Archive of Our Own

Jimin thanks the waitress and goes back to the document on his laptop.

He looks at it for a moment, watches the line blink where he left off – unassuming of him, of what words are behind it and what's to follow. He thinks of some metaphor of life, how everyone should live like that, but he doesn't go through with the thought – it's useless anyway. The line's just some pixels on his screen. Nothing more.

Jimin sighs and shakes his head, slightly, left to right, left to right. He reads a few words – "ambitious", "passionate", "interested in your course" – and wonders if it's even worth it. Looks at the minimised command line, wonders if he should just go back to his code and forget about other – stuff. He wonders, thinks, ponders, mulls it over.

He gets back to work and hopes his latte will come soon.

Jimin presses send with a trembling finger and hopes for the best. It's not his only chance, but one he'd do anything to have. One he knows will change something, no matter how little, and a change is all he needs.

He's got the envelope.

It came this morning, right when Jimin was getting ready to leave for work. The post lady handed it to him herself, looked at the title printed on the white of it and smiled up at Jimin, wished him luck with a nod of her head. Jimin thanked her with a thought, then ran to catch the bus.

Now, he's home. Envelope in hand, he can feel his insides churn with nervousness – fear, even. He's not sure what he'll find inside, but he musters up a speck of courage and opens it.

He takes out the letter, takes it in, a little sceptic, doesn't know where to start reading, so he goes for the first row. An address, a name – Korea National University of Arts –, a telephone number. Then, Dear Park Jimin.

Jimin puts the letter down, flattens it on his thighs and breathes in deep, then exhales slowly. He stays with his eyes closed for a minute and tries to convince himself that no matter what's on that page, he's going to be alright, he's going to be happy, he'll manage and he'll be happy. It'll be enough. It must.

With another deep breath, he picks it up again and reads through the lines, looking for an answer – "your application", "happy", "eligible", "accepted in the programme". He stops when he spots it and tries to keep his emotions under control. He tries to keep a straight face, but fails miserably when a smile splits his face in half and a shrill of happiness escapes his throat, when he throws himself back on the loveseat and hugs himself tight, cries a little because he's just so –

Relieved.

He's going to be okay.

-

It's Jimin's first day as an architecture major.

It's a crude understatement to say that Jimin is excited – he's far beyond that, he's exhilarated, utterly combusting with joy at the prospect of finally being back in school to do something that he actually enjoys. His blood is pure adrenaline, the entire maths textbook he's usually got stuffed in his brain lost in nothingness. Jimin is a free man, ready to take on the world again, to take another chance.

And he's not disappointed. He spends most of his day looking for places he's got to be, but he considers it part of the experience. Seeing all the students around him swarm with the same excitement, though a few years younger, fills him with a homey sense of belonging. It's all one big gulp of happiness for him.

Especially since he's signed his resignation today.

-

'Alright, class, my name’s Kim Mijin and I’ll be your structural design teacher this year. We’ve got a lot of stuff to do, but let's get to know each other a little bit better first, shall we?' says the teacher – a woman probably in her late twenties, just like Jimin, but she sounds wiser. Sure of herself, warm, welcoming. 'I think it's best if we just say a little about ourselves to the others, right? Something we're comfortable sharing,' she nods.

Jimin can't help but nod back. He looks around and sees the others do the same – nod and look around, a lost sense to their eyes. Jimin smiles, looks back at the teacher, sees her taking them in with a close stare. He raises his open palm in the air, something between a wave and something else, and waits for her attention to shift to his place in the back.

Her eyes glint when she spots him. 'Right, thank you! Please, your name and a little something,' she laughs, almost nervous. Jimin wonders if she feels the same – a little scared, excited, all sorts of jumpy. He guesses she must be.

He waits for all the eyes to turn on him before he smiles. It's a little unnerving, how everyone's watching him in silence, but he tries to brush it off and clears his throat. 'Hello,' he begins, small. He gets back a smile or two, a little courage along the way. 'I'm Jimin, I'm 28 years old and I have a double degree in math and applied computer science,' he shrugs.

A few pairs of eyes widen here and there, so his smile grows. 'I'm here to try again, though, with something I hope I'll love more,' he finishes and looks back at the teacher. She's smiling back at him, a stretched grin that makes Jimin feel adequate, and not some weirdo that doesn't fit in.

'Thank you, Jimin. Someone else?'

-

Jimin's been okay lately.

More okay than he thought he'd be. He's doing fine with money, he's made friends on campus, has managed to visit home last weekend. It hit him like a brick to be back home, to see the worry in his parents' eyes because "Jimin-ah, you're sure what you're doing is good for you?" It was hard not to burst into tears on the spot, harder to tell them that "Yes, it's fine – maybe not what I should do, but what I want to do."

But he managed. He's managing. He'll manage.

Nonetheless, the course isn't easy, regardless of the months of preparation he did. It didn't take him much to realise he still had a lot to brush up on, a lot more to learn and do. He is still eager, though – eager to succeed, to prove himself right, to prove the world wrong. He is fine, he will be fine.

Jimin sometimes wonders if he's come to lie to himself. He hopes it’s not the case.

He's not worried about that yet, though – it's just a fleeting thought that comes and goes, he's just wondering. An espresso cup in his hand, a handful of mini-croissants in front of him, alongside his laptop, he's just wondering. Working on an essay, he's just wondering.

Jimin's watching the rain pitter on the café's window when he hears someone clearing their throat in front of him. He looks up, startled, means to ask what's wrong, opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He doesn't know what he could say.

In front of him, there's a man, somewhat his age, a little taller, broader maybe, with warm chestnut hair and glasses with thin, marbled straps, a soft smile in the corner of his lips. He's beautiful, breath-taking, so much like everything Jimin's ever dreamt before, just standing there, one hand resting on the backrest of the chair, smiling.

Jimin is speechless.

'Sorry, er, the café's full, can I sit with you?' the stranger asks, and Jimin nods before he can even fully comprehend the question. His eyes are surely wide as plates, but the man doesn't seem to mind – instead, his smile just widens, his lips forming a "thank you". Jimin's pretty sure he's seen an angel.

