Chapter Text
ARABESQUE CURRENTLY UNDER CONSTRUCTION. PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM THE BUILDING!
STORY UNDER MAJOR EDITING BUT I WON'T DELETE THESE CHAPTERS IN CASE YOU WANT TO READ THE CUTE SCENES.
Dear Arabesque readers,
Hi! First of all, I want to thank you for being so patient with me and the slow updates. Second of all, I want to apologise for what I am about to say. No, the story is NOT discontinued, but it will be in pause until I finish it completely. There is so much that needs to be included in this story, and at first, because I believed I didn’t have enough time, I cut out some of the most important scenes from the storyline. Therefore, now that I am soon having vacation, have decided that it is better to have the story in hiatus until it is completely finished. This way I can also post chapters either every day or every week, considering the would already be completed.
I hope you understand where this is coming from. Please be patient with me and I am so sorry over the long wait. I promise I will be back with the completed story. It will be better in every sense possible. Plus, it will also allow me to write in peace and with joy, without worrying too much about forgetting something important by accident or making some silly mistake.
Thank you so much,
Mari (aka the author lol)
* * *
Outstanding.
From the synchronized orchestra, all the way to the flashing lights that wrap each dancer in astonishing glory. The stage, from where he sits, could be wrapped by his short, four year old arms, but from up close, there’s no chance.
After a whole week of listening to his parents complain of not finding a babysitter, he was finally able to convince them to allow him to attend the dance recital. Usually kids below five years old are not allowed to attend ballet operas, but Jungkook promised to be quiet.
He even ate all of the broccoli on his plate, plus the spinach!
“Will you behave?” his step-father had asked at the dinner table. Jungkook nodded rapidly, eyes wide as he munched on food. His parents had shared a look, sighing, but ended up agreeing.
Every few months, his parents leave town and head for the city, only to watch his older step-brother, Jimin, dance. Jungkook is always either left with his aunt or a babysitter. Lucky him, no one is available this time around, so he’ll finally be able to go.
Jimin started ballet at the age of five, in a small ballet class located in Strasbourg. Months later, there were auditions in the theatre, so he was taken there and was good enough to get in. Back then, Jungkook was just a baby (still is), so ballet meant nothing to him,
Today his thoughts change.
Jungkook’s mouth falls with awe, resembling his parents. They clap as soon as his step-brother appears on stage, spinning slowly. Jungkook roams his eyes over him, tilting his head to the side with focus.
How is it possible to move in such ways? Everything about what he’s watching is calming—but at such a young age, all the boy is able to think is a simple “pretty!”
Despite only being four years old, age is unable to block Jungkook from falling in love; no matter if it is for a sport or person. His heart beats faster as soon as a boy with black hair and white clothing appears on the stage. He’s short, just like his older brother, and incredibly skinny.
Jungkook is able to notice the difference between Jimin and him. His brother takes his time extending his leg, while this other boy is quick. It even has his parents gasping, clapping with acknowledgement.
Throughout the whole performance, not once does Jungkook lose track of the dancer. His step-brother is forgotten so easily, but at least his parents are paying attention. The black haired boy jumps neatly, and Jungkook wonders if once reaching his age, he will be able to jump like that too.
His mind becomes fuzzy once it’s all over. He loves the way roses fall on the stage, loves the way the skinny boy takes a hold of a bouquet and bows down; looking so elegant and beautiful. Jungkook joins the rest of the audience with loud claps, mouth still hanging open.
Very good, is what his mother mumbles to his father.
Those two words are the key for the locked gate. Jungkook sits up on his seat, legs going under his body as he takes a hold of his mother’s shirt. She smiles softly while running a hand through his hair.
“Did you enjoy it?” she whispers.
Jungkook doesn’t answer the question per se, instead nods like the hyperactive kid he is and points at the stage.
“I want to learn!”
It is no surprise that a few weeks later, Jungkook finds himself in ballet classes, tights a bit too long on his growing legs, but the teacher says it’s better like this because he'll grow into them. He watches everyone in the room jump around, holding onto the bars and pointing their feet.
It’s hard, even more so for a kid his age, who’s attention span consists of five seconds. Either way, he manages, and every day after class, his mother reminds him of how good he is. He whines at times, cries that he doesn’t jump as high as the older kids, but she buys him a lolly and it all goes forgotten.
By the age of six, Jungkook asks his mother to allow him to audition for the same academy Jimin attends. She declines, and so does his step-father. Jungkook decides to practice harder, proving himself to be just as good as Jimin.
His first important recital comes at the age of seven, and Jungkook cries in his bedroom after not obtaining the main role for The Nutcracker. Instead, he is told to be a mouse, one that dies in the middle of a scene and all he has to do is move his legs like a breathless rat.
“They don’t think I’m good enough!” he tells his mother one night. He sits on the bed, running a ball over his leg muscles. “I’m gonna be eight next month and I’m still here! Jimin left when he was five.”
At his deep pout, his mother speaks up: “Don’t worry, Kookie,” she runs a hand through his hair. “You will become just as good as Jimin. I know you will.”
Jungkook looks up, his eyes focusing on the poster behind his drawer. Kim Taehyung, the ballet prodigy, smiles widely back at him from the wall, standing so tall, even at the age of nine.
“I don’t want to be like Jimin.” Jungkook grumbles before putting the ball down and pointing at the professional dancer. “I want to be like him.”
Being as good as said dancer will take even more time and practice.
For his eighth birthday, he receives a total of three new pairs of slippers. They’re Sansha Pro 1 Canvas Ballet Slippers. They’re quite expensive, but most kids in his class wear them and now he can finally test them out.
The boy spends his nights sewing his shoes for them to fit better. He also learns how to sew his own ballet outfits so his mother doesn’t have to do them for him.
Then, at nine, his father gives him a library card as a gift, so Jungkook uses it to check out every single ballet book on the shelves. The librarian sends him a weird look, but he only smiles widely, front teeth looking weird since one had fallen a few days prior.
- The boy was found at the footsteps of the academy, with a note inside his basket. Supposedly, the note was from his biological mother, it had his name printed on it—Kim Taehyung—and it was begging for the academy to take the boy in.
Jungkook reads this out of the biography he found of Kim Taehyung in a website online.
He munches on some carrots as he takes mental notes of the dancer’s life. He’s an orphan, yet was lucky enough to be, in some way, adopted by Lotte’s Opera House; one of the best academies in the world—if being nominated as top five is anything to go by.
Jimin is lucky to be in there as well. He’s even luckier that he was allowed to enter at such a young age.
After being declined (again) by his parents to audition, Jungkook falls into the conclusion that they think he won’t be admitted. This pushes him to work harder. Whenever he has free time, Jungkook watches videos of dancers and even uses his school textbooks to practice flexibility. He sets up two stacks of six books on each side, then places a foot on one, the other on the stack behind.
He does this every night until it doesn’t hurt, until he’s sure he can bend anyway possible and not one single part of his body will sting. One night, his mother gasps in horror when he sees him making the splits over the books.
“Jesus, Kook, you’re going to end up with no bones at all!”
“That’s the point, mum!”
At age ten, he finally obtains his first protagonist role. He’s a prince, and it is the prettiest outfit he has worn so far for a recital. People clap for him, and once the performance is done, his parents give him a beautiful bouquet.
