Chapter Text
Jimin had always hated treadmills. There was something about running outside, feeling like you were getting somewhere and breathing in fresh air, seeing new things that just satisfied him. Unfortunately for him his trainers had banned him from running anywhere but on a treadmill as it was apparently easier on his joints. Fortunately for him, he no longer had an actual trainer. Even so, he tended to stick to that awful rotating band of springy rubber for the sake of his body, but today he couldn’t help himself. It had stopped raining and it wasn’t particularly nice out, but the air just smelled so clean. It wasn’t that stale recycled air that they pumped into the gym, it was fresh and filled with moisture.
The morning was peaceful, quiet, his run relaxing. He felt like he was flying, like he could go forever until-
“FAIRY BOY!”
Jimin looked up, then back. Sure enough, there was Kook quickly approaching him,
“Race ya!” Kook shouted as he sped by Jimin.
Jimin was a good thirty minutes into his run and there was no way his body was going to tolerate a sprint right now, especially one as long as he would need to get back to the dorm if his sense of direction was intact. But before he knew it, his brain and turned off and his body was racing.
He could hear Kook laughing now as the other boy seemed to easily keep his pace. His legs were longer, his strides were wider; there was no way Jimin could keep up. Kook didn’t even look like he was sweating as he ran.
Jimin hated himself for trying, but he figured he would be even more pissed if he hadn’t. Even so, Kook was standing up straight as Jimin reached their door, doubled over and panting, his body screaming at him for the abuse he’d just put it through. It wasn’t that far, but he knew his body wasn’t back to peak form yet. He knew it was dumb but… he’d done it.
“Better luck next time, fairy boy,” Kook said as he hopped up the stairs back to the dorm.
Panting, Jimin dragged himself up the stairs. This was what happened when he went against the rules, tried to do something he wasn’t supposed to. If the race had been on the ice Jimin would have destroyed him but no, he was out of his element. It sounded stupid, that he couldn’t run properly on pavement, but it was true. He forced himself to stand up straight and stretched his back out, his joints screaming at him over the impact he’d forced them to endure.
He managed to catch his breath and he wiped his forehead on his long sleeve. The air around him still smelled fresh, but he felt heavy with disappointment and humiliation. Would Kook rub this in his face? Probably. He seemed like the type. Well, just another reason to not run outside.
He dragged himself back up to the dorm and headed for the showers. Unfortunately both were taken, and Kook made a point to stick his head out from the curtain and giggle at him. “Shoulda been faster,” he laughed. Jimin rolled his eyes and headed for the sinks, determined to not let it get to him. He needed a shave anyway.
The person in the stall beside Kook was singing loudly, the song somewhat familiar. Jimin was pretty sure it was a female Kpop group’s song. It almost sounded better coming from whoever this was. It certainly wasn’t Hoseok or Yoongi and it didn’t sound like Taehyung’s voice. It had to be one of the other two he hadn’t yet met. He was lathering shaving gel into his chin when he smelled it. The scent of his shampoo. His expensive shampoo.
“Are you seriously using my shampoo?!” Jimin demanded, walking up to the curtain.
“Oh, you mean this? I thought it was community bubble bath,” Kook said, pulling the shower curtain open. He and the stall were covered in soapy bubbles, the bottle in his hand nearly empty.
“Are you kidding me?! I know you’re stupid but can you at least read ?!” Jimin tried to rip the bottle from his hand, but Kook moved too quick.
“Are you shaving?” Kook asked, looking a bit curious before his face burst into his stupid bunny grin again. “I hope you’re shaving dead skin cells because last time I checked, fairies don’t grow facial hair.”
“Screw you, dumbass!” Jimin lunged for him, ready to punch his stupid face when a hand grabbed his arm. Somewhere in the back of his mind he also heard the door open.
“Break it up, kids,” the person holding Jimin’s arm said. He realized this was the person who had been singing as he turned, finding the taller blonde standing there in a towel.
“What the hell is going on?” Another unfamiliar voice.
Jimin turned to find another tall boy standing in the doorway, this one with dark brown hair and an air of authority around him. He had several piercings in his ears and Jimin could see a bit of a tattoo poking out from the neck of his shirt. Damn, he looked cool.
“This asshole just turned my fucking shampoo into fucking bubble bath,” Jimin said, swiping the bottle from Kook’s hand with his free arm, smacking the kids arm down with more force than necessary.
“He’s just sore because he lost the race,” Kook said, still smirking. “Besides, how was I supposed to know it was his.”
“You saw it in there when you pushed me out yesterday!” Jimin protested, yanking his arm back from the blonde who made eye contact with the dark haired boy and rolled his eyes.
“Fucking hell, Joon, control your damn team,” the blonde said to taller dark haired boy.