He quickly closes his mouth when the stranger throws him an amused look, chuckles slightly under his breath. Jimin shakes his head, looks down into his laptop, takes a sip of his espresso. Unable to resist, he moves his eyes to where the man is still smiling and loses himself in his eyes for just a moment.

And what pretty eyes they are.

'I'm Kim Taehyung,' the stranger says when Jimin's sure it's been more than a moment. 'I teach story-telling at the uni', he adds and extends his hand for Jimin to shake, which finally puts Jimin in action.

He nods and quickly takes Taehyung's hand in a firm shake. 'I'm Park Jimin, architecture student. Nice to meet you,' he stammers, voice slightly off-pitch. He coughs to mask it, hoping to be able to blame it on a cold – Taehyung's got a glimmer in his eyes that tells Jimin he doesn't really have a chance.

'It’s nice meeting you too, Jimin-ssi,' Taehyung nods politely, then frowns. 'Your name sounds familiar,' he musters. 'Have we met before?'

"Pretty sure I wouldn't forget that face," Jimin jokes in his head. 'I don't think so,' he tells Taehyung, shrugs with a small smile. 'Maybe someone mentioned me, or you've seen my name in some uni papers?' he suggests, trying to keep the conversation alive, to continue hearing Taehyung's voice – smooth, velvety, safe.

Jimin can almost see the cogs turn inside Taehyung’s head – they're pretty, golden cogs with dainty teeth that round slightly at the edges. Then, his eyes light up and he makes a small sound that has Jimin's lips spring into a smile instantly. 'Yes, Mijin told me about you, told me you've got a degree in math or, or coding, something –'

'Both,' Jimin supplies.

'Both, wow,' Taehyung beams appreciatively, and Jimin can feel pride fill his chest. 'That's so amazing, Jimin-ssi,' Taehyung nods, says it like it's nothing, like he's not triggering a landmine of delight in Jimin's entire being. 'So, architecture – why?'

Jimin falters in his enthusiasm, just a little. He feels a sour tinge at the corner of his lips, the beginnings of a grimace, but he does his best to mask it with a chuckle. 'It's, er – just something I've wanted to do,' he shrugs, tries to play it off as nothing. He knows Taehyung notices, can see it in his eyes, but Jimin doesn't elaborate.

Taehyung nods, a little apologetic. His fingers twitch, almost like he'd want to reach out – Jimin wonders what holding his hand is like, but doesn't act on it either. It'd be weird, it'd be awkward. They don't know each other – that's not their step to take.

So, he just nods. 'So, story-telling,' he tries again, mimicking Taehyung's approach. He gets a small nod in response, a little grin – he knows satisfaction when he sees it. 'You write, or do coaches never play?' Jimin asks with a laugh.

Taehyung's grin widens at the small joke, lets Jimin slip the sour mood under it. 'I used to write poems,' he shrugs. 'Some sonnets, an ode. I started a novel once but I lost inspiration.'

Jimin hums and bites a croissant. He motions for Taehyung to take one too, and watches as the man happily pops one in his mouth. 'What was it about?' he asks offhandedly.

Taehyung shrugs. 'A second chance,' he says cryptically, makes Jimin frown. Taehyung seems to sense his bewilderment, so he continues, 'Basically, this old man loses his wife, then his son, so he adopts a stray cat that sort of hates him. I got to the part where she brought him a half-dead bird, then ran away from home because he buried it in the garden.'

Jimin laughs, a little surprised, and eyes Taehyung incredulously. 'Why'd she get so offended?'

Taehyung laughs too, then shrugs again. 'Read somewhere that cats can get angry if you don't treasure their gifts like they want you to. And they technically want you to eat it, so,' he explains with mirth, fuelling Jimin's giggles.

'Still, it sounds a little sad,' Jimin comments when he's done with laughing. He lifts the cup to his lips to take a sip, but realises it's empty. Looking back at Taehyung, he finds him looking out of the window, a little nostalgic.

Jimin's waving at a waiter when Taehyung speaks up again. 'It's meant to. I was having some problems explaining sadness as a concept to a class, so I needed some way of translating it into something they understand. I'm teaching story-telling, so I figured that'd be the best way to go around it,' he explains.

Jimin opens his mouth to answer, to ask another question, but the waiter asks for their order and he's stuck asking for another espresso. Taehyung orders a liquorice tea and somehow manages to make it sound like he's asking for gold and rubies – precious, sophisticated. Jimin wonders how he does that.

When the waiter leaves, Taehyung turns back to Jimin and catches him staring. Jimin's quick to avert his eyes, frantic to cover up his awe with a question – 'D-did they get it in the end?'

Taehyung smiles coyly, a bit mirthful. 'Sure thing,' he nods. 'I didn't beat ten middle-aged women to the job to be a bad teacher,' he laughs, loud and sincere, and Jimin feels himself follow suit with a giggle on his own.

'Impressive, Taehyung-ssi,' he guffaws, tries to cover his mouth with his hand. 'What exactly do you teach in a story-telling course? I mean, why's it separated from just a normal writing course?'

Taehyung cracks his knuckles with a mysterious smile. 'Well, I'm glad you asked, Jimin-ssi,' he chuckles – Jimin can't help a laugh that escapes his lips, but that only seems to spur Taehyung on. 'Story-telling is the art of turning even the most boring of scenes into a masterpiece. Take, for example, our conversation here – it's a little bland, a lot less awkward than it should be, might lead to something in the future, but at the current time, it's not much.'

Jimin frowns the slightest bit, wondering if Taehyung thinks he's boring. A second take at the man's face and he's got his answer – he's too invested in Jimin to be bored. It makes Jimin smile.

'And yet,' Taehyung continues, 'have the right story-teller – not writer, but story-teller – and they will turn this into everything you've ever dreamt of, the picture-perfect meeting of two fated souls. It's not a plot device, no – that's dumb, so no. It's just looking for the right things – the look on your face when I sat down, how I've been staring at your rings for 10 minutes but you didn't notice. The fact that the café's almost empty, but you didn't even check when I asked to sit down.'