The flowers remind him of when he was four years old, of when he saw Taehyung dance for the very first time. Taehyung had only been six, and people were already throwing roses on stage, thanking him for a dazzling performance.
“Will I ever get roses?” Jungkook asks his parents as they walk out of the avenue. “Like Taehyung does?”
“Of course,” his mother answers, “but for now, what about we go get some crepes as a celebration?”
“Ok!”
After that one recital, Jungkook gets another part as a protagonist, then another, and another. They keep coming, so by the age of twelve, he decides on telling his parents it is time to leave the house.
“Mum, dad,” he starts off by saying. He stands proudly in front of them, blocking the television. They raise their eyebrows questioningly and motion for him to continue. The boy takes out a piece of paper. “There will be auditions in August. I want to try out for Lotte’s Academy.”
The adults blink.
“No, there’s no way,” his mother whispers, but sits up anyway and takes the paper carefully. She reads through it, eyes moving rapidly between sentences. Once she’s done, she hands it over to his father.
He reads it too, taking his time. As soon as he has finished, he puts the paper down on the coffee table and nods.
“I think it would be good for him,” he says.
“We already lost Jimin.” The beautiful woman sighs sadly.
His step-dad snorts and runs a hand down her back, smiling. “We didn’t lose him, lovely. You know he’s happy where he is. We should let Jungkook go too.”
“But—” his mother goes to speak. Her bottom lip wobbles sadly as she speaks. “Alright, if this is what you want. At least Jimin is there, so I will know you’ll be alright.”
Jungkook screams with excitement.
* * *
The acceptance letter arrives a week later.
Dear Jungkook,
Congratulations! It is with great pleasure to announce your acceptance in the famous ballet school, Lotte’s Opera House. You have been given this opportunity in recognition for your impeccable dancing skills. We can’t wait to have you join us!
Lotte’s Opera House.
His parents threw him a celebration dinner with his grandparents. They even video call Jimin to let him know. His older brother is shocked at first, but when he sees Jungkook crying with excitement, he also ends up crying into the camera, thrilled to know he will be able to have his brother by his side.
After dinner, Jungkook locks himself in the room and sits down on his desk, placing the tablet in front of him to see Jimin correctly. “So they finally allowed you to come, huh?” his older brother teases.
“It took some time, but it was your dad who agreed!”
“Our dad,” Jimin says in a sing-song voice. “Hey, you know, if you work hard enough and get a good grade during the final exam, you could be moved to my level and we’d be roommates.”
“Seriously?” Jungkook asks with wide eyes.
“Yeah! Why not?” Jimin moves around on the other side of the camera, finding a more comfortable spot. “I could ask the counseling to put us together, considering we’re siblings and all. I have two friends who did it. They’re twins, though.”
“When is the final exam?” Jungkook questions.
“You have one ever year, plus other exams every few months, but this evaluation will be until you’re nineteen.” Jimin then falls silent and looks down for a moment. “Hey, Kook, are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you want to come to the academy?”
“Of course! I want to be a professional as well.”
Jimin takes a deep breath and begins to nod slowly, then shakes his head and nods even faster. “Alright, then! Roommates we shall be.”
Jungkook hums quietly. “Is that a promise?”
“It’s a promise, little bro.”
It is because of Jimin’s tiny pinky that Jungkook takes it a step further in training. His mother cries the whole drive to Paris, whining about not having any children left at home. Jungkook listens to music the whole way there, headphones covering his tiny ears.
He can’t stop bouncing with excitement.
He’s in.
Jimin is at the entrance of the school when he arrives, right next to a tall woman. Jungkook jumps out of the car and indulges his brother in a hug. “Hey shorty.” Jimin greets him with a tap on his head, him being a whole head taller. Jungkook can’t wait for his growth spurt.
The academy is humongous, way bigger than in any of the pictures, way prettier than on Jimin’s recordings. The lady who was outside gives them a tour and explains the rules. Jungkook is incredibly mesmerized, but that doesn’t stop him from listening.
His dorm is far from Jimin’s, but it is still located in the academy’s grounds. This has his mother worrying, but Jimin promises to take good care of him and always make sure he’s well tucked in before bed.
His mother cries again, while his step-father winks proudly.
On his first night sleeping at the academy, Jungkook meets his roommate and first official friend. He is from Australia and part korean. His name is Christopher Bang, but with a wide smile he says Jungkook can call him Chan.
They do everything together, from school, to stretching, all the way to ballet training. Chan is amazing, and out of the other twenty-four kids in their class, he is who jumps the highest. Jungkook is a little bit jealous, but Chan promises to teach him how to jump higher.
Jungkook is fifteen when it hits him how hard ballet actually is. Everything begins piling up, even if school is only for three hours, ballet classes take up the rest of the day and he barely has time to finish homework.
Jimin helps by telling him some tips on time management. Jungkook takes all of them into consideration, even as far as to write them down and paste them over his bed.
From time to time, whenever he and his brother are alone, Jungkook always tries to bring the famous dancer into the topic, but Jimin always chuckles with a shake of his head, immediately conversing about something different.
He has been here for almost four years and not once has he met Taehyung properly. The only place he has seen him at are the ballet recitals, which he is allowed to watch freely thanks to Jimin, who always asks the company to save him a spot.
Jungkook and Chan have tried to sneak into the bigger kids hallway, just to peek inside their class and maybe catch a glimpse of Taehyung. Chan teases him for having a crush, but all Jungkook does is slap his hand away with a blush.
Bang Chan is forced to leave ballet as soon as they turn seventeen. He tells this to Jungkook in their dorm room, where he’s already packing his bags to leave. Apparently Chan’s grandmother is sick and he doesn’t want to watch her leave without properly spending time with her.
Jungkook understands. They exchange numbers and continue their friendship through the electronic device.
At first, it’s hard to go to sleep without someone on the other bed. It feels empty, but after another week or so, Jungkook is given a new roommate. He’s nice, but he’s a tad bit quieter. Also, he’s from Russia and Jungkook barely understands what he’s saying sometimes.
They communicate by nods and smiles.
His new roommate doesn’t talk to him until he falls asleep, nor does he throw himself over him when he doesn’t want to wake up. He doesn’t have breakfast with him or steals his food away. He also knows nothing about NU’EST.
Jungkook really misses his friend.
* * *
Years pass by and Jungkook finally turns nineteen. This means he’s free from school, has moved to a different set of dormitories, and now has the possibility to focus full time on ballet.
Oh, and the final evaluation is coming up.
That day is today.
“You have to do well,” Jimin tells him.
Jungkook sits up from the Pilates machine, sweat running down his face as he breathes deeply. The only answer he is able to give his brother is a nod, because his voice hasn’t fully gotten back from the workout.
“The teachers speak well about you,” his brother continues. “They say ‘that Jeon Jungkook dances like he’s weightless.’ Then I tell them you’re my brother and they get all confused because of our last names.”
Jungkook falls into a fit of giggles. Their family has never cared much about last names. Even though Jungkook’s mother is Park now, she never forced him to change his name. Jungkook was just a baby when his parents got divorced and his mother remarried.
His real father lives in a different part of France and they tend to see each other only during the summer vacation. It is because of his father’s positive attitude that his mother agreed on leaving Jeon on his name.
