Chapter Text
“Taehyungie?”
Taehyung lifts his eyes forlornly to meet Jimin’s across his desk.
“You don’t need to stab your jangjorim like that.” Jimin’s lips pull sideways in a smile. “It’s already dead.”
Glancing down at his lunch again, Taehyung notices a piece of beef skewered on the end of his chopstick and frowns at it.
“Did your halmeonim make your lunch today?” Jimin asks. “It looks good,” he continues politely, and Taehyung lets out a heavy, long-suffering sigh.
“Someone left a note in Seokjin-ssi’s shoe locker,” Taehyung mumbles, twisting his chopstick between his fingers and watching the meat swivel around on the end.
An, “Oh,” stutters out of Jimin’s mouth, and he awkwardly shovels another pile of rice into his mouth.
“It was probably his girlfriend,” Taehyung bites bitterly, and then plucks the beef off the end of his chopstick with his teeth.
“Why would his girlfriend leave notes in his shoe locker?” Jimin ask skeptically, eyebrows pinching together, and Taehyung fiercely stabs another piece of his jangjorim.
“Because it’s adorable,” he hisses venomously.
“You could always leave notes in his shoe locker,” Jimin suggests, sticking his chopsticks in Taehyung’s lunchbox and stealing a slice of beef for himself.
“Hey!” Taehyung bats him away, brandishing his chopsticks like a weapon. “I can’t do that. Only desperate people do that. I—” Taehyung points his chopstick towards his chest, “—am not desperate.”
Jimin stares at him, cheek pressed to his knuckles and eyebrows arched in amused disbelief, and Taehyung flushes.
“Shut up,” he mumbles, pushing a chunk of pickled radish around absently.
“Okay, there’s an easy way to solve this.” Jimin twists back around, eyes searching the classroom, and then he holds up his hand. “Jungkook-ah!”
Every head in the classroom turns—including Jungkook’s.
“Jiminie,” Taehyung hisses, chopsticks clattering into his lunch as he lurches forward and Jungkook excuses himself from a conversation across the room. “What are you doing? You can’t just—”
“You rang?” Jungkook asks with a good-humored laugh as he jogs over, and Jimin’s nose crinkles in a cute little smile that makes Taehyung want to roll his eyes.
“Taehyungie has a question for you,” Jimin explains, looking pointedly at Taehyung as he says so, and Taehyung pales as Jungkook’s attention shifts to him.
“No I don’t, Jiminie is just using me as an excuse to—” Taehyung jolts as Jimin’s heel comes down hard on his foot, and he clenches his teeth to keep from yelping in pain.
“Is your brother dating anyone?” Jimin asks sweetly, and Taehyung makes a weak sound of protest in the back of his throat. Jungkook blinks at the question, looking back and forth between the two of them—although he doesn’t look confused or offended. Just… Intrigued.
“Jin-hyung?”
Taehyung almost wilts. To be able to call Seokjin Jin-hyung.
“Uh…” Jungkook’s eyes roll up into his head thoughtfully. “Not that I know of, no.”
“People are leaving notes in his shoe locker,” Jimin says in a mock-whisper, like it’s some big secret, leaning closer even as his own cheeks get pink, and Jungkook chuckles.
“That’s been happening since primary school,” Jungkook explains. “A lot of people are interested in Jin-hyung.” Jungkook shrugs like it isn’t a big deal, even as Taehyung sinks in his chair. How many people is a lot? “But he’s never accepted a confession.”
Never?
“Jungkook-ah!” Chulsoo calls, gesturing for Jungkook to join him and some of the other members of the baseball team, and Jungkook waves back in acknowledgement.
“Talk to you later?” Jimin asks coyly, and Jungkook gives him a toothy smile.
“We could walk home together?” He suggests as he takes a few steps backwards, and doesn’t wait for a response as he jogs back over to his friends.
Jimin is still blushing when he turns back to Taehyung, a small smile playing across his lips.
“See? You’re worried for nothing. It’s just some admirer. Seokjin-ssi doesn’t have a girlfriend, and—Taehyungie?” Jimin’s voice pitches up, concerned, as he watches Taehyung lay his head on the table. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be excited?”
“Seokjin-ssi has never accepted a confession, Jiminie.” Taehyung turns to press his face against his desk and whimpers. “Never.”
“Well.” Jimin’s hand settles in Taehyung’s hair, brushing through the strands in an attempt at comfort. “There’s always a first time, isn’t there?”
Taehyung makes another soft sobbing noise, and Jimin sighs, jerking him around lightly by the hair.
“I meant you, idiot.”