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Park Jimin had just gotten home from another night of dance practice that had brought him to his knees as soon as it was over. Which then proceeded to him being sprawled on the shiny practice room floor, in full starfish-stance, earning him a scolding from a stern - but equally exhausted and an equally sprawled Jung Hoseok.
"Your nasty sweat is gonna ruin the floor," Hoseok had griped, but it had also been muffled because his own sweat-shined face was pressed into the aforementioned floor.
Meanwhile, Jeon Jeongguk, the youngest of the three, was still fucking practicing to the elders' dismay.
Jimin wanted to cry just looking at the kid. "Hey, Jungkookie, give it a rest," he said, voice hoarse. "I'm gonna pass out just watching you."
Jungkook had flashed him a large bunny grin in the mirror. "Jimin, I know I'm exquisitely stunning, but there's no need to faint."
Jimin had snorted at this. "That's hyung, to you. Fucking rascal."
It took him a few more minutes before he dragged himself up from the floor that was, admittedly, slightly more slick than it was before because of his sweat - don't tell Hoseok-hyung - and grabbed his bag from the front corner of the room.
"I'm gonna head home," Jimin announced, although there was no point seeing as Hoseok was half dead and quite unresponsive and Jungkook was blasting his IU music ridiculously loud in those earbuds of his.
Jimin gave lazy wave, which earned him no response - surpise, surprise! - before letting the practice room door fall shut behind him.
And then it was the dreaded walk back to the apartment, all the way across campus, and across the street.
Jimin might have cried a little thinking about it, but don't tell anyone.
He had made it, barely, with a minimal number of stops - i.e. breathing breaks, a few possibilities of passing out.
Jimin had seriously considered just sleeping on the bench located outside the apartment building, but that didn't exactly seem the most safe option.
When he finally did make it into his apartment, he nearly fell face-first onto the floor.
He probably would have just slept that way, with his face pressed into the floor and rubbing against the huge blotch where, for some reason, someone had spilled quite a large amount of nail polish remover, stripping the laminate floor of its gloss in that specific area.
Anyways.
"You're still studying?" Jimin had asked, although not actually that surprised when he found Kim Taehyung plopped down on the open floor space between the back of the couch and their tiny kitchen, sheafs of papers scattered around him, several open textbooks, a dripping orange popsicle - Jimin preferred cherry himself, but hey, everyone's got different tastes - a pencil tucked behind his ear and his phone in his free hand, laptop in his lap.
Needless to say, Kim Taehyung was a fucking disaster and an actual mess but he was Jimin's best friend anyway.
"Park Jimin, do you even know me at all?" Taehyung had said in reply, taking a rather large chunk off the popsicle. "And I'm not studying," he continued, talking around the orange-flavored chunk of ice in his mouth. "I'm writing my stupid paper on the connection between videogames and anime and brain damage." He paused. "Which I don't agree with, but hey, it's easier to write than the other position."
"Clearly," Jimin said, glancing from his best friend, to the tangled wires of the controllers of their many videogame consoles on their TV stand, and then thinking of the several One Piece and Haikyuu posters tacked to Taehyung's bedroom wall.
"It's a lifestyle choice, Jimothy," Taehyung said cheerfully, "You should try it sometime." He shot Jimin some finger guns before somehow managing to stuff the rest of the damn popsicle into his mouth and tossing the popsicle stick onto what looked like psychology notes, leaving a bright orange streak on them. Taehyung glanced at it and shrugged. "Not like I was ever gonna look at those anyway." He cracked his knuckles noisily before letting out a heavy sigh. "Isn't it beddy-bye time for you, Chims?" Taehyung asked, setting down his phone and typing quite alarmingly rapidly on his laptop.
Of course, it was to be expected, because Kim Taehyung hadn't reached one of the highest levels on League with slow fingers.
Dirty connotation not intended, but certainly sort-of-kind-of implied.
"Nope. Gotta shower or I'll be sleeping in my own filth," Jimin replied, already looking forward to the hot water washing away his blood, sweat, and tears.
Mostly sweat and some tears, but no blood.
At least not yet.
"We've got a new neighbor, by the way," Taehyung informed him, not looking up from his laptop screen. "He moved in today."
"How do you know?" Jimin questioned, raising his eyebrows as Taehyung dug through a stackful of notes that definitely did not belong to him. In fact it was quite neat, uniform handwriting and Jimin knew for a fact that Taehyung's writing was actual shit.