This had never been confusing, considering Jimin spent most of his life in the academy instead of having a normal school life. Jungkook was seen as an only child throughout the years, but now that he is finally with his brother again, people confuse them and don’t believe they’re family.
Sometimes it’s hard for Jungkook to see them as one too. Not because anyone has told him it is wrong in some way, but his brain has always had a way to play with him. Having his father in France as well and knowing he never gave up his love for Jungkook, the boy has always felt like calling his step-dad “dad” is a stab on the back to his real father. He does it, of course—call him dad and all—but it twists his insides every now and then.
Jimin should have nothing to do with it, but Jungkook is aware of the other family his father has, and he's aware of how he calls them “step-brothers” without thinking about it twice. Why should I call Jimin my brother when I so easily call others step-brothers? And it goes on from that. These tiny stressful thoughts that shouldn't be stressful at all. They drive him crazy.
“Do you really think they’ll promote me to your class if I do well?” he questions.
“Yeah, I do.” Jimin winks and stands up, taking a hold of his bag. “I promised you, didn’t I?”
“You did.” Jungkook bites on his bottom lip.
He uses a stretch band to practice the point of his feet. Jimin watches him silently, a knowing smile on his face. They might have spent most of their life away from each other, but that doesn’t stop him from knowing his younger brother like the palm of his hand.
“Stop worrying. Don’t be so nervous.” Jimin takes a towel, balls it up, and throws it at Jungkook, hitting him across the face. He begins to laugh, covering his mouth to stop the giggles, but Jungkook only takes the towel and throws it back just as hard.
“I didn’t miss you. Ever,” he whines.
“Yes you did.”
“Nope.”
Jimin wiggles his eyebrows and stands up. He pulls on his tights, trying to get them into place, then takes out the tucked in white shirt and allows it to fall over his lean body. It covers all the way down to his thighs.
Jungkook looks at his brother and can’t help but think that he is exactly what judges and companies search for. He’s lean, easy to carry, and incredibly strong, even if he doesn’t look like it. Jimin is gorgeous, and with ballet clothing, it only proves how strong his features are even more.
Maybe Jungkook is a little bit jealous.
“Jimin,” he begins to say, “if you didn’t know who I was, and you saw me walking down the street, would you think I’m a ballet dancer?”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Jungkook nods with wide eyes. It makes him look like a bug, with pursed lips and tinted cheeks. “No, I would think you’re a gymnast. Blame those thighs of yours.”
Jungkook gawks with offence, a hand falling on his heart.
“A gymnast?!” he stands up, following his older brother. They put everything away, and the whole time, Jungkook complains about the response. “Are you kidding me? A gymnast?!”
Growing up as a ballet student in a private school, Jungkook didn’t have the most fun experience. Sure, he had a few friends, but never got too close because it meant he would want to spend time with them. Entering the academy always was his number one priority, so he refused to have any type of distraction.
On the other hand, he never got bullied or made fun of for doing ballet. What bothered him, though, was that most students believed he was a gymnast, and Jungkook always reminded them that — “No, I am a ballet dancer.”
This would create constant battles during physical education between the actual gymnasts in his class and him. They would argue about who is more flexible. Of course, Jungkook always won. Sure, gymnasts are incredibly flexible, but ballet dancers have a little bit extra.
They have to be able to bend in any way possible, lift their leg anywhere, and stretch their back as if it were the easiest task.
One day he even beat a few of the cheerleaders in school. He went home with three chocolate bars, because every battle meant the price was a Kinder bar. He ate those happily while practicing his flexibility at night.
The loud bang of the gym’s doors has him waking up. Jungkook looks over to his brother, who is waving at him to hurry up. He jogs over and together they head for the lunch room.
The evaluation is in two hours, so Jimin said he needs to eat well and get some protein inside his body. Honestly, Jungkook had planned to sleep the remaining time, but his brother didn’t let him.
“Do you have any tips?” Jungkook questions as they sit down to eat.
Jimin hums, tapping his bottom lip with the end of his fork, a piece of chicken popping into his mouth. Jungkook eats slowly and takes his time to chew. It helps, according to the health teacher, to not get bloated and feel heavy after eating.
“Don’t do tricks,” Jimin answers. “I mean, if you’re thinking of showing off with an aerial cartwheel, then sure that’s fine, but don’t go off trying some weird tricks. You know what I mean?”
“Sure.”
His brother stares at him with a deadpan expression. “I mean, don’t go on putting your chin on the floor and lifting your body behind you. Also, no handstands. They don’t care. This is ballet, not—”
“Gymnastics? Got it.”
He’s thankful that they don’t search for tricks here, because Jungkook has never been very good with them. For him to do an aerial, he has to think about it at least twenty times before trying it out. Jimin does them so easily, but him? God no. He has been lucky enough to never have to do one during a performance.
He doesn’t tell this to Jimin, though, because it will only prove how much weaker he is. In the ballet industry you can’t go throwing around what you’re inferior at. It will end up biting you in the butt, because those around you will use it in order to make it to the greater spot.
It might not seem like it, but ballet is one of the most competitive sports out there.
“Can I pass without doing an aerial?”
“Of course,” Jimin tells him. “Honestly, I didn’t do one. I just proved my firmness and strength.”
Alright, he can do that. He’ll prove how flexible he is, and how good his jumping has become. His hands are a bit shaky, but Jimin distracts him from it throughout the rest of lunch. He tells him about his class and how Jungkook will fit right in. It makes the younger boy feel a tad bit better.
Half an hour later, Jungkook is saying goodbye to Jimin and heading for his room to shower. His brother promises to be there for his evaluation and wait outside. Jungkook is grateful to have a normal sibling and not a competitive one... at least for now. Jimin seems to be alright with him at the moment; no signs of who's beating who just yet.
His nerves have slowly cooled down, but he can already see himself having a mental breakdown as soon as he finishes showering to head down for the exam.
It must show on his face, because his eyebrows have furrowed together, creating a soft crease in between. His mouth has fallen on a pout, and some people ask what’s wrong, but he simply shakes his head. Others wish him luck, and he thanks them with a smile.
Jungkook decides to take a different route to his dorm room, choosing the farther exit. This is all because he feels he’s near fainting and doesn’t want the embarrassment of the rest of the students seeing him fall on the ground.
As he walks, he moves his hands around, humming the soft melody that comes from afar.
“Higher!”
He stops.
His eyes roam over the hallway, but there’s no one there. He purses his lips and decides to follow the voice. Whoever it is that is yelling sounds angry, and Jungkook is scared to be seen by them. Part of his brain tells him he needs to get out of this hallway as soon as possible, but the other part of it pushes him to go check out who is this angry.
“Your shoulders are not in place—come on!” If this is what his next professor will sound like, then Jungkook isn’t sure if he wants to enter the next level. “One, first position, and hop! And down, and—no!”
Reaching the end, Jungkook notices the glass door. The music coming from inside is way too calm for someone to be yelling in such a way. He now decides he should leave before anyone sees him. After all, this hallway must be empty for a reason.
Jungkook is about to walk away, but then he hears it.
“Kim Taehyung! Again!”
He feels like he swallows his tongue. His feet stop moving, and his heart? God, fuck his heart.
Jungkook runs a finger down the wall, biting his lip in question. Should he—yes, he definitely should. He tip toes over to the glass door and pokes his head through the right side.