Joon shook his head. “Jungkook, come on.”
“The fairy also thinks he needs to shave, isn’t it funny, hyungs?”
“Oh my-” Jimin reached for him again, the blonde grabbing him once more. Jimin never lost his cool like this, but he was so ready to throttle this kid and team him some damn manners, maybe wash his mouth out with what was left of that soap while he was at it.
“That’s it, listen here, children,” the blonde said, “Namjoon might be captain of the hockey team, but I’m the goddamn oldest here so I’m captain of the damn dorm. You get along or I’m locking you in the storage closet over night together with one single blanket. Got it? Nothing teaches people to get along like like having to share bed covers.”
“Yikes,” Joon said. Jimin turned to him to find Yoongi and Taehyung standing in the doorway. Yoongi looked half asleep and like he really just wanted to get to a toilet, but Taehyung stared on in amusement. Had Taehyung had that lip ring yesterday? Jimin could have sworn he didn’t, but then he’d been nearly blind with rage. Maybe he did.
“What’s going on?” Yoongi asked, his voice thick with sleep.
“Jungkook is being a brat, that’s what.”
“And no one is surprised,” Taehyung said.
Jimin threw the empty bottle at Jungkook and turned away, deciding to leave it before he did something stupid.
“Jungkook, you’re going to buy him a new bottle of his shampoo and you’re going to quit being a little shit.”
Kook, or Jungkook, rather, just chuckled.
“Namjoon will you back me up here?”
“Listen to Jin-hyung or you won’t see pucks at practice for a week.”
That straightened his face out pretty quick. Jimin didn’t quite understand the hockey terminology, but it must have been some kind of wicked punishment because it certainly got his attention.
“But hyung-”
“Enough. Jungkook, out of the shower. Now. We all have to live together, you’re going to treat your roommates with respect. Everyone get cleaned up, I want you all in the kitchen in 15 minutes. We’re having a family meeting!” Jin was demanding, but still somehow respectful. Jimin felt in no way like disagreeing. Maybe it was his voice; it carried authority, but it was also soft. And damn the boy could sing.
“Can I rinse off first?” Jungkook asked Jimin, the smirk completely gone from his face. He looked vulnerable now, maybe even a bit scared. It made him look younger, somehow.
“Whatever,” Jimin said, returning to the mirror to finish shaving.
Fifteen minutes later found the seven of them sitting at the coffee table in their living room area. Jimin shivered, his hair still damn from his shower. He wished he’d brought a sweater, but it seemed too late now to leave.
He had managed to learn everyone’s names. Jungkook was the hockey brat, Taehyung, his friend who he’d met before, Namjoon was the captain of the hockey team, and Jin was the tall blonde who also played for the team but was older. Jin had a hand to his forehead in an apparent mixture of confusion and disbelief.
“Ok so wait wait wait, let me get this straight. They mixed a dorm of half hockey players and half figure skaters?”
“Seems that way,” Yoongi said. Hoseok had urged him to stand with Jin and Namjoon, the (in some cases, self) appointed captains of the dorm and the hockey team.
“And three of them are first years? Teenagers?!”
“I’m twenty,” Jimin chimed in. Jungkook glared at him.
“I’m… almost twenty,” Taehyung said.
“Fine, one teenager.”
“One too many,” Jimin snapped, immediately wishing he hadn’t. Something about Jungkook was bringing the worst out in him and he hated it.
“Hyung, let’s file a complaint,” Jungkook insisted, tugging on Namjoon’s sleeve and then glancing at Jin. “It’s bad enough we have to share our ice with them! I don’t want to share a dorm with these-”
“Don’t say it, Kook,” Namjoon stopped him before he could speak whatever word he’d decided on.
“No one is filing complaints. We’re all just going to… we’re going to get along, ok?!” Jin didn’t look overly optimistic even as he said the words.
“Uhhhh,” Taehyung’s mouth hung open as Jungkook looked speechless.
“But he… Jimin hyung-” he glanced at Jimin, “Can I call you hyung?”
“No.”
“Jimin-hyung he… in the shower he…”
“I haven’t done anything! I’m the victim here!”
“On the ice he-”
“You knocked me over! And shot a puck at me!”
“You said I stink!”
“You do stink,” Taehyung said.
“Whose side are you on?!”
“Alright look you guys,” Jin began, Jimin only now realizing how broad his shoulders were. His size made him intimidating, but the he remembered the singing in the shower. “I don’t care what happens on the ice, that’s Namjoon and…. Yoongi’s problem. In fact, I don’t care what happens the moment you step foot outside this dorm. When you’re in the dorm, you act civil and you respect each other and their space, got it?” Jin glared at Jimin, then at Jungkook.
“I haven’t done anything!” Jimin insisted.
