet with haste, “Jimin, can I speak with you for a second?”

Jimin turns his head to look at him but shrugs and rises from the sofa. The rest of the room watches as he follows Namjoon into the little corridor that leads to the bathroom. I have to admit that I’m curious about their conversation, but since it’s none of my business, I go back to eating breakfast in peace.

Except... it doesn’t really work out that way. We can hear every word.

I try to ignore them and go back to a time-wasting game on my phone, but that becomes very difficult when I hear my name. My ears buzz as I concentrate. Why would they be talking about me?

“Jimin, you’re making all of us feel uncomfortable, including Mina,” Namjoon hisses, both of them now out of sight.

“Why?” Jimin asks innocently, apparently completely ignorant of whatever issue Namjoon is addressing. “What have I done?”

“She’s here to clean and cook and nothing else, right?” says Namjoon in an undertone. “This is her job. Some of us are friends with her – Jungkook certainly is – but we all need to treat her professionally.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can see what you’re doing, stupid!” Namjoon finally snaps and the breakfast table becomes utterly silent. “I’m sorry,” he adds in a whisper.

Then their voices are so quiet that it’s hard to make out exactly what they’re saying. I frown to myself. What was Namjoon talking about? There are a few more whispered words exchanged before they come back. I only catch the very end of the conversation when Namjoon says,

“Just remember, she’s the same age as Jungkook.”

I really don’t understand this at all. The only contact I’ve ever had with guys was with my next door neighbour Jace. We were in the same year at high school, but our relationship was like brother and sister more than anything else. I still think of him as a brother now. And besides, he never acted in a way that confused me. How am I supposed to know what all of this means?

After the mysterious conversation between Namjoon and Jimin has come to an end, Jimin returns to his room without another word. Namjoon silently helps Jin with the dishes, which is something else I am supposed to be doing. Jungkook, however, leaps onto the sofa and grabs a game controller, followed by a still-sleepy Hoseok.

“Drink coffee or something, hyung,” says Jungkook with a laugh, slapping the older member’s arm.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Hoseok insists, “I just stayed up too late. Let’s play.”

They start up the games console, in deep competition. Half of me watches the game, whilst the other half listens to the conversation in the kitchen. What can I say? I’m the type to be curious.

“Here you go,” Suga grunts as he hands his plate to Jin. I turn my head to an angle just far over enough to see.

“Are you going back to the room?” Jin asks, putting the plate in the sink.

“Yeah.”

“How is your work going?” Jin enquires. “I know you’ve been struggling lately.”

“It’s... slightly better,” says Suga. “Make sure no one interrupts me.”

Namjoon suddenly turns to him and grins. “Is this stuff for a new album?”

Suga just shrugs. “We’ll see,” he says. “If I get anything good, I’ll get you in to record.”

“Alright, nice one,” says Namjoon, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Start washing up,” Jin instructs, tossing the dishcloth at Namjoon. Suga rolls his eyes at that.

It must be so cool to write songs. It’s probably like the satisfaction I get from a good photo.

I turn back to the large television screen to watch Jungkook beat Hoseok at the game. Though Hoseok protests, Jungkook insists it was a clear win. And he’s right.

“I demand a rematch!” Hoseok declares, now wide awake.

Jungkook just laughs. “So I can beat you again?”

“Shut up and play.”

I can feel someone approaching from behind and I feel myself frown. A hand swipes the half-melted ice bundle from my foot and swiftly replaces it with a fresh one. For a moment, I’m frozen, stunned. Then I turn my head and Suga’s dumping an icy tea towel on the breakfast table and the door to his room slams shut.

The first thought that hits me: why is he being so nice?

“So, Mina,” says Hoseok, interrupting my train of thought, “Do you know much about BTS?”

“If you talk so much, I’m definitely going to win,” Jungkook points out. Both of them are still focused on the television screen.

“I can still beat you,” Hoseok argued. “Mina?”

“Hmm?” Ah – his question. “No, not much,” I answer.

“You won’t have listened to our new album then,” says Hoseok. “You should – it’s good.” Without taking his eyes off the screen, he calls, “Namjoon!”

“What is it?” Namjoon responds.

“Can you get my phone?” Hoseok asks, “Get the album up so Mina can listen.”

“Say please,” says Namjoon, but he’s already heading towards Hoseok’s room.

“Please?” Hoseok pleads in a high-pitched voice.

A few minutes later, Namjoon returns and presses play on Hoseok’s phone. The music fills the room and I listen with curiosity as I finish my breakfast. After the intro, their title song comes on – Blood Sweat and Tears. I remember it from that time I watched the music video. Each and every song that comes next is captivating, and I forget all about my bruised foot.

After Jungkook’s song Begin, and after they’ve all explained about each of them having a solo song, Jimin’s song comes on. Lie... It sure is powerful. Jimin’s voice is amazing. I remember him asking me to listen to it after their comeback stage. It’s a pity I haven’t managed to until now. The album only draws you in the further in you listen.

“Ha, I told you I’d win,” says Hoseok as he beats Jungkook in the game.

I don’t know what Jungkook says to that because I’m pulled into the next song, captivated by a voice that belongs to Suga, whose emotions tug at my heart, and bring tears to my eyes.

I’m not crying, yet I am. His words bring a lump to my throat. He wrote this himself. Suddenly it’s crystal clear just how much music means to him. I compare it to my passion for photography, but it can’t really compare.

He’s so different when he’s on stage, and yet... there’s this strange sense that he’s at home. His song presents yet another side of him that I haven’t yet seen. He’s unpredictable, and that unnerves me. Perhaps what concerns me more is that since the very first word of his song, he’s all that’s filled my mind.

He’s rude. Yes, he’s rude and inconsiderate.

I shut my eyes tight. I shouldn’t be putting my feet up and letting them do things for me. That’s the reason I’m here. The only reason. I open my eyes and take a breath. I should finish what I came here to do.

I swing my legs off the sofa and gingerly step onto my injured foot. It stings, but I bear it and make my way over to the kitchen. I should just finish the job and leave. Except, I’m stumbling all of a sudden and the plate threatens to slip out of my hands.

“Hey, be careful,” says Namjoon, swiftly catching the plate.

“Sorry,” I mumble, trying to regain my footing.

“You dropped a frying pan?” Namjoon asks, trying to hide a smile. “I heard about that. You should go home and rest your foot.”

“No, no,” I disagree, trying to push past him, “I’m here to work and I should.”

“If it’s the money you’re worried about, one of us can pick it up for you and give it to you tomorrow,” Namjoon offers. “I’m serious, Mina, go home and rest, okay?”

I bite my lip as I hesitate. I can’t argue with him. So I answer with, “Thank you.”

“Jin, do you have any money?” Namjoon asks, turning to Jin who is still washing up. He does this whilst getting out his phone and jabbing in a number.

“Of course, why?” Jin asks. “Taxi fare?”

Namjoon nods and calls the taxi. I pull on my Docs whilst I wait for my ride to arrive. Namjoon’s like the older brother I never had, and maybe also like my dad.

Jimin emerges from his bedroom, running a hand through his blond hair. “Is Mina leaving?” he asks. When I tell him yes, he suddenly bows. “Have a safe journey,” he adds.

Perplexed by the abrupt change in Jimin’s behaviour, I let Jungkook quit his game and walk me down to the ground floor. He hands me Jin’s money for the fare, closes the door and waves goodbye as the taxi pulls away.

Today wasn’t quite what I expected, to say the least.

Notes

Hey guys!
I hope you enjoyed this :) The next chapter will be up soon and I hope you're all enjoying the story so far <3
Until next time,
asterisk xx