Jimin gasps softly and looks around. Indeed, the café's empty save for a couple sharing a milkshake at the bar. His eyes are wide when he looks back at Taehyung and finds him smiling, happy, almost manic, but just as pretty. Jimin knows he's not to blame for not checking if the damn café is full or not – just look at that face, really.

He doesn't tell Taehyung that, though. Instead, he saves it for another time and just shakes his head and sighs.

'You got me there, Taehyung-ssi.'

-

'Thank you, Miss,' Jimin bows and smiles at the lady behind the counter, who smiles back. 'I promise I'll be back until 5.'

'Sure, Jimin,' the lady says, bobbling her head in a way that would make Jimin laugh if he wasn't so grateful.

It's been a week since Jimin's class visited the library's dome to take notes on acoustics, and Jimin's been itching to go again ever since. Today, he managed to gather the courage to ask the librarian for the key to the dome – and luck seemed to side with him on this one.

Jumpy with excitement, Jimin exits the study room and goes straight for a nondescript corner where the door's disclosed by a pillar. He unlocks it with reverence and starts going up the circular stairs, trying to slow down so he doesn't get dizzy – nevertheless, it's safe to say he doesn't manage.

He's panting slightly when he reaches the first level of the dome. Still, he pushes the other key into the lock and – it's open.

It's open?

Jimin frowns and opens the door slowly, with apprehension. He pokes his head in and looks around, tries to spot the culprit – there's no one. His eyes trail up and to the left, where another sweeping staircase gives way into the second level.

Jimin sighs and fully enters the room, then starts a trek up the stairs – these ones are even more abrupt, metal ones that creak under his feet. He knows they're announcing his arrival to whoever's up there without permission, but there's not much he can do about it. So, he continues, until he reaches the second-to-last level.

There's no one here either, but one of the all-around windows is open, so someone was. Jimin walks into the middle of the room and spins a few times, taking in the city laid at his feet – the dome seems even higher up than it was last time, the horizon for Jimin to see. It's hypnotising in a way, both the sight and the dizziness spinning his head.

He throws a last glance at the low-shining sun, takes in the swarm of colours all around it, preparing for night-time. He closes his eyes and sighs once, then opens them again and turns to walk towards the last flight of stairs.

When he climbs up to the last room, he mostly expects to see one of the students working at the library taking a nap, or a cat that one of the librarians let in against all policies. What he definitely doesn't expect to see is Kim Taehyung sitting cross-legged, leaning on the wall under an open window, a lit joint between his fingers.

Jimin stops dead in his tracks, almost missing the last step, and his jaw drops. Taehyung's looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights, bloodshot eyes staring back at Jimin – through Jimin – like he's seen a ghost. Judging by the way his fingers shake around the joint, maybe he did.

Jimin clears his throat with a hand to his mouth, tries to think of something smart to say, but all that comes out is a strangled "Taehyung". It startles Taehyung a little, what with the echo reverberating off the walls, and his gaze finally focuses better on Jimin's face. For a moment, silence, nothing happens, and then –

'Jiminie,' Taehyung sleazes, smirks like a madman and spreads his arms, as if inviting Jimin for a hug. 'I thought you were one of the janitors or something, oh God, I thought I was going to get fired,' he laughs, way too relaxed, but it still tears a giggle from Jimin's throat.

Jimin's met Taehyung a few times since their first encounter at the café, mostly on uni halls and whenever Jimin got too early to his design class and caught Taehyung getting out of his own class. How unintentional that was, it was up to debate, but Jimin chose not to ponder it too much.

Instead, he goes for a smile and a wave, a tentative walk until the tips of his boots touch Taehyung's own bare ones. 'What are you doing here, Taehyung-ah,' he laughs and shakes his head. 'It's freezing, put on some socks, please.'

Taehyung just laughs and shakes his head. 'I'm too strong for socks, Jimin-ah,' he drawls, puts the joint to his lips and inhales. Jimin wonders where he got it from, how often he does this. Why he does it here, barefoot and risking his job, instead of doing it at home. Jimin doesn't pry, though.

Instead, he leans down and touches Taehyung's feet, sees him tense up. 'Tae, your feet are going on negative Kelvin,' he laughs and massages the arch of one of them, feels it relax. 'Put your shoes back on, alright?'

He sees Taehyung mull it over for a moment, then nod in defeat. 'When you ask so nicely, Jimin-ah,' he snickers and extends the joint towards Jimin. A little dumbfounded, Jimin takes the stick and watches Taehyung grab his boots from beside him – they're a little worn out, a lot pretty with a raised sole.

He lets Taehyung put them on and trails his eyes back to the joint subtly smoking in his hand. He's holding it askew, not sure how he should go around it, if he wants to try or not, if he should even think about it in the first place.

'Want to try?' Taehyung's voice, doubled with the echo, startles Jimin enough to almost make him drop the joint. He turns his eyes towards Taehyung and opens his mouth, gapes like a fish for a few seconds, before Taehyung bursts into laughter again and goes back to tying his shoelaces. 'If you want to, you can, Jimin-ah.'

Jimin nods, still speechless, and looks back at the joint – he must admit, it's quite pretty, wrapped in glossy paper and smoking softly at the top, smelling exotic. Jimin's not sure it should, but Taehyung looks alright, so he figures it's okay, it won't kill him. Maybe it's spice, or essential oils – are those fine to smoke? Would they enter his body if he did? Would they hurt him, or –

'Jimin-ah, I can hear you thinking from over here,' Taehyung notes, and Jimin startles, realises he's right. He tears his eyes away from the stick and looks back at Taehyung, who's smiling softly – it makes his heart clench. 'If you want to try, don't overthink it. And if you don't, it's alright, no one's putting pressure on you, okay?'

Jimin nods and goes to sit down next to Taehyung. 'I'm more used to overthinking than anything else,' he laughs, a bit bitter, and shuffles some more to mush his shoulder into Taehyung's. 'Now, tell me how this works.'