“Good, keep it that way. Kook? Got that?”
Jungkook looked at Namjoon for support, but Namjoon just nodded at Jin.
“No messing with the figure skaters, ok?”
Jungkook finally deflated. “That’s no fun.” His shoulders slumped and he was pouting. If Jimin didn’t know him better, he might actually find it cute. But at this point there was definitely, absolutely no way he could think that. He was certainly not a cute brat. Nope, no way.
“Come on, Jimin, let’s go for a skate,” Hoseok said, placing a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. He hadn’t realized how tense he was, but he felt his shoulders fall at the idea of a skate, his hands relaxing from their balled fist position.
“Family dinner tonight- 6:30. Don’t be late!” Jin said. Jimin glanced back at him. It wasn’t an offer, that much was obvious.
The walk to the rink felt shorter with Hoseok trotting happily along next to him, chatting animatedly about the anime he was currently watching. Yoongi was beside him as well and Jimin wondered if he was having as hard of a time keeping up with Hoseok’s long strides as he was. The blonde didn’t have a whole lot to say, simply kept his head down with his hands shoved in his pockets. Once again he was dressed in all black, his black skates tossed over his shoulder.
The receptionist, the same one Jimin had seen yesterday, glanced up at them as they entered the building, but returned to what she was doing as the three just walked by. Jimin still didn’t have a student card, but it didn’t seem to matter at this point.
“Is that…” Jimin trailed off, watching the skater in front of him. He was dressed in black track pants and a white turtleneck with black wool gloves. His profile was familiar enough, but the way he jumped, the way he moved on the ice, there was no mistaking him.
“Cha Hakyeon, you know him?” Hoseok asked.
The boy turned at the sound of his name, his eyes scanning the trio and finally landing on Jimin. His face lit up and he fell out of posture as he approached the boards.
“Park Jimin,” he smiled, dimples taking over his cheeks, “it’s been a while.” He reached his hand out for Jimin’s.
“Hyung,” Jimin grinned, taking Hakyeon’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled into a hug, “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question, but I imagine our answers will be same,” he said knowingly. He turned his head toward the bench, eyes falling on a man in a logo tracksuit, black clipboard in hand.
“Ah,” Jimin said.
“It’s so good to see you,” Hakyeon said, “how are you?”
Jimin knew he didn’t mean in that exact moment. He wondered the same thing everyone else did. Unfortunately for Hakyeon, Jimin wasn't ready to go down that road right now.
“I’m doing well,” Jimin said vaguely. “I’m going to get my skates on.”
“I’ll take you for a drink soon. I’d love to catch up,” Hakyeon said, his tone falling back a bit. He’d never been nosy as long as Jimin had known him. He wouldn’t press, unlike others. As he spun around, he caught the eye of the man in the track suit. He would press. But Jimin was prepared. In fact, he’d rehearsed for it.
He kept his eyes glued forward, making his way around the rink to where Hoseok and Yoongi sat tying their skates.
Jimin felt eyes all over him as he took his first lap, adjusting his thin navy glove around his wrist. This wasn’t abnormal, nor did it make him uncomfortable. It was different this time, though. His new friends were watching him skate, and his old friend was watching him for the first time since he’d started skating again. And then there was his coach. He’d come over to say hello, asked Jimin the usual questions, how he was doing and such, but he’d spared him any deeper conversation and so it remained looming. It felt like a cloud hanging over his head, not necessarily dark, but still unpredictably there. He wasn’t sure how the conversation would go despite how many times he went over it in his head. For now, all he could do was deal with the eyes on him. He wished he’d brought his headphones.
There were about six other skaters on the ice including Hoseok and Yoongi. Any more than that and Jimin would have probably felt crowded. He could hear Hoseok talking about him each time he skated near him, but whenever Jimin looked up, Hoseok offered an encouraging, bright smile. He couldn’t help but smile back.
“So, I realize this is short notice, but we’ll be holding an exhibition tournament in two weeks. It was meant to take place in Incheon, but the building that houses their rink was damaged in that storm last week. Now that we’re hosting it, it would not look good on our school if none of our athletes participated. It is a team event, so we need a minimum of five skaters. We don’t have time to put together new routines for each of our competitors, so I’m going to ask that you pick something you’ve used in the past and spend the next two weeks perfecting it. I’m here if anyone needs help with scoring and adjustments.”
Jimin wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, but Hoseok had gone completely stiff beside him. His normally bright and smiling face was white and Jimin could see from the corner of his eye that his brow was tight with anxiety. But why? The coach hadn’t even said who would be participating.
“Take some time to think about it and I’ll meet with each of you either this afternoon or tomorrow. Questions?”
