Work Text:
From: [email protected]
Subject: fucking essay
jae,
Remember when you told me to write a fucking essay about my sad feelings for jimin hyung, well here you fucking go, enjoy my pain
guk
Park Jimin. That's it, that's the title.
Have you ever lost yourself in someone, so easily and quickly, that you forget you exist and you’re more than just a conscience floating through space, in love and just fucking sad? Have you ever felt like you can’t take it anymore when he smiles and calls your name, makes you feel like you’re on top of the world even though you’re nothing? Have you ever met someone that redefines the meaning of ‘perfection’ even when they’re so flawed that it becomes their beauty? If you have then nice to meet you, you’re in love with Park Jimin just like I am. In the following stupidly long and idiotic essay I will explain why Park Jimin makes me want to die every time he breathes. I will do so by using examples of times when my heart stopped for a second too long and I felt like I was going to pass out. Enjoy.
The day I saw Park Jimin for the first time he was sitting outside the library, laying on his stomach on the garden with the roses and daffodils. He’d been a goddamn wonderful and ethereal sight for someone who had just spent all night finessing the edits on the largest project of the year. I’d had a couple coffees (or six) by then, and Jimin had just been there, reading his book, looking like the prettiest fairy I’d ever seen in my life. Not that I’ve ever seen fairies, but I don’t think any of them can even pretend to reach Park Jimin standards of beauty and grace. I basically dropped my seventh coffee when I saw him, he lifted his eyes in shock and then I fled. Imagine my further embarrassment when Taehyung hyung introduced him to me on the next day and he said, “oh, I remember you! Coffee guy!”
So Park Jimin went from ‘cute fairy boy’ to ‘Taehyung hyung’s cute friend’ and then to ‘guy I really wanna date but can’t talk to cause I’m shy and stupid.’ Jimin, however, for whatever strange reason, seemed determined to get me to call him something other than the awkward, “Park Jimin ssi,” I uttered every time he addressed me, and began random conversations with me. After many small exchanges about coffee and how much we both hate university, he became ‘Jimin hyung, the kindest and most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen in my life.’
And the question is, when did I fall in love with him? The thing is that with Jimin there’s nothing but light and smiles and giggles in the open air, soft hair and flushed cheeks, that cute lisp that makes warmth cover me all over and I just… I don’t know. I could be sappy and say that it was the moment I saw him that clicked something inside me, but my lethargic and sometimes annoying inner voice is yelling that it was the moment Jimin solved a Math problem in front of me for the first time, and I’ll agree.
Don’t blame me for falling for a Mathematics major; he’d looked so confident and excited as he explained the value of X that I’d felt jealous of the tiny letter in the book. I can only dream Jimin finds me as interesting as that problem seemed to be, even though to me it just seemed like a nightmare.
Jimin is so fucking smart and wonderful and I’m always staring at him like he isn’t real, like he’s this mirage that might disappear if I take my eyes away from him for a second. A few weeks into our tentative friendship I saw him dance for the first time and I had a sudden revelation, because of course Park Jimin is multitalented, he’s too bright and unreal to not exceed at everything. He glides through the floor like he isn’t doing the same on my heart, imprinting it with those perfect steps and pirouettes he does to the beat of the music and the palpitations in my chest.
I’ve just thought about a random thing, but I really love when Jimin laughs. He just lets go of all the tight control he always seems to be trying to maintain and laughs with his whole body. He’ll fall into Taehyung hyung sometimes, clutching his hand to his mouth as he tries to stop the giggles but can’t. His body can’t seem to contain his happiness sometimes, and I’m always in the sidelines, hands into fists as I try to abstain myself from reaching out for the sun.
And to be fair, I’m scared because what if I get burned? What if I do reach out only to feel the icy cold rejection instead of the pleasant warmth? Taehyung says Jimin looks at me like I hung the moon but I can’t believe it. Who am I next to Park Jimin, fairy king of the universe, a man who can drink three times as much alcohol as I can, a man with the loveliest singing voice I’ve ever heard, a man who dresses in leggings and crop tops one day and jeans and dress shirts the other?
I’m a nobody, just a film student trying to survive a shitty schedule. But then Jimin will send a text asking where I am and I’ll feel like I’m someone, a person Park Jimin recognises: a friend. And I’m happy just being Jimin’s friend, being by his side and listening to his sweet voice rant about algebra and trigonometry while we’re at Starbucks at dawn. I’ll never pretend to be more than that, not when Jimin has dated Im Jaebum, who is the football team captain, or Bae Jinyoung, who runs the most successful fraternity on campus.