Taehyung bursts into laughter – it's cute if Jimin has any word in it. 'Just put it in your mouth and smoke it like a normal cigarette,' he shrugs.

Jimin can feel his hands start to shake – he's not sure if it's because of the cold, or just a sign of nervousness. 'I haven't smoked before,' he says truthfully and shrugs in response.

Taehyung hums, then gently takes the joint from Jimin's hand. 'Watch me,' says – whispers – and Jimin nods.

Taehyung brings the stick to his mouth and purses his lips around it – it looks both sexy and funny, and Jimin's not sure which to choose, so he smiles and tries to suppress a laugh. He keeps watching Taehyung as he breathes in, then releases the joint and opens his mouth a little, probably to show Jimin the smoke gathered inside it before he breathes in again, but –

Jimin's brain fries itself before he can understand much, because wow, he never expected to feel so much just from seeing someone's mouth filled with smoke. He wonders if it's kinky – or maybe he's just weird? Oh, no, he's overthinking again, isn't he? Or –

'Jiminie, you're doing it again,' Taehyung laughs on the exhale, blows the smoke square in Jimin's face. Startled, Jimin nods.

'I, uh, so, inhale in mouth, inhale again, exhale?' he blabbers, too aware of how much of a nervous wreck he is – does it bother Taehyung? He hopes not. Taehyung's nodding and smiling, so maybe not. Hopefully.

Shaking his head again, Jimin wills himself to relax. He's not sure why he even got anxious in the first place, but it's not important. Slowly, he takes the joint from Taehyung and brings it to his lips, then inhales.

The smoke fills his mouth, and it's a weird feeling, so he wiggles his tongue, tries to taste it – gets a hint of pineapple mixed with herbal tea, the one you'd drink if you had a cold. Puzzled, he opens his mouth again and inhales.

His eyes water instantly, but he doesn't get the urge to cough, so he's thankful for that, at least. He leaves the smoke in for a little, then feels Taehyung tap his fingers on his thigh and exhales.

For a moment, it's silent, then Jimin feels the hit start to work its so-called magic – it's still silent, but his butt suddenly isn't on the floor anymore and his head is spinning. He looks towards Taehyung, wide-eyed, and sees the man smile back at him with mischief. 'What're you looking at?'

Taehyung only laughs and takes the stick from Jimin's shaky fingers. 'That's enough for you, virgin,' he snorts and bumps Jimin's shoulder as much as he can from his position. Indignant, Jimin scoffs, but he'll give it to Taehyung – one hit was enough to buzz his head, he's not in for any more.

'Do you come here often?' he asks after a moment, turning his head away from Taehyung. Jimin hears him hum in approval, so he continues, 'how'd you deal with the echo?'

Taehyung hums again, although a little questioning. 'It calms me down, I guess,' he shrugs and leans his head on Jimin's shoulder.

Jimin turns his head again to peer down at Taehyung, watches him take a slow drag and close his eyes. He looks serene, peaceful, not quite like Jimin imagined a stoner would look like, but nonetheless, pretty. Jimin wonders if Taehyung feels like that too – if, on the inside, he's the same soft-spoken but goofy teacher that smokes weed on uni grounds and flirts with "old" students on campus.

"That hit really did me good, heh," he laughs in his head, a little uneasy.

'Jimin-ah,' Taehyung suddenly pipes up, startling Jimin for the nth time. He chuckles before continuing, 'there was this guy, from Europe, or – Romania, maybe? Anyway, besides the point, but he said that it's much easier to write prettily than have a good plot. No, than saying something – I think that was it.'

He makes a pause after that, and Jimin can't keep a laugh from escaping his throat. 'Why're you thinking about that, Taehyung-ah?' he inquires, smiling dumbly at the ceiling and letting the echo reverberate through him.

Taehyung hums, lifts his head from Jimin's shoulder – his neck cracks, so he moves a hand to massage it. 'I was curious what you think,' he mumbles, almost a little shy. Jimin lifts his legs to his chest and rests his head on the tops of his knees, thoughtful.

'I'm guessing you're with him on this one,' he ponders – Taehyung shrugs, then looks away to stub the joint out. 'I think he's right for the most part, at least for me. Lately, there's a shift towards pretty words in literature, right? Everyone can write poetry if they read the dictionary.'

Taehyung laughs and his eyes crinkle up – it's breath-taking for Jimin's still hazy brain. His cheeks feel hot when he turns his head and drops his chin in-between his knees, focuses on a speck on the floor near the tips of his boots. Jimin wonders what's got into him – he's not sure he can answer.

Taehyung's laughter eventually dies down – Jimin sort of wishes it didn't. Then, he speaks, and Jimin figures that's just as good, his voice just as smooth as his laugh, just as captivating. 'Isn't it human nature to worship the pretty, though? Just like moths do with light, we're always following what catches our eyes. We're monopolisers of preciousness, in a way,' he laughs.

Jimin gets the sense that Taehyung's got his eyes on him, and he's not sure how to feel about it – scared, happy, terrified, exhilarated? On the spur of the moment, he turns towards Taehyung, locks their eyes and sees the smile on his face, small and longing, yearnful.

Jimin swallows his own spit, a mix of emotions in his gut brewing discomfort and a sudden urge to kiss Taehyung. The echo of it is barely there, but it rings loud in Jimin's ears, and he wonders what's got into him, again. He can't come up with a coherent answer, so he just looks down, cheeks aflame, breath stuck in his throat.

Time stalls for a moment, and then Taehyung reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small tin box. 'Want to try another joint?' he asks Jimin, voice light. Jimin nods and tries to calm his racing heart.

After that, they meet up once a week to smoke. Jimin takes it easy, only a few drags each time, but soon gets comfortable and goes for more and more, until he's got his own joint and a cloudy mind every time.

He's not sure he should be doing this, with a professor out of all people and on school grounds. He's not sure it's good for his productivity, or for his health. He's not sure it's good for him, Park Jimin, hard-worker and tame human being, to smoke weed on weekdays and enjoy it as much as he does.

