"One full meal per day, and you'll get a Bangtan Bar." I looked at my brother, who had grown a little more responsive over the three days he had been living with me now. He was still weak enough to spend most of his time sleeping, but he had started to walk around the studio a little, and  was finally talking to me again. I decided I could perhaps try to feed him the tiniest portion of regular food. Ms Eli hadn't seen anything wrong with it. 

Jimin looked from the bowl of rice in his hands to me with widened eyes. So far, he had eaten three corns of rice and declared himself full. 

I could hear the cogwheels spinning in his head. I guess if there was one way to get Jimin out of his current shell, it would be chocolate. Jimin filled his spoon with as much rice as he could possibly fit, then moved the mountain of white grains to his mouth.

"Hold on," I laughed. "Don't overdo it. It doesn't count if you throw up afterwards."

Jimin reduced his spoon to a regular amount of rice and held it out as if for approval. When I nodded, he shoved it in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and burped. 

"Good?" I asked.

Jimin shook his head. "Bangtan Bar better."

"And you get one once the bowl is empty."

"But this is soooo sooooo soooooooooooooo much," Jimin wailed. 

"It's hardly three more spoonfuls. Come one now. If you can't eat this, you can't eat a Bangtan Bar either."

Jimin sighed but shoved another few rice grains in his mouth. "Taste better with hand." He declared. 

"Well then. Eat it with your hands. I don't mind."

Jimin threw the spoon aside and dug both hands deep into his bowl. Maybe it was me misinterpreting things, but I thought he was already getting happier, more alive. Although he was still a shell of himself. But in two weeks, he would resume his job at MOTS house pottery, and he would attend therapy every Monday afternoon to help him overcome this depression. And then hopefully, he would become his cheerful self again. Not for me, but for himself. 

Jimin put the bowl down. There were still a few grains, but I guess he did well enough. 

"Well done," I grinned. "You want your chocolate bar now?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Jimin jumped from his chair and clapped his arms in excitement for a moment. But after a moment he stopped himself and looked at me questionably. "I live here now?"

"Yes, you live here now." My stomach clenched at the question. He was back with me for one and a half weeks now, but I couldn't blame him for feeling like he was about to be send back any moment. 

"Always?"

"Yes." I nodded vigorously while trying to hold back my tears at the same time. I had put my brother through the grinder, hadn't I?

"No more living MOTS house?"

"No more living in MOTS house," I confirmed. "But you will go back to work at the pottery. You liked working at the pottery, right?"

"Working at pottery… and then come here?"

"Yes, exactly. You'll come back here, once you're done with your work for the day."

"I live at place with green convenience store lights," Jimin nodded to himself, and he seemed…happy. Maybe he hadn't noticed that the store with the green convenience store lights was long gone, and I hoped it wasn't a bad omen. But I was glad Shop-dude had been able to relocate and was doing well.

"You live here now. With me. Permanently." I confirmed. 

"Okay. Chocolate now, please." Jimin's eyes were on my shopping bag. 

"Hold on, just a moment," I reached for the bag, retrieved the Bangtan Bar for Jimin and started opening it. 

"Nooooo!" Came the immediate cry. "I do myself."

But the thing was already open and under my brother's horrified glance, I broke a piece off and gave it to him, placing the rest on top of the highest kitchen shelf. "That's enough," I advised, trying to sound reasonable although I already know it would fall on deaf ears. "You have to get used to proper eating first."

"Why?"

"Because of your tube, remember? You had to be fed through the tube in your stomach. And now you have to learn how to eat properly again."

Jimin looked at me as if I was an idiot. "I know how to eat, hyung." He opened his mouth, chewing loudly as if trying to demonstrate he remembered the mechanics of the task. 

"I know you remember what to do. But your stomach needs to relearn how to process proper food. It only received liquid for such a long time."

Jimin looked at me, nodded. "Okay, hyung. Only very little chocolate."

I almost couldn't believe how easy this had been when he added. "I drink Bangtan Chocolate milk instead."

*

With an uneasy feeling, I got ready to work. 

Jimin was awake and sitting on the bed, wearing my old Velvet Underground t-shirt and looked at me curiously as I tied my tie and brushed my hair. 

I was the last day of my suspension, but Anna from HR had called me to advise that I would need to see her and our big boss again today. It was too late for me to find someone to look after Jimin, but I hoped he would be fine for three hours on his own. I didn't anticipate the meeting to last any longer than that. 

"I'll be back as soon as I can," I promised him.

Jimin nodded. "You go to work. At the mail office. Six thirty to five thirty and one-thirty to nine thirty."

I was surprised Jimin remembered my shift patterns but nodded. "Normally yes, but today I'm only going in for a little meeting." I sighed. "I will be back very soon, okay. Probably around lunchtime."

Jimin eyed me curiously. "You don't want to go?"

I shook my head. "My big boss is an utter twat!" I grumbled. Although I couldn't really blame anyone for suspending me for taking the van, having a hit and run on the way. It was stupid and reckless. But there had been no need to get the police involved. We had CCTV outside the building. He knew who had taken the car. No need to report it stolen.