No one had questions, and the chatter began as soon as the coach turned away. Hoseok didn’t move, and Jimin turned to find him staring straight ahead. Yoongi put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “Relax, Hobi,” he said softly, shaking Hoseok a bit as though trying to jar him out of his trance.
“Do you guys want to get some food?” Yoongi asked as he dried his skate blades on a dark green towel. He absently passed it to Hoseok so he could do the same.
But Hoseok had already dried his. In fact, his bag was already packed up and slung over his shoulder. “I’m going for a swim. I’ll see you guys back at the dorm.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t even look at them. He simply turned and walked away.
“Need this?” Yoongi offered Jimin the towel.
Jimin took it, “thanks. Um, what was that about? Swimming?”
“He swims a lot,” Yoongi said as he pulled his skate guards over his blades. “Doesn’t really run or anything for cardio, just swims. I’ll never understand it,” Yoongi visibly shuddered. “I hate the water.”
Yep, he was definitely a cat.
“He seemed… stressed though,” Jimin pointed out, now pulling his own skate guards on.
“He gets anxious about competitions. He deals with anxiety with exercise. Don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
“We’re athletes, that’s what we do,” Yoongi offered. “He’ll be fine when he gets back. Food?”
“Yeah, sure,” Jimin stared back in the direction Hoseok had disappeared.
“Jimin, can I borrow you for a minute?”
Jimin looked up at the sound of the deep, familiar voice Coach Bang.
Coach Bang’s eyes moved from Jimin to Yoongi, as though he knew Yoongi was waiting for him so they could leave together. Yoongi nodded, and his eyes returned to Jimin.
“Yeah.”
“You waited?” Jimin said. It came out as more of a question than the statement he’d meant it to be.
Yoongi was sitting on the couch, still dressed in his black skating track pants but with a big black hoodie pulled over top. He was wearing a black mask lazily pulled down around his chin, his booted feet were up on the table in front of him and he had his phone out with one headphone in. The couch looked it had partly swallowed him up and Jimin was reminded of how long he’d taken.
“You didn’t have to,” Jimin added.
Yoongi shrugged and pulled his headphone out of his ear, coiling the cord up around his hand. “We said we’d get food.”
“Well thanks,” Jimin said, offering him his hand. “That couch looks like it’s going to swallow you.”
“It’s tried many times,” Yoongi said, “yet here I am, still in one piece.”
Jimin laughed as Yoongi righted himself, pocketing his phone and headphones. “How was your meeting? And what do you want to eat?”
“You pick. I don’t know anything good around here.”
“Let me enlighten you. Anything you don’t like?” Yoongi held the door open for him.
“Don’t like seafood,” Jimin said, burying his hands in his pockets as the wind hit them.
“Alright we can work with that. So coach made you skate, hey?” Yoongi was persistent. Jimin dodged the first question, but he wasn’t getting out of this entirely.
“You saw that?” Jimin asked, turning to look at Yoongi, wanting to see his reaction.
“Mm,” Yoongi hummed. “I see why Hobi was making such a fuss.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re amazing.”
Jimin felt his face flush. He didn’t know Yoongi well, but he didn’t seem the type to dish out unwarranted compliments.
“Oh, well I’m-”
“What did coach have to say?”
“He um…”
“I’m missing something here, aren’t I?” Yoongi asked.
“He and I know each other,” Jimin admitted. “He’s kind of the reason I applied to this school.”
“I’ve heard he’s a well known coach. That’s why Hakyeon-hyung is here too, right?”
“We didn’t get to talk much, but yeah, I think so.”
“It sounds like he’s going to nationals this year,” Yoongi said quietly.
“Hakyeon?! Really?!” Jimin nearly jumped off the sidewalk. “You’re kidding?”
“He’s talented, are you surprised?” Yoongi’s eyes were trained on him as he pulled up his facemasks. Jimin wished he’d brought one.
“No- well, yes but. I mean,” Jimin was struggling with his words. “I’m not surprised he made it at all. He’s always been one of the best skaters for his age in Korea. I’m surprised he didn’t tell me…”
“You guys only talked for a minute. He’s a modest guy.”
“This is true,” Jimin said quietly, thinking. He supposed Yoongi was right. Hakyeon wasn’t the type to say hey haven’t seen you in years, by the way I’m going to nationals.
“That’s awesome. I’m happy for him,” Jimin finally said.
“Are you?”
“Of course!”
“Not jealous?”
Jimin shot Yoongi an offended look. “With all due respect, hyung, I’m not like that. Hakyeon-hyung’s accomplishments are his own; they have nothing to do with me. Even if he’d beaten me for the spot, I would still be happy for him.”
Yoongi didn’t reply. He turned to look at Jimin again, as though studying him. Did he think Jimin was lying? Whatever he was concerned about, he looked away.
