by PetitPau

My heart pounded and beat all the way to my ears. To say I was nervous was the understatement of the century. My hands were so clammy, they looked like I'd washed them but forgot to towel dry them. The Tupperware box I was holding had slipped from my fingers twice. I really needed a cigarette, but this time I tried quitting for good. 

I wanted nothing more than to call work, tell them I wouldn't be able to make it today, then hop into the green coloured, beaten up hippy-van alongside my brother. But I had gone over it in my head a million times, coming to the conclusion that this was a stupid idea. 

Jimin looked at me with a nervous expression. "I going to MOTS house?" He asked for the third time. Darn… maybe I should contemplate this decision one more time…

"You're going to MOTS house, but only to work. You like working in the pottery, right?"

"Working in pottery, then come back?"

"Exactly. Once work is finished for today, you come back here." Now, this was the part that scared me most. Jimin would be brought back between four and four-fifteen. I had to make up some missed hours, and wouldn't finish before six today. Then, it would take me another one and a half hours to get home. Time, which Jimin would have to spend home alone. 

"You got everything, right?" I checked—for the umpteenth time. 

Jimin dangled a little pouch which was slung around his neck in my face. 

"Great. And you remember what to do tonight?"

"I get home when the big fat hand of the clock is here." Jimin pointed at my wristwatch. "And you go home when the big fat hand is there," he pointed at another number. 

"Correct, and what are you going to do?"

"I go home, and I type the one-three-zero-six-one-three code into the door."

"And what next?"

Jimin thought for a moment. "I go inside and I take off my shoes. I go to the bathroom, and then wash my hands," he listed. 

"Well done." I waited for more, but Jimin remained silent. 

"And what do you do after the bathroom?" I prompted. 

"I go to kitchen and I take dinner from fridge. Dinner is on bottom shelf. I put in microwave and press the peeping button one-two-three-four times. Then watch my plate dancing until the microwave dings and stops. Then I eat and I watch In the Soop until you come back."

It sounded so easy, so simple. And Jimin did a good job remembering all. I just hoped it would be as easy in practise. Jimin could get rather emotional. And once he got to the state anything of the above would be lost. Jimin had no idea how to calm himself, how to react reasonably, how too… shit… I really should call work…

"Excuse me, is Jimin coming?" The driver, who looked like Banana-boy's twin brother asked. 

Jimin obediently stalked towards the van and took a seat. 

"Fasten your seatbelt," I shouted after him, despite seeing him already doing so. This was good for Jimin's development, I knew that. But this was his first day back at work. And I wouldn't be there when he got home. 

But no matter how much I wanted to call work and say I couldn't make it, today was the worst day to do so. Mike, who was supposed to be the late shift supervisor, and Mr Kim had both called in sick. If I didn't show up too, Mrs Kang would have to manage the entire branch by herself this afternoon. Mrs Kang, who was my girlfriend's mother. 

…Well kinda. Nurse Kang and I had been on only two dates so far, but I had started to call her Sookie. I usually never called anyone by their name. And I would see her again on Friday. She would come over and… 

I shook my head. Not the time to get distracted, idiot! I needed to get ready for work, and I needed to have my phone ready in case MOTS house called because something happened, and I…

STOP IT YOONGS!

Perhaps I should purchase a mobile phone for Jimin. In case he needed to get hold of me whenever he spent the afternoon by himself. I gulped, ready to run after the van. What would he do in case of an emergency? Why hadn't I thought of that? Maybe… maybe I should try to leave early today? I… My heart sank. Mondays were the busiest days of the week. Once I was at the mail office, I wouldn't get out until all duties were completed and all task lists signed off. Leaving early on a Monday was equivalent to performing satanist rituals during Sunday sermon. And I still needed to get back in Karma's good grades.

"Stupid docks and stupid stakeouts," I grumbled. Joon wouldn't be available throughout the entire week and there wasn't anyone else I would trust Jimin with. 