"Twat twat twat," Jimin parroted, laughing.  

"Exactly that. Now, behave, be quiet. I left my computer on. You know how to find movies on there, right?"

Jimin nodded. 

"Okay. I'll be leaving now. See you later."

"Okay hyungie, bye-bye." 

"I'm back soon!" I promised, then left, feeling uneasy. Why couldn't those idiots schedule me for the following day at least? With twenty-four hours, I could have planned something, rather than leaving Jimin all by himself. I wonder what they wanted. 

I took the bus to the head office, where the meeting would take place. I'd never been there before. Now that I was on my way there, I got increasingly nervous. What would they want? They couldn't fire me while on suspension, right? 

But what if they did? I mean, these were dire times, right? Normal rules didn't apply. I needed the money. 

What if they degraded me? They'd be allowed to do that, right? Darn… I really wish I had read the company handbook. 

"Good Morning, Mr Min," Anna greeted me when I arrived. "Follow me, please."

I was guided to a fancy looking but small meeting room at the end of the hallway. "Please take a seat. I'll let Mr Song know you're here."

I nodded, sat down, and shifted around rather awkwardly. Mr Song was the big-big boss. Why would he want to see a meagre little branch supervisor on suspension like myself?

I sat down, glanced at the clock. The meeting was supposed to have started five minutes ago. 

Another ten minutes passed, then Anna stuck her head back in. "Mr Song is on his way."

"Thank you," I mumbled. What else was I supposed to say? 

It took another ten minutes before a man in a tailored suit entered the meeting room. "Mr Min," he said curtly, then shook my hand. "How are you?" 

"Erm…" how the fuck was I supposed to answer this? "Fine," I said.

"Good, good. These are tough times. I'm glad you're doing well."

Just get to the point. What is the fucking purpose of this?

"You've been working for us for eight years now, haven't you?" 

Again I nodded, wondering what this was supposed to be all about.

"And I see you have been promoted to supervisor recently. My congratulations."

"Thank you." 

My knee jittered as the man continued to read what I now assumed was my file. 

"Then, there was this little stunt with one of our delivery vans last week," his eyes crinkled as if he was particularly amused by this. "Which has caused a little work suspension." 

"Yes, and I am really sorry for this. I…had acted out of desperation." I wrung my fingers, scratched my ear, my eyebrow, the back of my neck. Please don't fire me. 

"So I heard. How is your brother doing, Mr Min?"

"Huh?"

"That was the reason for the little emergency, wasn't it?"

"Umm, yes it was," I had no option but to tell the full story during my last HR meeting. So they knew about Jimin, about the accident, about MOTS house, and how I had taken him home last week.

"So what is the long term plan for this?"

"Umm," I think I scratched my ear bloody, "Jimin will go to work again starting next month. Like, a workplace for disabled people, with supervision and all. So there should be no further disruptions and I will be able to work my shifts…"

The manager held up his hand, as if to indicate for me to shut up. "Good, good," he said, "that is still at MOTS house, right?" 

"Um, yes?"

"Wonderful."

I looked at the boss, unable to make any sense out of his words. 

"You know we've always donated annually to various charities." 

I hadn't. I never paid that close attention to what the company did or didn't. I'd only wished they'd decided to donate a little more towards my own payslip. "Um, sure. Yes?"

"We are currently planning Christmas. Newspapers are always interested in interviewing companies about their donations. They love personal stories and we would like for them to feature your brother. 'Mailman dedicating his time to help his disabled brother in times of the pandemic'. I'm sure it will be a cute piece. When are you free to talk to them?"

Excuse me, what? Jimin and I were supposed to be featured in a newspaper article to make my company look good—because they donated to some sort of disability charity? I'd never seen any of that money. "With all due respect," I said. "But I'm not even on any health care plan. I didn't get any adjustments for caring for a disabled brother. I've applied for a company loan to afford the care home, but was denied. This company has done nothing to support us, so why would we be a Christmas feature?"

The guy looked taken aback as if he never had anyone saying no to him before.

"Well, Mr Min. The way I see it you have two options here: You'll be our Christmas feature, which I'm sure will come with benefits and donations from newspaper readers on its own, or you may wanna look for a new job this is more suitable for your requirements."

"I'm either your muppet or you fire me." I got up. A moment ago I had been shit scared about loosing my job. Now, I only felt angry. Exposed. Taken advantage of. "Consider this my one month notice then," I grumbled and left. 

I had no idea what I was going to do, but I actually felt fucking relieved when I left the office. Elated, even. How I was supposed to find a new job with two criminal records to my name was a worry I was happy to leave for another day. 

Now, I needed to get home to Jimin.  

As I entered the apartment complex, and an odd scent was wafting my way. It was a mixture of someone not knowing how to cook and having fallen asleep in the middle of it. 

I ignored it until the point where I realised it came from my own apartment. I threw the door open, rushed inside—only to find Jimin standing at my kitchen counter, keeping a curious eye on my microwave. Surrounding him were potato and banana peels, the remains of some fish, an empty jar of olives and two empty tins of custard and tuna. Jimin looked at me proudly. "Look hyung. I cooked lunch for you." 

