Inkigayo 🥪: Jimin’s POV of the black ocean

“I don’t need luck from you.” Min Yoongi’s voice is a low, reluctant growl, like he went through a whole cycle of internal conflict just to grit the words out.

Jimin frowns, watching every minute expression on his senior’s face, and steps back, shaking his head. Min Yoongi, you’re always so closed off.

He rolls his eyes and comes up with the harshest ill-will he can think of. “Hope you get a black ocean then.”

Bulletproof is too popular, anyway. They’re never lacking in fans.

——————————————

It’s been an entire minute since Yoongi stepped onstage, and not a single cheer has risen from the crowd.

Jimin swallows hard, a tremor beginning from deep in his bones. His stomach is beginning to feel queasy.

A few pces away backstage, Seokjin curses under his breath. “Daebak.”

Jimin joins his members and watches the LED monitor, which cuts from a close-up of Yoongi’s face to the audience—a sea of black.

Not a single lightstick is on. The festival might as well have experienced a power outage.

Jimin covers his mouth with one hand, heart sinking.

I did this. I wished it on him.

He turns to his fellow members, and finds his own apprehension mirrored in their faces. Taehyung is gnawing on his thumbnail, and Jungkook is clutching his head like he’s watching a disaster he can’t fix.

Still, Yoongi continues to pour his heart out onstage, rapping a mile a minute despite the less-than-warm reception. Jimin can’t even begin to put himself in his shoes. Praise and approval to him is what sunlight is to plants. To perform without anyone rooting for you…

He grimaces and shakes the tension off his shoulders, reminding himself not to choke up. Not now, when they’re next in the lineup.

“How do you bounce back from that…” Seokjin clicks his tongue and turns to Jimin. “Are you sure you wanna continue the collaboration with someone like him?”

Jimin does a double take. “Eh?”

“He might drag our rep down with him, don’t you think—“

“Let’s not think like that,” Jimin blurts, cutting his hyung off. “Besides, the contract is signed. I can’t just back out now.”

Seokjin shoots him a pensive look. “I really hope it goes well.”

Jimin plasters his best reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure nothing hurts our team.”

———————————————

Yoongi made no eye contact with anybody as he clambered off the stage. After his performance, he’d rushed off in strong, hurried strides, and Jimin couldn’t even catch a moment to check on his expression because Brighter Than Stars were called in next.

After their stage—which ended in thunderous applause—Jimin rips his lapel mic off and hands his battery pack to the nearest crew member. Then he’s running down the backstage corridors, poking his head in and out of the many dressing room doors lining the hallway.

When he reaches the last room and finds no sign of who he is searching for, Jimin briefly stops a crew member by the elbow.

“Hi, um, have you seen Min Yoongi anywhere?”

The crew member looks up at him, then down at a clipboard in his hands. “Ah, Bulletproof’s Min Suga? His team just left.”

Jimin blinks, reeling back. The guilt that started bubbling in him from the moment the audience fell to a hush at Yoongi’s entrance builds into something desperate. But he just smiles shakily at the crew member. “Ah. I see. Thanks.”

———————————

“Alright, guys that was good,” Seokjin says, wiping sweat off his forehead. “Let’s take five.”

The mirrors of the dance studio are fogged over from hours of practicing. Right after their festival concert guesting, they decided to practice the choreography for their upcoming single, months before release.

Panting, Jimin leans against the wall and sinks down, making a grab for his waterbottle. He gulpa down mouthful after mouthful. He frowns at a spot in the dance floor, thoughts drifting.

“Something on your mind?” Seokjin slides next to Jimin and sits cross-legged, a pink towel draped over his shoulders.

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been preoccupied since before we started rehearsals.”

Jimin frowns. “Not really.”

Seokjin snorts. “Right. Says the one who missed the beat drop and forgot his chorus formation.”

Jimin blanches and scratches the back of his head, nose reddening. “I mean…”

“Is this about Min Yoongi’s black ocean?” Seokjin supplies, studying Jimin’s face. “That affected, huh? You scared we’ll face something like that someday?”

Jimin shakes his head, fishing for his phone in his sweatpants’ pocket. It’s not that he’s afraid of being on the receiving end of it. It’s more like… he hates that idols experience such demoralizing acts at all. Black oceans, fan letter threats, airport mobbings, the whole lot. It’s what make a lot of his peers seriously consider quitting the industry.

And that he’d inadvertently wished it upon Yoongi.

This won’t do. He has to make amends somehow. Opening his Kakao and finding Yoongi’s contact, he types furiously:

You must be furious.

I’m sorry for the words I said. If only I could take it back.

Jimin bites his lower lip, contemplating just how far he can go. If there’s anything he could do besides apologize. He comes up with nothing, and he sighs at how powerless he actually is. So he offers one of the only spaces that gives him personal comfort.

For what it’s worth, sometimes when the world feels too much and I want to hide, I visit my uncle’s bookstore @ Ganghwamun District.

Here’s an address. Please don’t spread it.

“Heol,” Seokjin whistles, nosing into his phone, and Jimin turns his phone screen away with a scowl. “You’re giving him that location? That’d your family’s, isn’t it?”

Jimin wrinkles his nose. “I feel bad. I don’t want him to…” He sighs. To what, exactly? If he were truly honest with himself, isn’t he just being selfishly remorseful, trying to make up for a misfortune he himself caused upon others? “This is damage control. He doesn’t deserve it, nobody does, and I’m sure he’s trying his best too…”

Seokjin quirks a brow. “Oh, boy.”

“What?”

“You’ve got that face again.”

“What face?”

“The ‘I can fix him’ face.” Seokjin clucks his tongue. “Be careful, Mimi. You’ve always had this penchance for fixing people, but we can’t always be heroes.”

Jimin blanches and looks away. “I know that.”

“You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help himself,” Seokjin says, and he’s about to add more when a loud bang from outside the practice room’d the door rips them from the conversation.

Silence. Jimin and Seokjin exchange pointed looks.

Then comes Taehyung’s accusatory muffled, whine, “Jungkook started it.”