WARNING: Mature content
- Boram's point of view - "Boram." I turn to see Hoseok in the doorway. "Speak of the devil. I told Jimin and Tae that if they want it, they can have my number. You know what, any of them can contact me." "What for!" "Tae has no one to talk about anime with, and Jimin wants my opinion on his dancing. So they'll need to be able to text me. Jungkook might need advice. I might want recipes or cooking tips from Jin too." I turn back to Jimin. "By the way, send me some freestyle stuff too. I want to see if there's a difference in how you look." He smiles knowingly. "Expressiveness?" "Precisely. That and I just want to see for fun. Send whatever styles you do. I want to build a profile on you in my mind. Again, just for fun and only if you have the chance." "No, it's fine! I have lots of things I can send you! I've been dancing for a long time so I can do a lot." Hoseok clears his throat. "Sounds like you two really hit it off." I nod. "Sure did. He talked me into teaching dance again." "You taught dance?" "I taught ballet when I was sixteen until I was twenty-two." "Why does he know that and I don't?" "He was interested in hearing about my dancing. You've never asked about it. That's your problem not his." It does bother me a little that he doesn't show too much of an interest in my likes and dislikes, or my life before meeting him. He knew I did dance and never even asked about it. I could have brought it up, but it would have been nice if he'd have asked me himself. "I'm sorry." "Well, it is what it is. Can't do anything about it now." Jimin waves Hoseok off. "Go on. You're putting Boram in a bad mood. She was happy until you showed up." He looks kind of hurt. "I didn't mean to." I pat Jimin's knee a few times. "Don't be selfish." "He's the selfish one. He's had plenty of time with you this week." "Did you forget that I'm his girlfriend?" He laughs. "I did. Okay, I guess he can have you now. I'll be able to talk to you whenever I want now anyway when he gives me your number." "You sure can." Hoseok grabs my arm and practically tears me out of the room. He doesn't even bother taking me that far down the hall before he puts his hands on my hips and moves me back so I'm up against the wall. He presses close and kisses me hard. We get a bit too into it. We're kissing hard and breathing quickly. He takes my hand and puts it on his package. He's getting so forward, I love it. I rub him a little through his pants, but the moment I hear him make a small noise I stop and push him gently by his shoulders, separating us a little. "No, no. Bad. Terrible place." "Then damn it, come to my room. That's a good place right?" "Good enough yeah." "Hey, so..." I turn and Namjoon is standing in the hall. Hoseok doesn't even move he just groans and rests his head against the wall behind me. He whines a little before he stands up straight again and grabs me around my shoulders. He shakes his head. "No more. I'm not letting you go. Nope." "Let go." I try to push him off, but he squeezes tighter. "I'm serious. I'm not letting you go." I put my hand on his side. "Are you positive." "Yes." I start tickling him and he makes a valiant effort to continue holding me, but eventually gives up. As he's breathing and recovering from being seriously tickled, I address Namjoon in English. For the love of God I miss speaking English. "I take it you were looking for either me or him." He doesn't miss a beat and responds in English. "You." "For?" "Music." "Elaborate?" "You like a lot of different kinds right?" "I do." "Want to come recommend some things?" I smile. "Sure, but only if your open minded." He motions me to follow him. I start walking and hear Hoseok whine a little. "Boram?" I look at him and can see the absolute desperation in his eye. "What?" "Please?" I shake my head. "You'll survive without me for a little while longer." "I won't." I keep walking. "You will. I have faith in you." Namjoon and I keep walking. We laugh as Hoseok let's out a dramatic groan. I can hear him dragging his feet as he walks away. He can be so ridiculous. "I'll take you to the computer room. It's the only thing with a decent set of speakers. Besides, unlike Jimin, I wouldn't feel perfectly comfortable bringing you into my room." "Sounds perfect. And thanks for giving me a break and speaking English." "Not a problem. It's kinda fun to use it now and then. Thanks for speaking clearly." "It's only fair." He smiles. I poke his cheek and he's taken aback. "What was the about?" "Just a nervous tick." "Really?" "No genius, you have dimples." "You poke people's dimples?" "If I'm comfortable enough to poke their face." "You feel comfortable around me?" "I'm comfortable enough to hug you the moment I introduced myself. What makes you think I'm not comfortable enough to simply poke your face?" "You're a bit odd." "I'm dating Hoseok aren't I?" He laughs. "Good point." I can't help myself. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Stop." He stops walking. "What?" I step in front of him. He keeps looking at me, utterly confused. I grab his collar and gently pull down so he's at my level. His eyes are wide. "What are you doing?" "Something." I put my finger on his chest, slowly running it down to right above his stomach. The look on his face is priceless. I seriously love messing with some people. The smarter they are, the more fun it is to watch them be clueless. His voice is shakey and a little higher. "What are you doing?" "Something." I tickle his stomach and he starts laughing seriously hard. I do that for a few seconds. I grab his cheeks and squeeze them. "There they are!" I let go and watch his face go from smiling to more confused than he was before. "I wanted to see your dimples as dimpled as possible." "You couldn't just ask me to smile?" "Fake smile dimples? No. Of course not. Dimples are best when they're next to a natural smile." "What's wrong with you?" I turn around and hum a little. "That's something I've been trying to figure out for," I point in the air like I'm doing math on an invisible board and mumble under my breath. "Carry the four. Square it. Divide by pi. Multiply it by the remainder." I snap my fingers. "Twenty-four years, two hundred and seventeen days, six hours, thirty-two minutes, and eleven seconds. That's how long I've been looking for that answer." "You're fucking crazy." I turn around. "Eccentric my good man. Does that bother you?" He's dazed, but shakes his head. "That's fine. Just so long as you're aware." "Fully. Now lead me to the computer room." He chuckles. "Right." I follow him to a room and he walks in. I peek around the doorway and see him putting a second chair by the computer. "Come on." I go and sit down as he sits and turns on the computer. He leans back as it's booting up. "I'm interested in what music you like. I'm sure your tastes are as scattered as your brain." I scoff. "My brain is far from scattered. It is completely organized. I just use a different filing system, my thoughts are all in order though." He laughs. "What system is that?" "Most people use alphabetical or numerical. Some go by color, some go by shape." "And you?" "Touch." "Touch?" "Yes. Squishy thoughts, fuzzy thoughts, fluffy, hard, even slippery or silky thoughts; they're all there and all of them are precisely where they need to be." He's not sure whether to laugh or call the police to get this crazy woman out of his house. "Don't forget scaley ones, both fish and snake. There's a difference. I'd say dragon, but since I've never felt those I have to put those with the unsure textures. Other ones include griffin feathers and pegasus hoof." "Are you fucking serious." I laugh. "No? I'm not insane." "You had me worried." "I know exactly what those feel like, there's no unsure textures." "You're joking." I stare him dead in the eye, straight faced. "Am I?" "I hope so." I pause for dramatic effect. "I am." "Do you have fun screwing with people?" "Only smart ones who think they've got shit figured out. That's why I did that in the hall and why I just did that. I like fucking with your head. What's your IQ? Do you know?" "148." I nod. "Noted." "Why is that noted?" "It tells me how satisfied I should feel when I successfully confuse the hell out of you. Which let me tell you, is very satisfied." "What's your IQ?" "Fuck if I know. Highish? I think on a different level and in a different way, I have a ton of wit, but that doesn't mean shit." So happy I can cuss. I miss it. He nods. "You seem bright." "Sounds good to me. Bright, smart, top of my class, upper percentage of the nation's students, whatever you want to call it works for me." "For real?" "What you don't believe me?" "No I do. I could see you being that smart." "Good to know. I wasn't, but I'm glad I come off that intelligent." "How much do you lie about!" "I've been called smart and intelligent. I don't know, a psychologist made me take some tests and said my IQ was like 130 something. I can't really remember the precise number. I don't really care enough to." "That's high. Why don't care about your IQ? "It's a useless number if you do nothing with it. I out ranked some bitch who went on to go to Harvard and that's enough to make me happy. Killed her to know my outcast ass was ahead of her." I laugh in a way that almost comes off evil. I don't mean to, but it seriously made me happy. "Especially when I went to