"That is…" Concerning? Potentially dangerous? Shit, I should have turned off the electricity. "Great! What are you making?"

"Pizza!"

I looked from the wild creation of ingredients to Jimin and back. "You made a potato, fish, olives, banana, custard and tuna flavoured pizza?"

Jimin nodded proudly. 

"That sounds…" utterly disgusting "amazing."

I glimpsed at the merrily spinning 'pizza.' The ingredients were arranged in a way that I assumed were supposed to be flowers. 

"And chocolate. Instead of cheese." His grin was wide and happy. "It's the bestestest pizza ever."

As expected, the pizza—if one could call it that without getting arrested by the Italians—was an utter failure. The dough was a sticky, globby, yellow mess, the fish and tuna looked dry, and the chocolate was burnt in places. Only the olives looked fairly delicious. Nevertheless, Jimin insisted on eating it. 

I gave him a small portion. "You have to chew carefully though. Your stomach…"

"Yes, yes, yes, I know, hyung," Jimin insisted and took a bite. Immediately he grimaced but kept on chewing. 

"So how do you like your special pizza creation." I tried to bit back my laughter.

Jimin nodded his head, "Phoopf!" He said with a full mouth, and I wasn't sure how to interpret it. Ready to throw the mess away, Jimin stopped me. "You try too."

I really don't want to. "Umm…"

"Hyungie?"

Don't look don't look don't look. I looked at Jimin and his happy and hopeful expression as he proudly held out a glop of his 'pizza.' Against all my instincts, I took a piece and shoved the tiniest portion into my mouth. I would have swallowed and be done with it, but of course, my brother needed to check I was chewing properly. I sighed, trying to keep my expression as neutral as possible as I played along.

*

I was woken up by loud retching sounds coming from my bathroom, followed by coughs and crying. I groaned, rubbed my eyes, then checked the clock. Two-thirty am, by phone told me before the battery died. I sighed, put it in the charger, then went to the bathroom to investigate. 

I found Jimin bent over the toilet, vomiting what looked suspiciously like the wannabe-pizza creation from the previous day. 

"Jimin?" 

My brother looked up at me with red, tearing eyes, paired with a guilty expression. A quick glance at his stained pyjamas told me exactly what I needed to know. 

"Did you take the pizza from the rubbish bin and eat it?"

Jimin looked away, bouncing on his feet. "But I made pizza for you and you didn't eat it."

"So you took it from the trash and ate it yourself." 

Jimin shifted his gaze to his feet. "I made it for you," he said accusingly.

"And that was very, very nice of you. I did say thank you, didn't I?"

"But you didn't eat."

"Perhaps next time, we can bake a pizza together. With the correct ingredients," I tried to sound cheerful.

Jimin turned around and more retching followed. 

I went to retrieve a glass of water. On my kitchen counter sat an opened plastic bag that held the barest remains of potato-banana-custard dough and fish-chocolate pizza. I felt slightly sick just smelling it and threw it back into the bin. By the looks of it, Jimin had eaten the whole thing, which would have been enough to make any normal person sick. I could only imagine what the most likely poisonous combination of microwaved, but essentially raw ingredients would do to a stomach that wasn't used to anything but the smooth liquid from a feeding tube. 

I brought Jimin the glass of luke-warm water, then searched my cupboard for some camomile tea. That was good for an upset stomach, right?

"Hyuuuuung," came a wail from the bathroom. "Hyuuuuung," Jimin sounded so utterly pitiful, but there was nothing I could do. 

"Sorry buddy, but you gotta puke it all out."

I placed a wet cloth on his neck, then rubbed his back as he remained bent over the bowl, omitting gooey yellow mess between convulsions. 

"Hyung," Jimin cried again. "Make it stop."

I squeezed his shoulders. "Sorry bud, I wish I could. But it won't get any better until this is all out of your system." I wondered how he had managed to actually eat the whole potato-banana-custard mess with fish, olive, tuna and chocolate toppings. I don't think I would have been able to swallow it down. The pea-sized portion I had tried last night had been enough to antagonise my taste bud and kill at least half of them. I had needed a whole bottle of soju afterwards to get rid of the terrible aftertaste. 

I looked back down to my brother, who seemed to have fallen asleep amid his retching. There was still yellow goo drooling from his lips, and I tried to clean it away as best as I could.  "Poor little guy," I mumbled, as I stroked some sweaty strands of hair from his forehead. 

I didn't quite trust the situation enough to carry Jimin over to the bed. Instead, I brought his pillow and a blanked and wrapped everything around him as good as I could. Then I climbed back in for some shut-eye, but instead found myself lying wide awake. With a sigh, I took my own pillow, and trotted towards the bathroom. Although Jimin was lying half on top of the toilet, there wasn't enough space for me on the floor next to him, so I folded myself awkwardly into the shower stall. There was no way I would get a proper rest that way either, and I would have kinks for days, but being with Jimin was more important than a fluffy warm and soft mattress. 

"Good night, Jiminie," I muttered, then tried to make myself as comfortable as I could, my head lightly resting on Jimin's lower back. 

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