He reassures himself that it's not the smoking that he enjoys so much, though – rather, that it's Taehyung's presence that calms him down and puts a big smile on his face. He's the one that tells Jimin jokes and makes him choke on his spit with laughter, the one that turns his heart into the world’s most renowned acrobat, the one who introduces Jimin to foot massages – God's actual gift to humanity.

And maybe he gets more comfortable as time passes. He begins to understand Taehyung's ramblings about Romanian misogynistic writers and how they had the purest narrative in the entire Europe even if they sucked. Or his knack for taking metaphors out of context to explain Jimin the art of word tomfoolery, as he likes to call it. He starts to thrive on Taehyung's meaningful looks, on his pretty hands that work wonders on Jimin's feet, on his quirky fashion sense that makes Jimin think he’s falling in love with a futuristic librarian.

And maybe he's getting too comfortable around Taehyung – too happy, too dependent. Maybe he starts to shoot Taehyung the same yearnful glances and finds solace in holding his hand on cold November afternoons.

Maybe. But Jimin's in too deep to back off now. And maybe he's not at all bothered by this whole clusterfuck.

-

It's almost Christmas.

For the first time, Jimin's decided he's not spending the holidays with his family – not his parents, not his brother, not his aunt from Jeju that's got a serious problem with firecrackers. Since he has already turned each aspect of his life upside-down and to the left, he figures it’s time to let go of family holidays too.

Not that he'd miss them too much, even less now that his family are looking down on him with pity in their eyes. It's better to stay in his apartment and go to the uni's Christmas and New Eve's parties and drink booze with some of his colleagues and be really chill about it. It's better to stick to this new-found normality that he feels welcomed in.

So, after mulling over the problem for some time, he shoots his family a half-assed apology and opens up amazon to find some good deals on Christmas lights and a fun-sized tree.

On the last day of uni, he bumps into Taehyung on his way home.

They're both bundled up in thick parkas and fluffy scarves, so Jimin shouting "Tae" at a half-human, half-winter-clothing figure is no more than a shot in the dark. For a second, he thinks he got the wrong person and shame fills him whole, from his toes up to his duckling beanie, but then –

The figure turns and it's Taehyung and he's happily waving towards Jimin, also shouting "Jimmy" at the top of his lungs. Jimin can feel his heart do somersaults in his chest but tries to ignore the feeling so he can act like a functioning human being – it's unlikely he'll succeed.

Still, he walks closer as Taehyung walks closer too – they meet in the middle with flushed cheeks and small clouds for breaths. Jimin can see Taehyung smile even though his scarf is pulled up to his nose – his eyes are curved and full of warmth, making it even harder for Jimin to concentrate on anything else.

'I-I,' Taehyung starts, shivers in the middle of it, 'I have a class in, like, five minutes,' he confesses. Jimin can feel the disappointment in Taehyung's voice, in himself, but tries not to show it. Instead, he nods and smiles some more, so much that his eyes close completely.

'I'm going home now,' he shrugs, as much as he can in his parka. 'Are you coming to the party on Christmas' eve?'

He hopes for a yes and gets it. 'Yeah, I got a ticket last week,' Taehyung nods. 'I'll see you there?'

Jimin bounces on his feet and nods enthusiastically. 'Definitely.'

When he gets back home some twenty minutes later, Jimin is still buzzing with excitement, so he makes himself some tea and puts on a movie – anything to calm the jitter in his stomach. Needless to say, he doesn't manage.

And he's not sure why – why he's in such a frenzy to be near Taehyung, when the prospect of the man's affection used to scare him shitless. Why he got so happy when he saw Taehyung in the freezing air, bundled up in his coat and scarf. Why he's questioning himself so much when it should be simple. Why, why, why?

-

Jimin still doesn't know but now's not the time to question it either.

He's propped up on one of the steps of the lecture hall, watching the ceiling lights flicker sporadically with the storm outside – a little scary, but a whole lot interesting. Taehyung's sitting cross-legged beside him, one of Jimin's socked foot in his lap while he works his so-called magic.

It's been some thirty minutes since they escaped the Christmas party, already a little tipsy – read, a lot –, giggly and ready to enjoy themselves away from Kylie Minogue's calls for Santa Baby. Since then, they've fought the urge to roll some joints from Taehyung's tin box, on the premise that Jimin spotted a smoke alarm when they entered the hall. He hasn't managed to find it again, but it's better to be safe than sorry, right?

Right.

'Can't we just sneak inside the dome, Jimin-ah?' Taehyung drawls and presses a little too hard in-between Jimin's metatarsals. Jimin finally lifts his head from the chair he was leaning it on and throws Taehyung an ambiguous stare, something between foolish adoration and mild discomfort.

Slowly, he switches his foot for his other one in Taehyung's lap. 'It's cold there, Tae,' he whines and leans his head back on the chair with the ease of a drunk man. His head is spinning and he'd kill for a joint right now, but the prospect of losing his fingers to the cold is enough to kick in his common sense. The lecture hall is fine, just alcohol is fine, a foot massage is fine.

Taehyung grumbles something about how Jimin is an avocado – not the best insult, but it makes Jimin giggle, so it works just fine. Jimin doesn't bother answering, instead lets Taehyung's subtle ministrations on his foot lull him into a relaxed state, half-drunk, half-asleep, somewhere in the middle. It's lazy, he knows, and there's an itch under his skin that tells him he should do something while he's got Taehyung with him, that he won't see Taehyung again soon and that he should do something about it.

And yet, Jimin can only look at the ceiling with droopy eyes, admire the subtle pattern of the flickering lights, wonder wonder wonder about Taehyung and him and him and Taehyung and how drunk he still is and how he still wants that joint. He can only think about how much his heart flutters lately, and how he's never had any heart problems, so Taehyung's got to be the only one to blame in this equation.

He can only ponder his own feelings, how he's not sure of where it's all going – whether he and Taehyung are meant to fall in love, or Jimin's just wishful and delusional and foolish to think anything can lead to anywhere. He can only damn his feelings – vague, empty feelings that don't have a root nor flowers, just vines curling around Jimin's heart with thorns that feel like Taehyung's smile.