“What?” Jimin asked, feeling uncomfortable.
“Nothing,” Yoongi said. He stopped and nodded to the restaurant they’d come to stand in front of. “This is the place.”
Jimin tilted his head up to read the sign. It was a ramen house, and he suddenly realized how cold he felt. He couldn’t get inside quick enough.
They settled at a table near the back of the restaurant, Yoongi turning down the first suggested table right next to the window, apparently agreeing with Jimin’s temperature feelings. Yoongi ordered them two beers, giving Jimin a minute to stare at the menu before calling the server over. Their server took their order and left them in menu-less silence.
“So,” Yoongi began, knitting his fingers together on the table in front of him, “how did you know coach?”
“He…” Jimin dropped his gaze. Why was this so hard to talk about? Was it just because he didn’t know Yoongi? He seemed like a nice enough guy, and yet he was nervous about saying too much. “He wanted to take me to the olympics,” he said. “It was years ago, though.”
“Wanted? Past tense?”
Jimin looked up to meet Yoongi’s eye, but he had already turned his head away.
“I still want to go. It won’t be this time around though.”
“Because you got hurt?”
Jimin was silent. He’d mentioned it last night. It was the honest truth.
Yoongi was quick to pick up on Jimin’s discomfort. “It’s ok if you don’t want to talk about it. I was just curious.”
“Yeah. He set out a path for me that I wasn’t willing to follow, so I chose to go with a different coach. I did what I thought was best.”
“And yet here you are,” Yoongi said, this time staring straight at him.
“I fought my own battle, and I lost. I’m not ready to give up on my dream just yet so yeah, here I am.”
“That must have taken serious guts.”
“What?”
“To be able to admit you were wrong, made a mistake, your plan didn’t work… however you want to put it. That’s… very honourable.”
Yoongi’s face was sincere. He wasn’t attacking Jimin. Even if he was though, Jimin wouldn’t have cared. Of course he had pride, but not like that. Being stubborn and unable to admit you screwed up was stupid. There was no way you could learn from your mistakes if you couldn’t even admit you’d made them.
“Why wouldn’t I admit it? There’s no point in denying that I screwed up.”
“Is that what you said to him today?”
“Kind of, but I’m here because of him. Doesn’t that say enough?”
“I suppose it does. It’s just… interesting.”
“Why?”
“Because most people hate admitting that they were wrong. People tend to blame outside forces, make excuses. You could have just said you got hurt.”
“Yeah well, it was more complicated than that. Besides, there’s no point in wasting time denying it. I just want to focus on the future. I don’t have the energy to stress about what could have been.”
Yoongi was watching him again, studying him, like before. It made Jimin a bit uncomfortable… again. But there was nothing malicious about the way he looked at him. He wanted to read it, wanted to understand but it was clear that Yoongi was used to keeping a straight face.
“What about you?” Jimin broke the silence. Their drinks arrived and the both took a long drink for their beers. “You said you grew up playing hockey. You skate now- well, I might add, but you aren’t in touch with the figure skating world.”
“Just because I didn’t know you means I’m not in touch with it? What are you trying to say?”
“I mean- Hoseok said-”
Yoongi’s serious face broke into a grin. “I’m just messing with you.”
Jimin felt his face flush. That had definitely sounded conceited, and he mentally kicked himself for it, even if Yoongi was just playing. He wasn’t cocky, full of himself, he’d always made a point of that.
“You’re right, though. It took Hoseok some time to wrap his head around this one, so you might be the same. Skating isn’t my first love,” Yoongi said, lifting his glass to his face. He kept his eyes on Jimin, watching for a reaction. Jimin gave him nothing. He had nothing.
“So, was it hockey?”
Yoongi almost choked on his drink, his carefully crafted demeanor falling straight off the table, his beer almost following as he steadied it, coughing.
“God no,” Yoongi said through a strained voice, attempting to clear his throat.
“Well good. We have that in common then.”
“Music,” Yoongi said, righting himself as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Music is my passion.”
Jimin hadn’t been expecting that. Usually skaters that were as talented as Yoongi stuck to their trade. Everyone loved music, but the way Yoongi’s lips formed the word told Jimin it was more than just a simple love that everyone shared.
“What kind of music?” Jimin asked. He almost asked if Yoongi was in a band or something, but somehow he couldn’t see the short, blonde cat who moonlighted as a figure skater prancing around with a trumpet, or even a guitar for that matter.
“Mostly hip hop,” Yoongi said. Ah, that made sense. “But I’m a writer, and I’m studying music composition and production.”
“Do you sing? Or play instruments?”
“I rap and I play the piano,” Yoongi said.
“That’s an interesting combination,” Jimin said. He worried it might have come off as sarcastic, but he hadn’t meant it like that. Yoongi didn’t seem offended though, he just smiled.