His eyes widen when he spots him.
Taehyung, the best known dancer in Paris, also considered as one of the youngest and greatest ballerinas in the world, is right there. He’s leaning forward, hands on his knees, head hung between his shoulders as he breathes deeply.
Jungkook runs his eyes down his body. The lad is wearing quite big clothing. His pants are black and flowy, reaching his ankle, enough for Jungkook to notice the black tights underneath and the black slippers. His shirt is a tank top, exposing his defined body and strong arms. Now he is someone who proves to be a professional ballerina.
What has Jungkook gulping is the greenish bandana over his hair, holding the black locks back. His forehead is exposed, and wow, Jungkook knew Taehyung was pretty by simply looking at the posters, but he didn’t know he was this gorgeous.
“Your mother would be disappointed if she saw your posture,” the teacher says.
Jungkook shifts his gaze at him instead. He’s lean, in difference from Taehyung, and Jungkook recognises him immediately; Samuel Alarie, one of the best teachers in this academy. He has a beautiful chestnut skin colour, and he’s a tad bit taller than Taehyung. In contrast to the younger ballet dancer, he does wear the appropriate clothes for a ballet class; black tights and white shirt.
Even though he’s also quite handsome, that doesn’t stop Jungkook from feeling terrified.
“Come on, get up,” he says with a serious look. “You need to perfect this if you want to keep being the top of your class.”
Taehyung nods and stands straight, his real form amazing Jungkook; tall, broad and formal. He gets into position without being told twice. His feet point with an ideal arch, his back straight, forcing his back muscles to flex easily.
The music starts playing and he stretches out, somehow becoming even taller than before. He does everything so effortlessly, as if he doesn’t think twice. It should be illegal to move like this. He looks like pure royalty. It’s crazy how he is able to maintain his expression according to the music.
Jungkook is so invested in watching that he doesn’t realize that now half of his body is over the glass door. It’s until Taehyung is whirling rapidly that Jungkook feels their eyes meet through the mirror. While his eyes go wide, Taehyung's pucker.
Jungkook yelps and hides behind the wall, a hand falling over his heart as he’s breathing heavily.
“Taehyung!” Samuel chides. “Focus, for fucks sake!”
“Yes, Monsieur!” he answers while continuing the routine.
Jungkook’s eyes fall shut for a few seconds, then they open them slowly. His heart is beating faster than normal, and by this time around, he doesn’t know if it’s because of getting caught by his idol, or if it’s simply because the exam is coming up.
Perhaps it’s neither. Perhaps it's both.
All he knows is he just acknowledged an angel dancing, and it all happened right in front of his eyes.
* * *
For his evaluation, Jungkook makes sure his hair is in a perfect bun. He looks at himself in the mirror from every angle, double checking that everything is where it is supposed to be. Then, he adds a few black clips to keep the baby hairs from poking out.
One last look in the mirror and he takes a deep breath.
You can do this.
The waiting hall is packed with students. It’s a normal evaluation, yet has a completely different meaning behind it. Any other exam would have simply allowed you to either move forward or stay behind. However, this one, you have the chance to either just move one level up or fully upgrade yourself and enter a whole new set.
Jungkook wants to prove himself. He’s good enough to join the upper class, with those two or three years older than him. Kim Taehyung proved that age doesn’t specify how good you are at something. Jungkook can show the teachers that he is as good as them.
He takes a seat on the floor, his back against the wall.
Everyone around him is either stretching or practicing their moves, simply going over what they’re going to do. All Jungkook can do is run his eyes over them. He feels as if everything goes quiet, just for a few seconds because a sick feeling is starting to form inside his body.
Before he can even allow himself to pay too much attention to the uncomfortable sensation, the door to the evaluation room opens up. A girl walks out, face red as she covers her face with a hand.
A few of her friends are quick to run over to her, and it’s until she removes the hand from her face that Jungkook realizes she’s crying.
Twenty minutes later, his name is finally called.
“Jeon Jungkook.”
Oh God.
He sits up, his head snapping up. The lady looks around, until finally spotting Jungkook, who is raising his hand while standing. She points inside the room with her pencil, telling him to hurry up.
“Thank you.” He bows at her before entering the room.
There is a barre in the middle of the room—this being the first thing that captures his eye. The lady who called his name stays standing beside the door, while there is another woman behind the piano. He walks over to her and hands over his music sheet, smiling thankfully.
Once he’s standing in front of the barre, he takes in the three people sitting behind the long table. Two women and one man.
Jungkook gulps.
One of the ladies in the table is Alice Lotte, mostly known as madame Lotte. She’s not only the director and owner of this academy, but also the adoptive mother of Taehyung. Jungkook wonders why Taehyung isn’t called Taehyung Lotte, but that is probably something he will never figure out.
The second woman is a famous choreographer. Jungkook has read all about her online. She’s also in most of Taehyung’s pictures. Her name is Cristina Rivas. She’s from Chile and is known for yelling at her students in Spanish.
Lastly, the man, he’s older than the other two, if the grey hairs in his hair are of any clue. He’s a terrific teacher as well, but Jungkook has never read about him, to be honest. All he knows is people here call him Monsieur Achi, and he comes from Thailand.
“Jeon Jungkook,” Madame Lotte smiles. “You’re Park Jimin’s younger brother, aren’t you?” she asks sweetly, but her smile is only enough to have his voice relaxing, not his body.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She reads over the folder in front of her, then looks up at him. “He's one of the best here. I could go on forever. Will you live up to his name? Because I’ve heard beautiful things about you. I hope they’re true. After all, you did make it into this academy, didn’t you?”
Jungkook nods, repeating himself, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Alright, shall we?”
He doesn’t have to agree to let them know that yes, they should start. It’s not like he can say no anyway. The boy stands beside the barre, taking a soft hold and closing his eyes. They explain what they want to see first, and it all comes down to flexibility.
He has to place a foot over the bar and lean down, stretching as most as possible.
Madame Rivas takes a hold of a paper and reads out loud: “We’ll like you to follow this set,” Jungkook nods rapidly, breathing in as he prepares himself mentally. “Plie, then back to first, bending forward, back to the bar, away from the bar. Then fourth position with arm up and turn towards the bar—”
Jungkook simply takes mental notes of everything she’s saying. The professional isn’t even trying to go slow. She’s throwing everything he has to do without care that he might not catch it. What she doesn't know, and now will learn, is that Jungkook has a good memory when it comes to ballet.
He will do exactly what she says.
As soon as she’s done, they queue the woman at the piano to start. The music tickles his ears, and with a smile, he does as told.
By the simple grin growing on Achi’s face, Jungkook can tell he’s doing a good job. Following instruction in ballet is not hard, and as long as he enjoys what he’s doing, there is no way he will mess up.
The barre exercises turn out great. They even earn him a set of claps. The three write down on their paper, then look up, pencil falling on the folders. As they do this, Jungkook removes the bar from the middle of the room.
“Good job. Now, did you prepare something for us?” Madame Lotte questions.
“I will be performing a piece I choreographed in my free time.” Cristina sits up straight, raising her eyebrows with interest. “I call this piece Goodbye. My first friend from here left when I was seventeen, and this is a piece he and I used to practice together.”