I pondered that thought for a moment. Until recently, I had a rather large circle of friends. But I hadn't heard from my old rapper posse in months. I didn't even know what D-Dawg and HitKid were up to these days. Where they still upset with me for the mixtape mess-up? 

The last time I had seen my friends was December of last year. Today was the 31st August.

I decided to drop the group a text message on my way to work.

Yo, yo, yo, look who's been resurrected from the dead, replied D-Dawg in an instant.

Sorry, I replied. Life's been a fucking mess…

Yeah… what a fucking pile of bollocks, right? 

You can say that out loud. How are things with you these days? What ya up to?

Been doing shit here and there, D-Dawg replied. How bout we have some drinks tonight. Nisi's still open, right?

I shook my head. It's a Monday night, idiot. We can go out on Friday. 

WTF? came the immediate reply. What's crawling up your pants these days, arsehole? 

There was a smiley and a poop emoji emphasising his message, and I realised that I used to be the guy who went drinking on a Monday night, show up to work on Tuesday thoroughly pissed, and carried a hangover into Wednesday, where I would meet my friends again. Just how the fuck had I lived like this?

Well, things change. I texted back. Got some responsibilities now. So, Friday good?

Kay, kay, grandpa. Let's do Friday. But let's do Friday properly. If you tell me you have to be in bed by ten, I'm going to rip your balls off, because you clearly no longer have any use for them.

I left the text message unanswered. It was actually rather nice to go bed at ten on occasion. Partying was all good and well, but nothing compared to a proper full night's rest of seven hours at least. 

Gosh, I really did sound like an old man. 

D-Dawg, whose actual name was Daniel, and Jimin knew another, albeit only sporadically. Jimin had come to watch a few of my underground rap battles, whenever he was in town, but he never was one of the crowd. D-Dawg and him used to have a good laugh on occasion though. 

I'll bring Jimin along, I wrote back later, during my lunch break. 

Cool, haven't seen this fucker in ages. He back in country these days?

He is. He… I hovered over the keyboard, then deleted what I typed and glanced at the right hand upper corner. It was three minutes past four pm. Jimin was en route home now.

Would he remember the code to punch into the door? How to operate the microwave? How to switched on his beloved show? 

Tomorrow, I'm going to buy Jimin his own mobile, just for my own sanity. 

…Well,… not tomorrow-tomorrow, but after payday. 

I put my mobile away. I guess I didn't owe D-Dawg an immediate answer. It's not like I had to give people advanced warning about Jimin, did I?

"You alright, Mr Min?" Mrs Kang asked as I anxiously counted down the minutes to when I would be able to wrap up for the day. I still had another twenty-one to go, and had the feeling the blasted clock just stopped moving. 

"I'm fine, Mrs Kang, fine," I answered automatically, although my words where a lie. Why is your daughter on late shifts this week? Why does the MOTS house pottery not offer any late shifts? Gosh, did I tell them that Jimin still needed to take some food through the feeding tube, until his stomach could handle proper meals again?

"Mr Min? Are you still here?"

"Yeah, yeah." Another nineteen minutes to go. 

"Mr Min? Mr Min?"

I glanced up, only now realising that it wasn't Mrs Kang who was addressing me, but a middle-aged man in a pin-striped suit and fancy cufflinks. 

"Huh?"

"Are you Mr Min?" 

"Depends who's asking." I had no idea who the guy was or how he knew my name, but there was something off about him, although I couldn't put my finger on what it was. 

"My name is Gwan Dal, and I'm a reporter for Busan news." The guy extended his hand for me to shake. 

I busied myself with an envelope. "In that case, my name is Marty McFly, and the dude you're looking for ceased to exist a long while ago. Now, kindly show your backside out the door."

"Mr Min." The voice took on a condescending tone, which I was highly allergic to. My eyebrows shot up. The reporter prattled on, "we at Busan news are highly interested in you and your story."