He can only try to understand that he's really just a little, maybe, a tad, a slim bit enamoured with Taehyung, and that he'd love to take a step and skip to that soulmate's fated destiny that Taehyung babbled about when they first met at the cafe.

Jimin's really confused is all. Also, he wants to cry a little, then blame it on Taehyung's massage so he doesn't have to confess and step into unknown territory. Really, he wants to blame it all on Taehyung, all the mess in his life that revolves around one sophisticated professor that loves to rant about obscure literature on late weekdays.

Jimin's never been good with feelings, sticky situations or alcohol, so to Hell with it all.

Jimin's not even aware he's tearing up when he feels Taehyung's hands on his cheeks, hands which have previously been on his socks but feel just as warm and caring nonetheless. 'Jimin-ah, what happened, why are you crying?'

Jimin feels a sob climb up his throat and before he can swallow it back down, he curls in on himself and lets it escape. His throat is tight when he tries to draw in a deep breath – he fails, shaking with more sobs, and Taehyung is looking at him almost scared, worried, desperate.

'Jimin-ah, please, calm down, talk to me, please,' he's babbling, still drunk but trying to stop Jimin's tears and sobs and panic from flowing through his veins. Jimin’s a little frozen, a lot surprised, so he tries to cover his face with his hands and wipe his tears, but Taehyung catches his wrists before he can.

Jimin suddenly becomes aware of how close Taehyung is, kneeling beside him and with his face less than a foot away from Jimin's own red and blotchy one. He's staring Jimin down with soft affection in his eyes, and Jimin's hit with how gentle Taehyung is around him at all times, how he'd probably understand Jimin's stormy musings about his own feelings and make him feel better about it all with just his presence.

So, Jimin takes his chance and closes the gap between them, places a small, feather-light peck on Taehyung's perpetually-rosy lips with utmost care and stays there for a moment, really feels it to his bones. He ghosts his thumbs over Taehyung's cheekbones and feels how hot they are under his touch, tender and smooth and probably as rosy as his lips.

Jimin pulls away slowly, carefully, not regretting it but scared of Taehyung's reaction. He blinks once, twice, then focuses on Taehyung's features and tries a smile, a teary one that mirrors on the other's face. 'Jimin-ah,' Taehyung whispers and Jimin shakes his head and puts his fingers over Taehyung's lips.

He shushes him and whispers, "it's alright, Tae-ah, you don't have to say anything if you don't want to, I understand," then pulls him into a tight hug and burrows his nose in the crook of his neck. Taehyung returns the hug, snakes his arms around Jimin's waist up to his shoulders and pulls him close, kisses the side of Jimin's head with care.

They stay like this for a moment, and then Taehyung backs away slowly, takes Jimin's face into his hands and smiles, wide, happy, incomprehensible for Jimin's fried brain. 'Jimin-ah,' he tries again, 'it's okay, I want to – to say something, to, er, do something,' he laughs and pecks Jimin's lips himself with a smile still on his face, giggly and it all feels like a dream.

Jimin doesn't back away, instead keeps the kiss for as much as he can, yearning for the contact and the peace. He finds himself smiling too, a little dopey with happiness because "what the hell just happened?"

“What the hell is happening?”

He leaves the wondering for some other time, though, wants to let himself enjoy it for now. Drunk or not, he wants to remember this even if it might not be there tomorrow, even if he's just Taehyung's drunken mistake or his own jumbled feelings acting up.

Jimin wants to.

-

Jimin's wondering what the hell happened.

He's at that one cafe on campus, but without his laptop or Taehyung. It's just him, and he's thinking, trying to find a thread of hope or certainty in all the mess that went down last night.

After the kissing happened, took place, existed in this feasible reality, Jimin has just a cloudy memory of what happened – Taehyung got a call from his grandmother and had to wish her Merry Christmas, then the others found them in the lecture hall and moved the party to where they were. When they left at some ungodly hour after having drunk some more, Taehyung slipped Jimin his phone number scribbled on a joint paper, then Jimin knows he got back home. Not how he managed, just that he did.

Now, he's somehow put-together but still hungover, nursing his liquorice tea – which he's come to love after Taehyung introduced him to it – and he's wondering.

It's weird to think about it, because, without the influence of alcohol, it all seems simpler and more complicated at the same time. Jimin somewhat confessed, Taehyung reciprocated his feelings – but also, it could've just been the alcohol that pushed him in that direction, or Jimin's breakdown and some misplaced guilt. Or Taehyung really felt something for him.

"Sounds fake but okay."

Jimin's also wondering about his own feelings which still aren't clear. He knows he gravitates towards Taehyung in all aspects – he's Jimin's best friend, he's attractive, he's caring, he understands Jimin like no one else. And maybe Jimin knows he wants him, wants to get close, to have him like he’s had no one, but he’s scared to admit it. He’s scared because he’s used to feeling a little inadequate, a little out of place – his first two degrees, his first job, they made him feel like he wasn’t supposed to fit.

And then he got admitted to university again, and Taehyung came about, and Jimin felt overwhelmed – still feels. And it’s hard to get used to all this affection and closeness when all he knew were mild discomfort and dissatisfaction.

But Taehyung is patient – he seems willing to let Jimin sort his feelings out before he takes him in and tries to help him in any way he can. And Jimin wants to let him, wants to let himself go and wants to let Taehyung take care of him so bad. Even if he’s scared, he wants to at least try.

-

It’s New Year’s Eve and Jimin’s waiting.

He’s got the countdown playing on his TV, a habit he picked up from his mom, and he’s waiting for the year to end – or to start. He’s sipping chamomile tea from his favourite mug, because his attempt at making hot chocolate failed and it’s the only acceptable beverage he’s got in the house. He’s sighing every five minutes because he’s alone and doesn’t even have fireworks because he forgot to buy them.

Truly, Jimin’s a sad lady with seven cats but without the cats – he really wishes he had the cats.