“Oh?” Achi leans forward, but his eyes are not on him, they’re on the paper as he writes. “So, is this a choreography for two people?”
“Yes, sir, but the beauty of this piece is that with my movements I can prove there is someone else with me, even though I will perform alone.”
Madame Lotte hums, tapping her pencil on the paper. She looks over at the piano lady and signals her to begin playing. Jungkook is just getting in position when it begins, so he quickly leans down, moving his arms around, as if he’s about to hug someone.
Even though he feels like his heart is about to burst out of his chest, Jungkook is quite proud of himself. When it comes to jumping, he earns gasps from the judges. They clap softly, which has him smiling even wider.
The choreography ends with him bowing down, a foot behind and pointed gorgeously. He hopes the arch of his foot looks as pretty as Taehyung’s did hours ago
“Thank you, Jungkook,” Madame Lotte starts off. “We will let you know your results in a week. You are free to go now.”
He doesn’t get feedback like he expected, instead is quickly pushed out of the room.
Jimin is outside and hugs him, asking how it went. Jungkook tells him everything, and Jimin quickly tells him there is no doubt he will be chosen to move forward.
* * *
“It’s already seven. Take your stuff and go rest.” Taehyung nods silently at his teacher. He’s breathing heavily, his heart is beating fast, as if it’s about to burst out of his chest.
The practice room becomes incredibly silent as soon as the music is shut off. Taehyung takes off his slippers and picks up his other different set of shoes, then throws them inside his bag. Once he has on his tennis shoes, he walks out.
“Make sure to rest the whole night and be ready to wake up early tomorrow.” Samuel says. Taehyung watches as he locks the door. The teacher turns around and points a finger at his face. “This is an order, Taehyung. Do not continue practicing.”
Taehyung looks away. Samuel sighs and holds the back of Taehyung’s neck.
“Taehyung, look at me.” He does. “Do not. In what language do I have to tell—”
“I won't practice,” Taehyung finally says. “I understand French just fine.”
Samuel tucks his lips and nods, pats his shoulder once before leaving. Taehyung doesn’t leave until he’s out of sight. He takes out his earphones and plays some music. His phone is quite old, and his earphones don’t work as well as they used to, but it’s better than nothing.
He has enough money to buy himself a new one, but because he doesn’t know how to reach the phone store, he doesn’t go. He has to ask his mother to buy him one, but the last time he did, she said his phone still works and he should save money. After being given the same answer over a hundred times, Taehyung tried to leave by using Google Maps, but of course he was caught the moment he stepped out of the main gates.
Taehyung is different from most students here. He, in difference from the rest, is considered a professional ballet dancer. This means he already earns money, so every bit he makes, he saves in the box inside his bedroom.
For someone his age, he should already know Paris' streets by memory, but Taehyung is probably the only twenty-one year old who has never gone farther than the opera in the next street.
It’s alright, though, because it’s not like he’s leaving any time soon.
For now, he must focus on his technique. Samuel says he’s lacking with landing, and that is way more important than getting to know Paris. Sure, Samuel said he should rest, but Taehyung has never been too keen on that.
He ends up in the cafeteria, eating a quick meal. It’s empty, probably because it’s Friday and the students tend to head out to have dinner somewhere nice. Besides, today was evaluation day, and after such a stressful situation, of course they would want to get away.
Taehyung doesn’t have anyone to go with, and even if he did, he must practice, so it’s a lost battle anyway.
Days like this, when the academy is silent and the most he can hear is the music coming from the right earbud, Taehyung already has a faint idea of what is to come. Restless nights are what he has come to accept, and thankfully, he’s strong enough to take it.
He heads for the private room once finishing his meal, and takes out the key his mother gave him and opens up, turning on the lights silently. As always, the floor is pristine, the bars are against the walls, and the mirrors are enough to see his every move and angle.
This room has become his favourite, yet most hated friend.
The boy drops his bag and sits beside it, taking out all of his stuff. He starts off by using the roller, moving it up and down against his legs. He hisses a few times with the feeling of his muscles being pushed to relax, but at the end, it’s all worth it.
Your pirouette looks like an amateur’s.
What’s wrong with your arms? Higher!
Taehyung’s eyes fall closed and he grumbles. He rolls the foam roller harder against his thigh now, his eyebrows compressing.
Come on, you can do better than that.
He bites his lips and presses with a solid grip, his whole leg tenses at the sudden, added pressure.
You’re lucky your mother isn’t watching. You owe her so much, the least you could do is dance well.
He’s so concentrated on thinking about all the negativity he was thrown at today, that he doesn’t realize that he’s pressing on the rigid bit of his thigh. His eyes snap open when the pain shoots down his whole leg.
“Shit—fuck. Ouch.”
He stops and drops the roller beside his leg. Today has been quite stressful. Usually he can take it, but for some reason, life really got the best of him today. His feet hurt worse than usual, and his back is in need of a massage.
Get up. He thinks to himself.
Taehyung stretches up, holds his arms to his sides, then fills his lungs with air. With a quick press on the screen, the music starts. He dances with his earphones in and phone held tightly in hand.
Ballet, for him, is that one friend who continues to stab you in the back. They have fun times, laugh together, enjoy each other’s company, but at the end only one of them comes out hurt. That someone is always Taehyung.
One, two, three, four, five, six…
Those are the beginning counts for the nine in. He’s the one at the front, so all of his movements must be on point, because his position in the dance is to be the lead.
His upper body leans down and his arms open wide, lifting up to the air as if there’s weight on his shoulders. As soon as his elbows reach the height of his shoulders once more, he tip toes forward, chin held high.
Arm stretched out.
The first pirouette comes in, and then quick rotations throughout the extra space. He has to travel from one corner of the room to the other.
Jump, jump, jump.
He makes sure there’s enough space around him, that his arms won’t collide with anyone else's. With his eyes shut, he imagines the stage and the rest of the boys who twirl behind him.
Out. Jump. Out.
Samuel’s voice is loud in his ears as he does continuous turns on the toe. He doesn’t stop, because at this point, no matter how many he does, he knows they won’t make him dizzy.
Onto it.
It’s until he reaches the middle again, that he forces his body up and does an impeccable grand jete. His feet meet the floor how they should, sure, but his mind stops him from continuing as soon as pain roars up his body.
Maybe he should rest.
No, later.
He gets back to practicing, until he feels every single inch of his body give out.
It’s ten at night when the boy officially falls on his bum. He throws off his shoes and takes a look at his feet. He sighs, running his hand up and down his arch, then pressing his thumb on the middle. He lets out a long breath, shaking his head with defeat.
Just when Taehyung is taking off his earphones, he looks up at himself in the mirror, a frown on his lips. He’s ready to give himself a pep talk and remind his inner ballerina that there is more time for extra practice, when a set of eyes captures his attention.
Taehyung’s own eyes go wide and he looks behind himself. “Hey!”
Whoever was watching him yelps and hides. Taehyung blinks with confusion, his gaze never leaving the spot outside the glass door. After a few minutes of not seeing anything, he goes back to rubbing his foot.
First at the main practice room, and now here? No one should even be here because it’s a private area. There is also the fact that by ten at night everyone should be in their dorm room. The only way they can be in a practice room is if they ask for the key until a certain hour.