"Funny that," I interrupted, "because I'm not at all interested in Busan news."

"Mr Min."

I was sick of hearing my name out of the reporter's mouth. "It's Mr McFly. I told you."

The reporter bit his lip. He clearly wasn't happy with my responses, but oh well… I wasn't happy with his presence. I guess neither of us got what he wanted. I glanced at the clock again. Four minutes to go. 

"I wanted to speak to you about…"

"And I want to clock out now, because my shift is finished. Have a good day," I disappeared through the door that read 'staff only,' plonked down on a bench and sighed. This wasn't the first noisy newspaper nitwit who wanted to report on my van-stealing adventure and Jimin rescue mission. Didn't they have proper crimes to talk about these days? In any case, I didn't want a part in this mess. 

"You alright?" Mrs Kang had followed me into the staff break room. 

"I'm all good. Another parasite trying to make money off my stupid van story." If they offered me some sort of compensation, at least. But I was expected to give my interview freely, so other people could make money with it. Not with me, thank you very much.

"Oh, I will deal with him, don't you worry," Mrs Kang squared her shoulders and despite being a height that would refuse her any entry to most rollercoaster rides, she managed to look intimidating for a moment. 

"Thank you, Mrs Kang," I bowed politely, then finally clocked out. 

It was thirty-six minutes past six when I boarded the bus, and two past seven when I changed into another line. At seven forty-nine, I had arrived at my local bus stop, five walking minutes away from home. 

I think not a single minute had passed in which I hadn't checked my watch. 

Just before eight pm, I anxiously entered the passcode to my apartment and stepped inside. At first glance, everything looked normal. The bed was made. Jimin's shoes stood next to the door, and his jacket hung on its hook. There was a plate on the kitchen counter, and I could tell that Jimin had eaten two spoonful of steamed veggies and rice. The microwave door and the door to the fridge both stood open, and I would have to tell Jimin to make sure he closes them. 

There was my laptop on the bed, and I could hear Jimin's TV series playing on full volume. The only thing that was missing was Jimin. 

I checked the bathroom, but no one was in there. For some stupid reason, I decided to shout his name, but to no avail. Where had Jimin wandered off to? What was he doing? Should I call the police?

I dialled the number, but hung up again. I couldn't image him being there, but before I called the police, I should check whether Jimin had wandered off into the basement or was trying to take the rubbish out by himself. 

Taking two at a time, I rushed down the stairs. The basement consisted of a laundry room, a storage room, and a cleaning cupboard, out of which came strange noises. I pulled the door open and inside stood my half-naked brother, looking utterly perplexed. 

"Jimin? What the fuck are you doing in here—and where is your shirt?"

Jimin looked around as if he just noticed where he was. "Is in machine. Because I made a mess on it."

"You… put your shirt into the washing machine. Yourself?" Jimin nodded proudly. 

"I didn't know you knew how to do your laundry?" 

Jimin shrugged in response. "I forgot which door goes up."

"Sorry, Minimi. I hope you haven't been stuck in here for too long?"

Jimin contemplated. "Maybe five or twenty-seven years," he said, nodding to underline his words.

"That's a very long time to be stuck in a cleaning cupboard," I agreed. 

Jimin nodded solemnly. "I think I need loads and loads of chocolate now."

I sighed in relief. "You can have a piece of chocolate. Now, let's get back upstairs." I removed my own jacket and slung it around Jimin's shoulders. Not only to keep him warm, but also because I wanted to hide the huge plaster that kept his feeding tube out of sight.

"Okay, but then, chocolate," Jimin reminded me.

"Let me just quickly check on something." I went to the laundry room where there was indeed a single shirt spinning around in one of the machines which was blasting happy foam bubbles into the room. Other than the fact that this wasn't the most economical way to wash clothes, Jimin seemed to have an idea what he was doing. 

"Good job," I grinned at him. "Perhaps I put you in charge of laundry from now on."

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