“So where does skating fall into all this?”
“I’m here on a scholarship,” he finally said, his tone shifting. Despite most people’s feelings about scholarships, this was obviously something he wasn’t nearly as proud of as he was of his music.
Now it made sense. “I see,” Jimin said, not sure how to pursue the subject farther. Yoongi had respected his boundaries so Jimin would do the same.
“Yeah, I’m kind of using skating to pursue my own passion. Hope that doesn’t offend you…”
“Not at all,” Jimin said. “You’re a great skater, and obviously I could sit here and say you’re wasting your talent, but a) you aren’t, because you’re still competing, b) I have no idea what your music sounds like so I can’t judge, and c) it’s really none of my business what you choose to do with your life. I guess I could say I’m happy for you that you’re chasing your own dreams.”
Yoongi grinned. “I like you, Park Jimin.”
Jimin flushed again, unable to keep himself from smiling back at Yoongi.
“I’ll admit I was a bit worried when Hoseok said you were famous, but I’m pleasantly surprised. I will allow him to continue fanboying over you without further complaint.”
“Oh my god, hyung!” Jimin buried his hands in his face.
Yoongi sat back in his chair and sipped more of his drink.
“Would you let me listen to your music some time?” Jimin asked once he’d regained his composure.
“Sure,” Yoongi said.
“I used to take singing lessons when I was younger,” Jimin admitted.
“Oh? I’m always looking for vocalists to use on my tracks.”
“I’m definitely not any good anymore. Not that I was when I was little either but…”
“I’d still love to hear you. You have a nice speaking voice. I bet you sing well.”
“Hyunggggg!” Jimin whined, flushing again.
The living room was noisy when Yoongi and Jimin returned to the dorm - the howling wind outside having nothing to do with the noise coming from upstairs. It sounded like there were children play fighting and it made Jimin want to turn around, go back to the ramen shop and order another beer, then sit there for another several hours just chatting with Yoongi. Unfortunately they had a family dinner to attend, kids and all.
“What the hell are they doing up there?” Yoongi asked as he climbed the stairs.
Voices joined the banging, and Jimin could only assume that either a large creature had gotten into the dorm and they were fighting it off, or the two idiots were literally wrestling on the ground. The latter seemed more likely.
“Hey! Idiots! Calm down before I change my mind and take that thing away from you!”
Yoongi laughed as Jin’s hit pitched yet powerful voice filled the room just as they opened the door.
“Hyung! He took my controller! MY controller! The red one! Everyone knows that one’s mine!”
“You’re not in high school anymore, Kook. No one cares. Now shut up or the console is going away,” Jin said.
“Fine,” Kook pouted, turning his attention back to the TV.
“I told you that you could bring it out because I thought it would help you get along with everyone else. I didn’t think it was going to start a war over a damn controller.”
“Having fun?” Yoongi asked, pulling his mask off and setting his phone down on the counter.
“Kids,” Jin huffed. “Is it so much to ask that everyone just get along and act like civilized adults?”
Jimin turned to Jungkook and Taehyung, they were now squabbling over who go to play as Yoshi. He couldn’t help but laugh as Jin started yelling again.
“I SWEAR TO GOD YOU TWO!”
“Oi, move over brats, I’m coming to play,” Yoongi said, plopping himself down right between the two. He took the red controller from Taehyung and reached over to hit the back button on Jungkook’s controller, deselecting the character so he could take Yoshi. “Jimin, come play,” Yoongi called.
Jimin was hesitant. He’d rather just sit back and watch the chaos, but Yoongi had turned to him and was holding out another controller. He couldn’t leave him to suffer alone with Jungkook and Taehyung. He was probably just trying to give Jin some peace while he cooked.
The room was silent, all eyes on Jimin, except Taehyung who was watching Yoongi with a mildly terrified expression.
Jimin nodded and stepped forward to take the controller form Yoongi. He moved around Jungkook and sat on the smaller couch.
Jimin was not much of a gamer. Taehyung and Jungkook had obviously played a lot and Jimin wasn’t even in their league. What really surprised him though, was how bad Yoongi was given the confidence he’d marched into the living room with. Jungkook looked like he was about to climb over the back of the couch the first time he knocked Yoongi’s player off the track. The stare Yoongi shot at him was completely terrifying, especially if you knew nothing about him. Hell, Jimin did know him a bit, and he still found it scary. A part of him felt for Kook, but another part of him remembered the damn bubble bath Jungkook had made out of shampoo and he found himself smiling.
“Namjoon, seriously, get out of the kitchen!” Jimin looked up. He’d fallen off the track and was waiting for his character to reset, so he looked to the kitchen and saw Jin kicking Namjoon out.