Once he has put his slippers away and switched to his soft tennis shoes, just like he did hours ago, Taehyung finally gets up. He wraps the earphones carefully and puts them inside his bag, then throws it over his shoulder.
That’s when he sees it again: the pair of eyes.
They’re incredibly round, and they roam up and down his body. Before the person can even think of doing anything else, Taehyung is turning around and pointing at the door, making those brown eyes open once more.
“You can’t be here!” he calls out. The person hides again, but Taehyung can see his shoulder. “And I can see you!”
No answer, and the body doesn't seem to move, so Taehyung huffs and rushes over, pulling on the door to step out. The boy must not have expected for him to walk out so fast, because he’s caught red handed, ready to rush away.
Taehyung feels like his stomach is punched as soon as he sees him correctly. The boy, as tall as him (or maybe one centimetre shorter, but with those big shoes it’s hard to tell), has a beautiful bun on his hair, with a few hairs falling at the front.
He wears black jeans, with a black, long sweater over them that reach his thighs. Taehyung really should stop running his eyes over him, but he can’t seem to stop. There are pretty bracelets on his hands, and they only contrast on his pink skin.
The ballet dancer licks his lips nervously, left hand holding onto the string of his bag as he mumbles: “You, um, you can’t be here.” The other boy nods nervously, playing with his dorm keys.
His pinkish hands reach for the hair that falls over his eyes, and carefully moves it to the side. He points behind him, to the end of the hallway, and opens his mouth to speak. “I’ll just—”
Taehyung squints his eyes and directs his index finger at him. “Aren’t you the boy from earlier?”
Jungkook has watched a thousand documentaries and interviews about Taehyung, but now, having him up close, he is able to listen to his strong French accent clearly. The way he speaks is beautiful and slow, deep and with class. His lips move like a dance routine with every word. Jungkook wonders how his own French sounds. Is it as alluring as Taehyung's? Or can Taehyung tell his accent is mixed with Korean and English as well?
“Hello?”
Jungkook's eyes widen even more, making him look incredibly round, even more when his reddish lips fall open. “I’m not following you!”
“I didn’t say you were,” Taehyung murmurs, looking down.
He notices his shirt sticking to his body, and it has his nose scrunching with a grimace. He must look like a mess, and he bets he smells disgusting too. It’s embarrassing, even more because he’s in front of a very pretty boy.
“I’m Jungkook,” he finally introduces himself. There’s a skip in his step as he leans forward, only for a centimetre. Taehyung nods his head, taking his name in. He feels like he has heard this name somewhere. “I mean, I don’t think that’s important but—well, now you know.”
Silence.
Jungkook blushes deeply as soon as he realizes Taehyung is probably not going to introduce himself. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s cocky or because he simply forgot. Either way, Jungkook decides not to force him.
Instead of continuing Jungkook’s conversation, the professional dancer goes back to the same topic. This time it comes out softer, almost sounding shy. Jungkook hopes he isn’t scaring him.
“You… can’t be here,” Taehyung whispers. “This is, um, a private room.”
Jungkook nods and takes a peek inside the glass door. He swears he doesn’t mean to sound arrogant, but the words leave his mouth before he can even think twice about the declaration. He’s so used to snapping back at Jimin with smart ass remarks that now it slipped as if in autopilot.
“Well, I’m not inside the room…”
Taehyung’s eyes go round, his lips tucking in. He has a point, he thinks to himself. The dancer clears his throat and motions around with his hand, steading his voice as much as possible. “I’m just saying. If a teacher saw you here you’d be in trouble.”
Jungkook doesn’t answer, only stares, directly in the eye. Taehyung purses his lips, his gaze shifting from place to place, awkwardly standing there while Jungkook doesn’t say a thing. It’s like he froze.
“Um.”
He finally speaks, “You’re even prettier up close.”
Taehyung’s cheeks immediately go red, and he feels all of his body rise with heat. His heart beats faster, but this feels completely different from when he is overworking himself. His eyebrows have jumped so high up that they could even fall out of his face.
“Excuse me?” he stutters out, almost choking on his own saliva.
Jungkook shrieks and takes a step back. “Nothing!”
“But you—”
“I don’t know!” Jungkook turns around and begins to walk away. His mind is yelling for him to stop. Dammit, his idol is right there, and instead of trying to keep the conversation going, he’s running away.
“W-Where are you going?” Taehyung asks. There’s a cute stutter in his voice, and Jungkook doesn’t even dare to turn around and have a look. He must look so adorable.
“It’s a private area! I can't be here.” Good one, Kook. Good job.
“But… We were talking.” Jungkook barely hears this, because it all comes out in a set of whispers.
For a second Jungkook thinks the other boy might follow him, but no. Taehyung stays there, staring at his back. Jungkook’s steps become faster as he thinks for a quick answer.
Taehyung speaks up again. “Jungkook?”
Now he knows his name. Oh God. He can’t have Taehyung knowing who he is. It’s not like they’re in the same class for him to ask about the “creepy guy who watched me dancing” anyway. Jungkook thanks the Twilight movies for the name that rolls out of his tongue in the next sentence dropping out of his mouth.
“I’m—don’t tell the teachers I was here!” he raises a hand, sending a quick glance behind him. “And my name is Jacob, not Jungkook! I lied! And my brother isn’t Park Jimin! I’m not Korean, I’m—Portuguese!”
“Park's brother?” Taehyung asks, but more to himself. Then he looks up, as if hoping to see Jungkook, but by now he has already run off, completely leaving the hallway.
Jungkook can feel sweat forming at the top of his forehead as he rushes down the stairs, hand on the railing. He jumps two steps at a time until reaching the floor that takes him to the dormitories.
Instead of going to his own bedroom, Jungkook dashes over to his brother’s, knocking on the door.
He can’t believe he just met his idol, and in the most embarrassing way possible. Honestly, he always saw himself meeting Taehyung by being partnered up for a recital or something, but not like this. He must think he’s some type of idiot.
God, he’s so embarrassing.
Jimin opens up, face covered with a green face mask. From the door, Jungkook notices half of his bedroom being completely empty. He’s glad Jimin has no roommate, because he’s able to push him inside and throw himself on the empty bed.
“Woah, what happened?”
Jungkook kicks his legs on the bed, face stuffed on the pillow. He mumbles into the cushion, “I just met Taehyung.”
Jimin snorts and closes the door, walking over to his brother. “Oh? And how did it go?”
“He must hate me.” His older brother tries to get him to lift his head from the pillow, but Jungkook is too much of a drama queen to do so. “He caught me watching him practice twice today. I must look like a stalker.”
“I mean…” Jimin begins to say, laughing softly. “You do have posters of him in your room back at home... Also, you’ve read his wikipedia and know almost everything—”
“Can you shut up?!” Jungkook groans while sitting up. He takes the pillow and slams it against Jimin’s chest. “That’s because I’m a fan of his! But I never thought I’d meet my idol like this!”
Jimin runs a hand down his hair once he has settled down, allowing Jungkook to rest his head on his lap.
“Don’t worry, Kook, I bet he didn’t think much about it. Was he kind? He's a nice guy.”
Jungkook thinks for a moment. All Taehyung really did was tell him he can’t be there, so yeah, he was not mean. He even tried to make him stay, which with all honesty confuses him.