It’s after his nth sigh that he decides it’s time to do something to get himself out of this never-ending loop of pouting and drinking sad tea. So, he picks up his phone from the coffee table and opens Taehyung’s contact that he’s had saved since the party. Then, he waits some more.

Realistically, he can’t be waiting for a message or a call because Taehyung doesn’t have his phone number – only Jimin does, and that’s about as useless as a peephole on a glass door. Jimin’s scared and overwhelmed and perpetually full of questions that don’t have answers, so of course he’s not going to send anything. It’s not his job as a slightly-emotionally-constipated programmer.

But it’s his job as a trying-to-do-better-in-life architecture student with a crush, so Jimin sighs again and types the message he’s had in his phone’s clipboard for a week already – “Hi, Taehyung, this is Jimin!”. Simple, concise, straight to the subject – just like he likes it. And yet, it doesn’t sit right with Jimin.

Jimin’s not a great texter, and he’s not sure about Taehyung either – he seems the type of person that doesn’t correct his typos. And calling him is a brooding prospect that would probably end up with Jimin crying.

“Actually, you know what? Fuck it. YOLO.”

And Jimin presses call.

After only two rings, the dial connects and Jimin hears Taehyung’s voice. ‘Hello?’

Jimin breathes in deep once, twice before he answers. ‘Hi, Tae, it’s me, Jimin,’ he greets, a little high-pitched because he’s nervous, but it’s alright. Jimin hears Taehyung gasp on the other end of the line, and he smiles, hopes it’s a good gasp.

‘Jimin-ah, you called,’ Taehyung exclaims, and Jimin hears the sound of a cup hitting glass – a table, probably. ‘I’m so glad you called, er, happy almost new year,’ he laughs, and Jimin melts at the sound, one he’s missed.

‘Happy new year, Tae,’ he chuckles in response. He opens his mouth to add something, anything, but nothing comes out – he doesn’t know what to say, what to do, he doesn’t even know why he called in the first place. Oh, god, what is he doing? He’s going to make a fool out of himself if he doesn’t come up with something soon, and Taehyung’s silent too and –

Taehyung clears his throat and hums into the receiver – Jimin hears it so close to his ear, it’s almost intimate. ‘What are you doing, Jimmy?’ he asks, effortless, relaxed, how Jimin should be too. Jimin takes another deep breath and tries to calm himself down before responding. Taehyung is a good small-and-big-talker, Jimin can trust him.

‘I’m home alone, just – waiting, I guess,’ he shrugs and picks up his tea. He takes a small sip, and then, ‘You?’

Taehyung makes a noncommittal sound, and Jimin can mentally see him shrugging too. ‘I’m reading a book one of my students recommended me – it’s weird as hell.’ Jimin makes a small “oh” and Taehyung continues, ‘I’m only on the first pages, so I guess it’ll get better.’

Jimin mumbles an “aha”, then silence falls again, so he curls in himself con the couch. He’d kill for some cuddles right now, and he’s itching to tell Taehyung that – that he’d want a joint and a hug and maybe another kiss and even another story about lesson plans. He’s scared of acting too entitled or demanding, though, so he doesn’t say it. Just keeps his mouth shut and waits, like he’s used to doing.

When Taehyung clears his throat again, Jimin springs to attention. ‘Jimin-ah, I was thinking,’ Taehyung starts, and Jimin nods uselessly, a bit too enthusiastically. ‘Do you want to meet up somewhere? Or I could come over, just, er, so we don’t have to spend New Year’s alone.’

For a second, Jimin’s brain goes blank, then goes haywire, then stabilises, and Jimin manages to start nodding again, even more enthusiastic. ‘Definitely, yeah, I’ll message you my address now, alright?’

Taehyung laughs, maybe because of Jimin, maybe because he’s just happy. ‘Yea, alright.’

-

When Jimin hears the doorbell ring, he all but busts his kneecap getting up from the couch.

Alas, he gets to the door – stumbling, but in record time – and opens the door with a grin. ‘Taehyung-ah!’ he exclaims and draws the man in a hug, one that Taehyung readily accepts. Jimin burrows his nose in the shoulder of his coat, breathing in a mixed smell of chicken and cinnamon – an interesting combination, to say the least.

‘Jimin-ah,’ Taehyung greets, a little quiet, a little personal – Jimin likes the sound of it. ‘I brought chicken and cinnamon buns.’

“So that’s the source of the smell.”

‘That’s great, Tae,’ Jimin laughs and retreats from the hug. Taehyung drags his arms from his shoulders and holds his elbows when Jimin takes a step back, keeping him there with a small smile. Jimin opens his mouth to speak, to invite Taehyung in the living room, but Taehyung just leans in and steals a peck off his lips, effectively plunging Jimin’s train of thought into nothingness.

“Shit, what did I get myself into.”

It’s been some time. Jimin doesn’t know how much, how little, doesn’t know if it’s past midnight or not, just knows that he’s smoked too much, ate too much chicken, and that Taehyung’s sleeping with his head in Jimin’s lap.

Right, Taehyung’s sleeping with his head in Jimin’s lap, or rather, with his face mushed into Jimin’s thigh, a little too close to his crotch for Jimin’s fragile peace of mind. It’s endearing in a way, though, because Taehyung’s drooled all over his chin, and that’s not sexy – just immensely cute, and Jimin’s a goner.

The house is quiet, save for the lo-fi beats Taehyung put on when Jimin asked him if he wanted any music. It’s serene, and Jimin’s taken to running his fingers through Taehyung’s hair – it’s soft and silky, and it helps Jimin keep his thoughts well-behaved. Outside the window, the rooftops are covered in a thick blanket of snow, untouched and immaculate, and Christmas lights are twinkling at every corner.

Jimin is watching, observing, listening, feeling – his senses are almost overwhelmed, but in a good way. He feels at peace after a while of torment, and he feels well. He feels connected with everything around him, Taehyung, the music, the snow, the cold, the lights, even his forgotten tea. It’s good and he’s… happy.

‘Jimin-ah?’