“I told you I’d help!”
“Great, if I need help burning water, I’ll call you,” Jin said.
Namjoon rolled his eyes and headed for the couch.
“Your turn,” Yoongi stood up and thrust his controller into Namjoon’s hands. Namjoon stared after him, but Yoongi disappeared down the hall. Jimin thought about following him as Namjoon settled into his vacant spot, but he returned only a few seconds later with what looked like a bottle of wine in his hand.
“Hey.” Jimin nearly jumped as someone came up behind him and began massaging his shoulders. He was pretty sure he fell of the track again as he looked back. It was Hoseok.
“You scared me,” Jimin heaved.
“Sorry,” he grinned.
“Want to play?” Jimin asked, handing his controller over.
“Sure- oh my gosh you’re losing!”
Jimin laughed as Hoseok fell into focus, trying to pull Jimin’s failing character out of last place. Jimin watched him from the corner of his eye, remembering the anxiety that seemed to overtake him before he’d all but bolted from the rink to go swimming. Apparently he was feeling better, because the smile that found its way onto his face as he caught up to the others was beaming. Jimin smiled softly as he took Hoseok’s bag from his shoulder and ducked off the couch.
He found Jin and Yoongi in the kitchen, Yoongi seated at one of the stools pouring wine into two glasses, Jin hard at work over a frying pan.
“Do you like wine?” Yoongi asked Jimin.
“Is he legal?” Jin asked without looking up.
Yoongi glanced at Jimin as though he didn’t actually know.
“Yes,” Jimin deadpanned. “And yes, I like wine.”
Yoongi shrugged and reached across the counter for another glass. He poured some wine in and handed it to Jimin. “You drink more than I expected you to.”
“What do you mean?” Jimin asked, taking the glass and swirling it. He moved it closer to his face and sniffed it, taking in the aromatics. It didn’t smell like a cheap wine.
“You’re a serious athlete. Most serious athletes don’t drink much.”
“Well I’m a serious athlete that knows he needs to cope with his stress one way or another,” Jimin said. Right at that moment, Jungkook gave a particularly loud shout from the other side of the room and Jimin glared at him.
Jin laughed, a most amusing laugh. It almost sounded like a windshield wiper.
“Cheers to that,” Yoongi said, holding up his glass. Jimin turned back and tapped his glass to theirs.
“Are you guys drinking without me?” Namjoon asked from the living room. His head was tilted towards them, but he was still looking at the screen.
“Just the grape juice,” Jin chuckled.
“Gross,” Namjoon replied.
“Do you want a beer?” Yoongi asked.
“If you’re offering,” Namjoon said, eyes still on the screen, bashing away at his controller. Jimin took a second to look at the television. Namjoon, despite looking like he knew what he was doing, was in dead last. Jimin grinned at that.
Yoongi huffed and spun himself around in his chair, took a long gulp from his wine and set the glass down on the counter. He stood up, grumbling, and headed for their room. “Anyone else? While I’m up?”
“Something fruity please, hyung!” Hoseok asked.
“Kids?” Yoongi called from around the corner
“Are underage,” Jin yelled from the kitchen.
“I’m not!” Taehyung protested. “But I don’t really like alcohol… it’s kind of… bitter.”
“Really? You won’t let me drink? I’ll be legal in like 3 weeks. What are you, my mother?” Jungkook protested.
“Prove to me you can be responsible, then we’ll talk,” Jin said. Yoongi snickered as he returned, closing their bedroom door behind him.
Namjoon nodded, clearly only half listening.
“Here,” Yoongi said, pressing a cold can against Namjoon’s neck, causing him to jump and lose focus.
“Hyung! I was winning!” He whined.
“You’ve been in last place this entire time,” Yoongi said, smirking. Jimin could definitely back him up there. What caught his attention though, was how casual the two were around each other. In fact, everyone seemed like they were more comfortable with each other than they would be if they’d just met. He supposed that they’d been at school together for a while, maybe they’d had classes together? Or maybe it was because they’d all shared the ice? They seemed to get along better than he and the younger hockey players were.
Yoongi dropped the second drink down in Hoseok’s lap and returned to his spot at the counter. “The things I do for these guys,” he said, as though he’d gone on a long walk through the desert to fetch water for them. He took another large gulp from his wine glass, nearly emptying it.
Jimin sipped his own wine, the buzz pleasantly working its way up his legs and making him feel relaxed. Whatever Jin was making smelled delicious, but the last thing he felt right now was hungry. The meal he’d eaten with Yoongi had been massive compared to what he normally ate, but he didn’t want to be rude. He hoped that Yoongi would also claim he was full so Jimin had an out, but so far Yoongi was just watching Jin with interest.
“What are you making?” Yoongi finally asked.