The boy nods and purses his lips. “Yeah, he was kind. Do you know him?"
Jimin presses his lips together, falling silent. Jungkook waits for his reply, staring with wide eyes, but all his brother does is raise a hand and offer a so-so. “You know we have insights together. We work together a lot.”
“Is he a friend, though?”
“It's…” Once again his face falls into a bugged look. “It's all dance. Thanks to his mother. Anyway, so?”
“So? What do you mean?”
“So did you admit your love for him?”
The question is simple—another of Jimin’s constant teasing—and he’s sure a four year old would answer it faster than he ever would, but right now all he can think is how embarrassing it would be to see Taehyung again. Instead of handing over an eloquent answer, something as uncomplicated as no, Jungkook simply shrugs and sits up.
“So I have to wait a whole week to find out if I move forward, huh?”
“Great way to avoid the question,” Jimin says, “but, yes. Next week they will tell you. You can wait, can’t you?”
“I’m patient.”
“Sure you are.”
Jungkook decides to ignore his brother and instead prepare himself for what is to come in the upcoming week. There’s so much he has to do; lectures he has to attend, online classes because now that he’s done with actual school, he has to have a plan B, in case becoming a professional ballerina doesn’t work out.
The thought of failing stresses him out, but he hasn’t even obtained the exam results and he’s already beating himself up. He really needs to get his head out of his ass and begin thinking positively.
He uses the free week after exams to study and take full time classes in his dormitory. It’s annoying with his roommate, but after buying a pair of headphones with some birthday money he saved up, it all goes forgotten.
Whenever he is granted some free time, he heads for the practice room and gym, stretching himself and training a few more exercises. It’s the most relaxing week he has had in a very long time.
With sweaters way too big for his figure and a hoodie over his head, he tends to taunt around the private hallways, simply to get a glimpse inside the exclusive practice rooms. If Chan was here, he’d immediately know it is because of the talented dancer he met days ago, but considering he is away, Jungkook doesn’t admit it to anyone.
Everyday he goes back to his room with a discouraged heart.
His roommate is starting to send him questioning looks. Jungkook is even sure he talks with his Russian friends through Skype about him.
Whatever, he’ll be—hopefully—leaving soon to a better class and dorm.
After failing four days in a row to meet the dancer again, he eventually comes down to the conclusion that Taehyung isn’t practicing there anymore because of Jungkook’s creepy self. The boy stops going through the same hallway and instead focuses on his own priorities.
This only lasts a few hours, because next morning, after online lessons and ballet practice, Jungkook skips through the hallways again. This time, in difference of the past failed attempts, he finally detects soothing music coming from the practice room.
Jungkook squeals, then slaps a hand over his mouth, cursing at himself for being so loud.
He’s tiptoeing closer to the glass door. The music only gets louder with every step he takes. As soon as he’s in front of the door, he carefully pokes his head on the side. His heart begins racing as if it were the first time all over again.
Being able to watch Taehyung dance from so close is a true blessing.
Sadly, that blessing isn’t as powerful as he hoped for it to be, because the person inside the studio is the teacher, Samuel. He’s sitting on a chair in the corner, probably trying out the songs. He’s not even dressed in the appropriate attire to dance.
“Dammit.” Jungkook sighs and takes a step back.
Just when he begins to turn around to leave, a voice has him jumping. “What are you doing?”
“Fuck!” he gasps loudly, back slamming against the wall. “Holy fuck, Jimin, you scared me.”
What is Jimin doing here? He wishes to know too. “What are you doing here?”
“I dance here. Sometimes. Your turn.”
“I'm... not here, actually. This is a dream.”
His older brother squints his eyes and nods his head to the exit, forcing him to follow. “I’ll ask again, then. What are you doing? Did you get lost on your way back?”
“Uh, yeah. You caught me. I got kind of...lost.” His voice is slightly shaky. Jungkook tries his best to look away, knowing that if Jimin were to catch his eye, he’d be immediately caught red handed. “I was on my way to get my, um, results.”
Jimin hums. “Your results, you say?”
“Yes.”
The two walk slowly down the stairs. Jungkook can feel Jimin’s eyes digging holes into the side of his face. It’s as if he’s eating him alive, swallowing all of the lies Jungkook is sending his way.
There’s no way out of this one. Jimin must already know.
“Taehyung only uses that room late at night, you know?” Jimin says. Yep, he’s definitely caught.
“Ok?” Jungkook scoffs. “Why would I care?”
Jimin shrugs. “I don’t know. Just thought I should tell you I guess.” Sometimes Jungkook really hates his brother. “It’s not like you’ve been coming to this hallway almost every day of this week and trying to see him again.”
“Pff, yeah. Who would even do that.”
His brother smirks and shrugs. “Yeah, I wonder who.”
Jungkook sends him a look and begins to walk faster. They don’t talk for the rest of the way. Jungkook tells him to wait outside as he heads into the office for his evaluation results. There’s about twenty other students making a line in front of him. It makes him twice as anxious.
It all feels surreal. A folder with a bunch of papers holds his future.
If he makes it, then he’s a step closer to becoming a professional ballerina, but he fails, then he’ll have to either continue the current classes or leave the academy to go to actual college. There’s also the fact that if he continues with the current ballet lessons, then he’ll be the only nineteen year old in a class of younger students.
It takes about ten minutes to reach the front desk. The lady smiles kindly and gives him his folder. Jungkook walks out after thanking her.
Jimin rushes over and steals the folder away, holding it behind his body. Jungkook lets out an annoyed whine and tries to get it back, but his brother places a hand on his chest and has him wait. Sure, he’s shorter, but Jungkook doesn’t want to beat the crap out of his only sibling.
“I’ll read it and let you know.”
“No. I want to read it.”
“You can’t read,” Jimin says. “I’ll do it for you, little bro.”
Whenever a mischievous smile appears on the older’s face, Jungkook flies back to when he was younger. That smile would always be behind a low quality screen. He wishes he could have grown up watching him smile from up close.
The blonde boy shakes his head and opens the folder. “Allow me to tell you the bad news.”
Jungkook glares. “Stop making me scared! Just—hurry up! You’re so annoying.”
As if he has all the time in the world, Jimin unhurriedly flips through the pages. Jungkook can feel his legs giving out with nerves. Even though he knows he did well, there is also that one percent chance that he might fail.
Jimin gasps loudly. “Dude!”
“Just tell me I failed and go. I’ll become a gymnast and quit after breaking my back—”
“Can you shut up!?” Jimin squawks. His lips look funny, and his face is so bright it might as well leave Jungkook blind. Jungkook snaps his mouth closed and fakes zipping it, then throws the key somewhere on the floor. “You wanna know?”
“Yes please.”
“Jeon Jungkook,” Jimin wiggles his eyebrows and slowly flips the folder around. “You passed!”
Jungkook jumps with excitement and claps his hand like a madman. His body fills up with so much happiness, it feels like it’s going to explode. It’s the same sensation he felt when the academy first accepted him.
“So we’re moving in together?!”
“We’re moving in together, Kook!”
* * *
The weekend is spent making sure Jungkook doesn’t forget anything in his old dorm. His roommate tries to keep some of his stuff, but Jimin snatches it out of his hands every time he even tries to ask for something.