Jimin looks down to see Taehyung blinking blearily at him, a lazy smile on his lips that quickly turns into a worried frown. ‘Why’re you crying, Jimmy?’ he asks and lifts a hand to Jimin’s cheek.

Jimin blinks a few times in surprise and feels the tears in his eyes escape, roll down his cheeks and gather in the corners of his lips. They’re salty and hot, and when he raises his own hand to wipe at his cheek, they glisten on his fingers with a soft glow. ‘I-I’m not sure,’ he whispers, looks back at Taehyung to see him worrying at his lips with his teeth.

He raises from Jimin’s lap with a huff, then turns to him and sits cross-legged on the couch. ‘Jim,’ he starts, ‘you’ve been – not alright lately,’ he says, almost questions. ‘I-If you want to talk about it, I’d love to, er, to help, if I can.’

He’s holding Jimin’s hands in-between his own, a gesture that puts Jimin at ease – always has. It makes him feel safe, so he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, then opens his mouth to speak. ‘I do want to talk about it,’ he announces, and snakes his hands around one of Taehyung’s so he can squeeze it, feel its warmth seep through his skin even more. ‘I really like you, Tae.’

It’s blunt, and there’s silence, and when Jimin finally opens his eyes again, Taehyung’s watching him with a small smile. ‘I’m glad you do, Jiminie, and I do too,’ he nods and leans in to press his forehead against Jimin’s. It looks easy for him, to act so openly about his feelings, while Jimin’s still riding high on adrenaline just from the small confession. ‘I thought that was pretty clear, though, since we kind of made out back at the uni,’ Taehyung laughs, and Jimin flinches.

Taehyung detaches his forehead and watched Jimin curiously. Jimin shakes his head, small left-to-right movements that grow surer with each swing. ‘No, Tae, you-you don’t understand, I, I–‘ he stops in the middle of the sentence and feels more tears well in his eyes, but he can’t stop them.

Taehyung’s thumb is drawing small patterns in the palm of Jimin’s hand when he speaks. ‘Jimin-ah, what are you so scared of?’ he asks, quietly, softly, bowing a little to watch Jimin in the eyes. ‘If you don’t want to do this, it’s fine. We can be just friends, or never talk again, if it helps with anything, I –‘ Jimin shakes his head and looks up at Taehyung, tears in eyes – ‘I want you to feel comfortable, ok?’

Jimin shakes his head once, then brings one hand up to the back of Taehyung’s head to pull him in a kiss – fragile, chaste, and he’s running his fingers though Taehyung’s hair, trying to ground himself. It ends too fast, he pulls away too soon and lets the words out – ‘No, Taehyung-ah, I don’t want to be just friends, or to lose you, please, no,’ he says, pleads, and continues to shake his head. ‘I want to have you close to me, I need you here, I’m just – scared.’ He bows his head again and breathes in shakily.

‘I made a big change in my life when I came here, and I half expected it to, well, fail. I thought it’d just prove my parents right, I’d get my peace of mind that mathematics was my true calling and then I’d leave here – resigned.

‘But then, you came along and stuff changed, I started smoking and you happened and I realised I didn’t miss my job or computers or whatever. I was happy for once and it’s scary to be happy after I’ve been unsatisfied with myself for so long, but –‘ Jimin stops and takes a breath, squeezes Taehyung’s hand.

‘But?’

‘But I want this,’ Jimin says, and it feels final. He looks up at Taehyung and finds him smiling, also happy, but so unrestrained with his happiness – not like Jimin is with his, clumsy and a little scared. So, Jimin smiles back and pulls Taehyung back into a kiss, caresses his cheek with all the tender love he’s got in his heart, still so young but fierce, in a way.

He kisses Taehyung softly but with abandon, lets him pull him into his lap with a gentle touch, buries his fingers in Taehyung’s too-long hair. His heart is thumping like crazy in his chest, and he’s sure Taehyung can feel it too, can count his every heartbeat and match them with his own. It’s grounding and just what Jimin needs when he feels so easily breakable.

The clock hits midnight when he manages to convince Taehyung to lean back onto the couch, and the fireworks witness Jimin settling onto his hips with a drunk smile. It’s not sexy, not at all, but Taehyung finds it endearing and welcomes Jimin with a kiss on the cheek, a loud peck right in his ear that makes him squirm in his lap with giggles.

The settle down after that, and Jimin burrows his nose in-between Taehyung’s neck and shoulder with a pleased sigh – it’s warm and smells nice in there, sue him. It’s quiet, and his eyes are droopy with sleep and some leftover high, so he settles better onto Taehyung and closes his them. ‘Don’t move until I wake up or I’ll have to challenge you to battle,’ he grumbles, a little taken with exhaustion.

Taehyung’s chuckle rumbles from deep in his chest, and Jimin revels in its vibrations. ‘Oh, how I love you, Park Jimin,’ he says and gingerly pecks Jimin’s temple.

Jimin risks losing the wink of sleep he’s caught on and lifts his head from Taehyung’s shoulder. ‘I-I, er,’ he starts and stops, gapes his mouth like a fish.

‘It’s alright, Jiminie,’ Taehyung reassures and pecks his lips. ‘You’ll say it when you feel safe saying it, if you do, ok?’

Jimin nods and kisses Taehyung’s nose, then goes to sleep on top of him, this time for good.

He’ll wake up in a few hours’ time and find Taehyung still sleeping under him, an arm slung over Jimin’s waist and one under his own head, acting like a pillow. He’ll look outside the window and see the sun shining upon the snow, the blue sky spread across the horizon, and he’ll have to wonder if it’s really winter, or just summer with snow. He’ll look back at Taehyung and wonder how he got so lucky.

He’ll lean down and kiss Taehyung’s entire face, starting from his forehead, to his eyelids, nose, cheekbones, chin and lips, then a little lower to his jaw and under his ear. He’ll wander to his neck and press his lips to Taehyung’s pulse point, just to feel it move under his lips. Then, he’ll smile and whisper in his ear,

‘I love you too, Kim Taehyung,’

and then Taehyung will wake up and pretend he heard nothing, just to make Jimin say it again.

And then, Jimin will finally be happy.