college during high school and she didn't. Icing on the cake." "You went to college in high school?" "I did. I had a two year degree a few weeks before I had a high school diploma." "So where are you working? You got a four year or something right?" "Wrong. I got a two year health care administrative degree. Something I didn't even want, but it only took a few extra courses to earn." "Why'd you get it then?" "Pays well enough." "Why not do something you like?" "The only things I've ever excelled in were school and dance. That's it. I can't make a living on either, so I don't really care what I do." "You could make money as a dancer." "I already did." "What?" Shit. That just fell out. I'm a moron. "Like I said I did some competitions with cash prizes. That's all." "Oh." "Why are we talking about this anyway? I came to share music not depress myself." "Right. Sorry." "No worries." He pulls up YouTube and turns to me. "Where do we start?" "Pick a genre. I assume you're not looking for hip-hop, I'm sure you know that plenty." "I do. How about," He looks up at the ceiling for a few moments as he thinks. "Something with actual instruments." "Got it. How's alternative rock, rap, with some slight screamo elements sound? Dude can do all that plus sing." "It sounds fascinating. Not sure how someone could meld those successfully, but I'll try it." "We should switch spots so I can type these in. It's faster." "Sure." We switch spots and I think for a second before I decide which track to play. I know the artist I want, but which track? It's a big first impression. I start typing. "America? What is this some nationalistic song?" I chuckle. "Hardly. This is Deuce. He's amazing. Well, to me. I find music videos a little distracting so if I'm really trying to show off an artist I just play lyric videos." "True music lover." "Word up." I'm such a dork. I press play and he listens. He's so serious. I listened to his mix tape so he's definitely got an ear for music. The song ends and he nods a little. "Play another. I want to hear a little more of this guy." "Alright. I'm going to take it in a slightly different direction and show another sound he has." "Do it." "I Came to Party. Very different." I play that and it ends. "Anymore? Just one and we'll move on." "Sure. I'll show you some with deeper lyrics. He's got pretty amazing lyrics when he chooses to make a serious song. You could probably appreciate this one a lot, being you're the leader. " "Oh yeah?" I nod. "For sure." "But he's a solo artist." "Now. He started a group that got pretty famous, Hollywood Undead, and they ditched him. He made them, wrote most of the lyrics, wrote most of the music, he basically was the group. He left and took that sound with him, so the group sounds really different now. Anyway, he tried hard to be as good a leader as possible, but they left him behind for some seriously lame reasons." "Wow. That's something else." "Now there's some context to the lyrics." I play The One. He reads the lyrics as they come up on the screen. It ends and he sighs. "I like him. What else you got?" "Genre?" "Still just instruments. I'm not being picky." "That makes it so hard to narrow it down though! Pick a letter." "A letter?" "A letter." "M?" I wrack my brain for a moment and type in something. "Mumford and Sons?" "For sure. Totally different sound than the typical. They're no garage band." "Sounds good." I play The Cave and he's thrown off a little by the sound. He doesn't even wait until it's over to comment. "This is so opposite of what you just showed me." "My tastes seriously vary." "They do. They're great tastes though, very quality artists." "They are indeed." The song ends and he's obviously itching for another. "I'll play you Little Lion Man. It's more or less what got them on the map." I play it and he's caught up in it. "I never would have thought I'd like something like this, but it's good." I laugh. "I know right?" "Yes." It ends. "C." "See?" "The letter c." "Oh! Okay just a second." "Have you heard Nirvana?" "Yeah." "These guys are kinda like that, but not quite. I dig it though. I like them a lot more actually." He watches as I type. "What kind of name is that?" "It's not that strange." "Cage the Elephant?" "Rap Monster?" "Jerk." "Their name's imaginative. No pre-judging." "Fine. Just play it." I smack his knee. "No pouting or you won't like the damn song!" I squeeze his cheek. "I like Rap Monster, it's just fine for you. It only works because it's Namjoon using it for a moniker." I let go of his cheek and he rubs it a little. "I guess I can find solace in that." "Good. Now smile. Once you do I'll press play." I smile big to try to make him smile. He does. I click