(“Jimin likes you a lot,” Taehyung had said. “He likes you more than any of his exes. That means something.” But does it?)
A few days ago, I almost had a heart attack. Watching Jimin wrap his lips around a lollipop as he concentrated on an essay, watching the pout of his mouth and pinkness of his little tongue had made me squirm in my seat, the air suddenly too hot and suffocating. It’s not like I haven’t thought about Jimin’s hands and lips, his skin on mine and our mingling breaths, but I could write an entire separate essay on that. Right now I’m focusing on the sentiment because I’m tipsy and sad and it’s three in the morning.
I should be writing an essay on film techniques but instead I’m here attempting to paint the visuals of Park Jimin’s existence. There’s no canvas, no paper, no words or watercolors that can capture the way Jimin just seems to make everything appear right in the world. He always has the perfect thing to say, that comforting hand on the shoulder, that warm hug that makes my day.
(“He’s touchy with everyone,” I’d said. “I’m not special.”
“No,” Yoongi hyung had replied. “You’re stupid. And oblivious.”)
And even though Jimin radiates loves and happiness most of the time, he’s also one to fall into moods. Just yesterday he’d snapped at me when I told him I’d been busy doing a project with Kang Seulgi and that’s why we couldn’t meet that day. But I don’t get it, he’d said earlier in the week that he was to have a date that day… maybe it went wrong.
Like I said before, Jimin is perfect in his imperfections, and he’s the most stubborn human being I’ve ever met. He’d refused to let me finish my project until I’d eaten lunch, and then he’d sat down on my laptop to prevent me from stealing it from him. Jimin’s also extremely petty, and didn’t talk to me for a week straight even though he kept tweeting about wanting to go watch the latest Marvel movie and having no one to go with. I hadn’t known he valued the date we’d met so much until he asked and got mad when I failed to remember. Safe to say, I now know the date, the time and the outfit he’d been wearing like the palm of my hand.
But the point is that Jimin is too much. He’s too wonderful, too flawed and too beautiful. He’s specially overwhelming for someone like me who has never been good at making friends and keeping them. Loving him is dizzying enough, even entertaining the idea that Jimin might feel the same makes my stomach tying itself into knots.
The worst thing is that I’m sure Jimin knows how I feel about him. He can definitely see the way I stare at him a little too long, the way I sometimes brush my hand against his, the fond smile that appears on my face every time he giggles at one of Seokjin hyung’s jokes. We’d laid down on my bed once, together, linking pinkies under the blankets as Jimin babbled about music and how Hoseok hyung is in love with Yoongi and they are “idiots, they’re stupid! Yoongi hyung slept with him and yet they haven’t confessed!”
And he’d turned to look at me, hooded eyes, warm breath smelling of bittersweet soju and I’d felt my heart threatening to escape from my ribcage. Jimin had been soft when he’d kissed the corner of my mouth, he’d been gentle when he’d pecked my cheek and hugged me to sleep. And the next day when I woke up and hadn’t found him there I’d just assumed it had been a dream, even though I’d been completely sober and can still feel the plushness of his mouth against my own.
(But Jimin never mentioned it, so I guess that was that.)
I’m sad and tired and really wanna go to sleep even though I fucking love him and I can’t say anything. Did I write anything meaningful? No, but I sure think this weird exercise—is this journaling?—will appease my mind for the time being. Conclusion: Jimin is brilliant, Jimin is everything. I wish I wasn’t such an idiot, I wish I was able to stop these feelings so I don’t have to write another essay like this one. Fuck university. Goodnight.
From: [email protected]
Subject: JAE’S EMAIL IS [email protected] THE DOUBLE J KILLED YOU
Jeongguk, since you decided to send this to me instead of Jae, here’s why your essay sucks:
- You changed tenses a lot
- Thesis statement was weak
- Poetic and biased to a fault
- Informal and too explicit sometimes
Also fucking call me right now, I wanna kiss you really bad and I’m tired of dancing around each other. It’s 4 am but I’m taking a taxi to your apartment. Kick Taehyung out cause I want you to myself right now.
PS. I love you and I’m a jealous fuck
JIMIN