“Just some japchae,” Jin said, checking a pot of boiling water. “I wanted something easy for a lot of people. Here, can you cut these?” He didn’t even look at Yoongi, just slid the cutting board towards him with a knife and a pile of mushrooms.
“That’s a lot of mushrooms,” Yoongi commented, setting down his wine glass.
“Have you seen hockey players eat?”
“Touche,” Yoongi said.
“How are your classes looking?” Jin asked, obviously making small talk. It seemed like Jin and Yoongi also knew each other, but they maybe weren’t as familiar as Yoongi and Namjoon.
Yoongi shrugged as he began slicing mushrooms. “Same old, you know? Nothing super exciting. You?”
“Mine are getting more useful. Less cellular physiology type crap, more actual care and prevention of injuries. I’m sure it’s going to come in useful with this lot,” Jin grinned, nodding towards the others playing video games. Jungkook and Taehyung were on their feet, half playing the game and having shoving each other around. Hoseok couldn’t stop laughing and Namjoon had his forehead in the palm of his hand. Jimin laughed at the sight.
“You’re probably right,” Yoongi said.
“What about you, Jimin?” Jin asked.
“What?” It was almost like he’d forgotten he was actually there. He’d been more interested in watching and listening to Yoongi and Jin interact than he was actually communicating himself. It was like watching a television only to have one of the characters turn toward the camera and speak to you.
“What are you taking?” Jin asked, turning to Jimin this time.
“Oh um, I haven’t really picked a major yet. I’m just taking general studies to see what I like.”
“The athlete life,” Jin smiled.
“You’re one to talk,” Yoongi said.
Jin grinned and turned back to his cooking.
Jimin couldn’t quite figure these two out. There was banter between them, like they knew each other, but their small talk was awkward- way more awkward than Jimin’s time with Yoongi. If he had to choose between the two of them though, he’d say Yoongi was more awkward than Jin.
“I’m confused,” Jimin finally said, not really specifying in what way.
“Most athletes come to school to play their sport, so they don’t often have an idea of what they want to study,” Yoongi explained. “They often end up in kinesiology or athletic therapy like Jin-hyung here.”
“I’m different though,” Jin insisted.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, sipping his wine.
“Athletic medicine ,” he corrected. “Those goons aren’t smart enough to get an MD.”
“How about Joon?”
“He’s a special case. We probably lost the cure for cancer when you convinced him to switch into music production. I don’t know how you live with yourself.”
“You and Namjoon-hyung are both in music production?” Jimin asked, the wine making his questions come easier.
“Yeah. I’m a few classes ahead of him but we work together a lot.”
“What you have to understand, young one,” Jin began, pausing to taste a spoonful of his sauce. “Mm! You have to understand that Namjoon is a literal genius.”
“What?” Jimin glanced over at Namjoon who had given up on the video game and was now trying to wrestle Jungkook and Taehyung apart.
“He had his IQ last tested when he was fourteen, but at the time he was nearly 150.”
“Wow,” Jimin said, amazed.
“So yes, the biotechnology department was certainly sad to see him go.”
“Well, the world will have good music to listen to, at least,” Yoongi grinned, polishing his glass off.
“As if we didn’t already have that with you in the studio.”
“You flatter me,” Yoongi smiled. Jimin couldn’t tell if he was serious or outrageously sarcastic.
“Want to place bets on what Kook will end up studying?” Jin smirked at Yoongi as he refilled both their wine glasses. Jimin quickly sipped his last bit of wine and slid it over to Yoongi for more as well. “This kid can drink, I’m impressed,” Jin added.
Jimin felt his face flush with pride. Though he wasn’t sure if this was something he should be proud of.
“I’m saying psychology,” Jin said.
“Definitely Athletic therapy,” Yoongi put in.
“Dinner and drinks,” Jin offered, holding out his hand.
“Deal.”
Jimin laughed as the two shook on it. He wondered if they were planning to bet on him too when he wasn’t watching. He really had no idea where he saw himself in a few years aside from training, so their guess was probably as good as his.
Jimin leaned forward and clenched his eyes shut, his body propelling forward, almost pulsing as the sweat dripped down the back of his neck. He moaned, biting his tongue to try to keep himself quiet. But it was no use.
He knew the walls were thin; no doubt everyone could hear him.
He couldn’t be bothered though.
He’d made his choice. He hadn’t been rude and now he was paying for it.
He panted hard, his gag reflex engaging once again.
He would have preferred the room dark, but he didnt know it well enough just yet. He had no doubt that he would in due time.
Eyes opening, landing on the porcelain in front of him, it looked like he’d thrown up blood. He knew it was only wine, and he wished to god that his new roommates would attribute any noises they might hear to just that- the alcohol.