the button and In One Ear plays. He immediately comments. "I like the guitar." "Just wait. The instruments overlap in such captivating way when it gets going. Parts of it have almost a sixties tone to it, but more grunge." "You analyze things pretty intricately don't you." "Music, dance, and people. Now shush or you're gonna to miss it." When it hits the main song he taps his hand a little on his leg. "You're right." He hears the singer's voice and his face shows a bit of surprise. I giggle. "It's a unique voice isn't it?" "It is. You'll be stuck here for a while. Hopefully Hoseok won't get too mad at me, but your recommendations are pretty good. I'm not letting you leave so quickly." "He can deal with it. I love showing people music. I get a bit carried away usually, when it comes to showing different music. I have a hard time stopping. I'm glad you want me to keep going." "I do, so don't worry about time." "Awesome." ... He leans back. "America has so many sounds to their music. Such a variety." "Look at how big it is, there's a lot of different cultures. The people are also really mixed too, so certain vocal tones combined, but some stayed unique to certain ethnic backgrounds." "Very true. You know, you take music seriously." "I do. If I'm going to listen to it, then I want it to be the best." "Yeah, but you take it a step further than just good or bad. What sounds pleasant or not. You scrutinize it." "I can see that." "Your descriptions of the way every group or track plays were spot on. Distinct and well thought out." "You're too nice." "I mean it. It's a serious compliment when you say you really enjoy our music. Now that I know your tastes, pickiness, and how closely you listen to things, I can put a lot of stock into your praise." "Namjoon, I'm just some random person. You've all won awards. Don't blow my praise out of proportion. I love your music, but my opinion doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things." "Why shouldn't it? I know you personally. I know you're honest and wouldn't lie just to make me feel good. You've got wonderful taste in music. You've never listened to Korean music. You don't like modern hip-hop. Yet, you like our songs. That means something, whether you believe it does or not." "If you say so. I'm glad you value my input so much." "I do." There's a pause for a few moments. "Shit." I look over to him. "What?" "It's been over two hours." I laugh. "Whoa, I told you I get carried away. I wonder why Hoseok didn't come bother us. He's been doing that regularly whenever I wasn't with him. Definitely doesn't make it an entire hour, let alone two." "No idea. Probably fell asleep." There's a knock on the door frame. I speak before looking back. "There he is." I turn around to see Yoongi smiling. "Were you expecting me?" "Oh. No, I assumed you were Hoseok. We've been in here for a couple hours and he hadn't come to snatch me up, so I figured it was him." He frowns a little. "No need to be so honest. God forbid you let me think you wanted to see me." He forces a sigh. "But fine. If you absolutely don't want to see me then I'll leave you alone." "You're getting dramatic. I didn't say you couldn't talk to me." He smiles. "Good. Namjoon, get going." He scoffs a little. "Why should I?" "I'm going to get her opinion on a couple of my tracks. So get out." He stands up. "Fine. Be harsh on him Boram." I laugh. "Of course, he knows what he's getting himself into." He walks out and as Yoongi's walking in he stops as he's about to shut the door that had been left open while me and Namjoon were in here. "Is it okay if I shut this? I don't want you to feel uncomfortable; I'm just a little secretive about my music. That's all." He's so considerate, it's true that the Yoongi I first experienced wasn't truly him. "That's fine. I trust you." His smile shows sincere happiness and relief. "Thank you." He shuts the door and walks over to me. He shoos me out of the chair and I sit in the other so that he can get to the computer. He talks as he types. "This is so strange." "What? Showing music to someone who's not in your company or something?" His smile hasn't left his face. "Not so much that, but that someone being you." He reaches out and grabs my hand. He continues holding it as he talks. "You in person. You're right here." "I am." He sighs and let's go. He opens a music program and turns to me. "Alright, just like last time, I haven't shown these songs to anyone. There's only two so I won't be borrowing too much of your time." "Don't worry about it. I enjoy this and you know that. Just press play so I can make my assessment." He chuckles. "You're still so impatient." "It's a compliment." "It really is."