Jimin’s best friend, Min Yoongi (Korean who grew up in Paris) helps them with packing. Jungkook easily becomes friends with him, glad to know his brother doesn’t mind him joining his group of friends.
Yoongi is hilarious. He has a big gummy smile and bickers with Jimin whenever he says something stupid. They tend to point at each other and start making weird noises, as if that’s enough to communicate.
Jungkook finds himself smiling with their interactions. It reminds him of how much he misses Chan, his first real friend. He makes a mental note to call him tonight, or at least send a text with the good news.
When they get to his new dorm, two boys are inside and there are balloons on the white walls. One of them, and he’s the tallest and has silver like hair, a touch of blonde too, pops open a fake firework.
Confetti falls over Jimin’s bed, making him whine loudly. Jimin drops the bag he’s carrying and rushes to his bed, blowing on the colourful papers.
“Dammit, Joon! I told you no confetti!”
“I told him,” another of the boys accuses, raising his arms as if he’s innocent. “But he never listens! He has three more hidden under the pillow.”
Namjoon glares. “Seokjin, you’re an ass.”
“At least I have one.”
“Anyway!” Yoongi cuts them off. He drops a bag as well and closes the door of the dorm. “Namjoon, Seokjin, this is Jungkook, Jimin’s younger brother. Please stop embarrassing yourself and greet him.”
Jungkook flushes red and his eyes widen. Seokjin and Namjoon stare back with unreadable expressions. Yoongi nudges him on the side, so Jungkook slowly raises a hand and waves with an awkward smile.
“Uh—hi?”
“Hi, I’m Seokjin and you’re adorable!” Seokjin gasps and pushes the other boy towards him. “Namjoon, go make sure he doesn’t bite.”
“I... don’t bite. What does that even mean?”
Seokjin squints his eyes and points a finger towards his face. “That’s what they all say.”
His brother’s friends sure are the whole circus. Jungkook is too busy watching Yoongi and Jimin take out things from the bags to notice Namjoon taking a hold of his face. His eyes are wide as he stares deep into Jungkook’s, making his face become scarlet.
Seokjin appears next, standing beside Namjoon. He blinks and raises a finger, ready to poke Jungkook’s nose, but just when he’s close to doing so, Yoongi takes a hold of his wrist and pulls him back.
“Stop messing with him,” he sighs with annoyance. Jungkook watches the other two fall on Jimin’s bed. “Excuse them, they’re twins.”
“Fraternal twins!” Seokjin calls out. “I’m the good looking twin, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Jimin takes what is supposed to be Jungkook’s pillow and throws it to Seokjin’s face, making him yelp. Jimin taps Jungkook on the shoulder and switches to speaking in French. “No, they’re idiot twins. They have this weird thing where they always have to make sure people don’t bite.”
“Hey! English or Korean!” Seokjin accuses.
“You don’t know French?” Jungkook asks in English.
Namjoon replies instead, speaking English fluently. “He does, but not much. We’re both from Korea. I started to learn French when I was young, but he only started recently.”
“Oh, I see,” Jungkook replies. “I can help you with your French, Seokjin.”
“Thanks, little one.” Seokjin stands up and points at Jimin. “Anyway, what was it you said?”
“He was making fun of us for asking people if they bite.” Namjoon sits up as well and pushes Seokjin’s face away. “Allow me to explain, Jungkook.”
Jungkook really doesn’t want to hear the reason behind such a weird action, but either way he finds himself nodding. There’s a funny grin rising on Yoongi’s face, and it makes him smile too. He can already tell he’ll enjoy befriending these two.
What was supposed to be an “incredibly interesting” story turns out to be foolish. Apparently Namjoon and Seokjin have a kindergarten memory where the kids in their class bit their fingers for no apparent reason.
Jungkook tries to act as if it’s normal, and as if the story doesn’t have him wanting to slam a brick against his face for wasting ten minutes of his life listening to it. Jimin mouths for him to laugh, so he does.
“Also,” Namjoon says again. “Seokjin tested Jimin to see if he didn't bite and he did.”
“You were poking my nose nonstop!”
“You could have asked us to stop instead of biting!”
“I did!”
Namjoon dismisses him with a hand and tells him: “Anyway, that’s why we wanted to make sure you don’t bite, considering, you know, you’re blood related.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “We’re not.” This earns a look from his brother, but neither of them continue the conversation. The twins don’t ask more about it either.
An hour later, the room is back to normal, with Jungkook’s bed looking beautiful with his black covers and all of his clothes put away neatly inside his closet. His side of the room is quite different from Jimin’s, but it compliments each other into a cozy environment.
He falls on the bed and closes his eyes. A smile appears on his lips, looking soft, just like the rest of his face. He can hear Jimin showering in the bathroom, music playing loud, but not enough for it to become annoying.
Jungkook finds himself sighing.
With closed eyes, he remembers the boy he has failed to meet throughout the week. He can’t wait to see him again, and he’s sure that now he will be able to meet him more often. It is all thanks to passing his exam.
Moving into Jimin’s classes means he will have the opportunity to be in the same side of the building as the older students. Taehyung must be in one of those classes, so Jungkook will make sure to find him one way or another.
Now all he has to do is wait for Monday to come and hope for the best.
The bathroom door opens and out walks Jimi. He’s already in pajamas, plus a towel over his shoulders. Jungkook watches him dry his hair with it. When he’s done, Jimin hangs it back inside the bathroom and closes the door.
“Hey,” Jimin smiles. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Jungkook shrugs. Jimin raises an eyebrow at him, so the younger of the two sits up and sighs in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’m excited.”
“You should be. You officially made it to the best of the best!”
Jungkook allows the words to sink in, but as much as he wants to take the compliment, he still finds himself snorting. He’s not even close to being the best of the best; at least not until he is accepted into a well known company or dances beside Kim Taehyung.
“Don’t flatter yourself so much, Mimi,” he tells him.
Jimin gasps in offence throws him a bottle of face cream. Jungkook uses his pillow to cover himself from the impact of the object, giggling softly. His bed dips down and Jimin is taking a hold of the cushion, throwing it away.
“Take that back, you—”
“Never!”
“Bitch.” Jimin fakes a scowl and pushes him back. It’s all done softly, so the gentle push only has Jungkook cackling even louder, having to cover his mouth to stop the puffs of laughter. “You’ll be quite surprised, actually.”
“And why is that?”
“The younger students call our level the best of the best. I’m not even kidding.” Jungkook tilts his head with confusion, making his brother snort a laugh. “You call yourself a fan but you’re pretty bad at knowing his schedule.”
Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow as he asks, “Who’s? Taehyung’s?”
Jimin sighs with exasperation and takes a hold of Jungkook’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. Jungkook whines and tries to make him stop, but then Jimin is staring at him dead in the eye and saying a few words that cause all of Jungkook’s blood to turn cold.
“Jungkook, Kim Taehyung is in my ballet class.”
“W-What?”
“And now, not only is he my classmate, but also yours.”
It’s official, the world is clowning him. He is destined to make a fool of himself in front of the professional dancer. Jungkook will walk into his new class and Taehyung will immediately think, “Hey! That’s the creep!”
He’s screwed.
“Oh god, I think I’m gonna—Jimin, hold my noodles.”
“What? Which noodles?”
“Oh fuck.”
Jungkook faints right on Jimin’s arms.