"I was looking out the peephole for like tweny minutes waiting for the pizza delivery guy," Taehyung replied dismissively, still type type typing away on his laptop.
"Oh, you mean the pizza box that you clearly didn't fucking throw away and left on the counter?" Jimin asked dryly, and Taehyung's reply was a roll of the eyes and a flat look.
"Don't give me that shit, Jimothy," Taehyung warned. "I was elbow deep in vegetable and fruit pulp during your goddamn juicing phase, so don't speak, shortie."
Jimin's face reddened considerably.
Clearly, Taehyung had taken a step too far.
"Excuse me, you goddamn rude dickmonger," Jimin began, eyes flashing and face turning pink. "You are toeing the line here."
Taehyung knew that Jimin's height was a bitter topic and the goddamn jerkwad still brought it up.
"Who the hell uses the word ' dickmonger '," Taehyung asked, bemused and not quite fearing for his life like Jimin had hoped.
"I will murder you in your sleep, Kim Taehyung so God help me," Jimin fumed.
"Relax, Yugyeom likes the short, cute type," Taehyung continued, unconcerned and still typing away.
"I'm over Yugyeom."
"Mhmm."
"Shut the fuck ."
"Didn't say anything."
Jimin stood there glowering until he remembered that he was exhausted and instantly deflated into the bitter, tired lil munchkin he was.
(Don't let him hear you call him that, or the violence that ensues will not be taken responsible for by anyone.)
"Your boyfriend has frighteningly strong stamina," Jimin said, resigned and actually the embodiment of the word ' done' as he navigated his way through the mess of papers on the floor with the expertise of someone who could sidestep neurology notes in their sleep.
Taehyung grinned as the older, orange-haired boy grabbed a water bottle from the small fridge. "You don't have to tell me," he said, box grin widening. "I know. Trust." There was a pause. "He's like the energizer bunny."
Jimin gagged and closed his eyes, scrunching his nose. " Christ , please don't talk about your sex life with Jungkook in front of me."
"I didn't say anything, Jimothy," Taehyjng sang cheerfully. "It was an implication, not an actual dissertation. Also, you brought it up."
"How can you be using such big words at this time of night," Jimin muttered, stepping carefully around Taehyung in order to get to his bedroom door. "And you used dissertation wrong," was his last statement before letting his door fall shut behind him.
He sprawled, this time, on his bed, duffle bag thrown carelessly on the floor and his arms spread out like he was about to make a bedsheet-angel.
But the sprawling was short-lived when he realized that if he didn't get up for his shower soon, he never would never take it and most probably end up sleeping in the exact position he had collapsed.
"I hate dancing."
Those three words couldn't be farther from the truth but as Jimin dragged himself up and over to his underwear drawer, it was what his exhaustion led him to believe, for the time being.
And as he showered, savoring the blistering water easing over his sore muscles, he sang, something he didn't do often - although according to Taehyung, he had the voice of heaven's angels and then some.
(However that was Taehyung while drunk and Jimin wasn't sure if his disaster of a best friend had been completely truthful and speaking from the heart, or was completely hammered out of his mind. He chose to believe the former for the sake of his ego.)
"Yah! Hurry, I need to take a piss."
"What? Move slower?" Jimin replied, in a considerably better mood, at least, enough to consciously decide to be an ass.
"Jimothy this is no goddamn joke, I will fucking pee on the floor right now and it will not be me who has to clean it up," Taehyung bellowed, albeit with a pathetic whine in his deep timbre of a voice. "Stop being such an evil dickwad for once."
Jimin opened the door with a grin, towel wrapped around his lower half, still dripping. "I'm never evil," he said, faking an aghast tone.
Taehyung didn't reply, only scuttled past the boy and quickly yanked down his pants and released what was a crudely noisy stream of urine.
"You couldn't have waited, like, two seconds for me to leave the bathroom," Jimin asked, starting to pull the door closed as he left the bathroom. He paused. "Were you not wearing underwear?"
"Don't pretend you haven't done that before," Taehyung replied breathlessly, his expression one of vulgar pleasure as he continued to fucking pee . He looked fucked out and the only reason why Jimin knew what that looked like was because he had made the mistake of coming home too early after a two-day-and-three-night sexiling.
Never again.
"Um, bye," Jimin replied, shutting the door quickly and walking back to his room, highly uncomfortable and wishing he hadn't seen that look on Taehyung's face, especially after having promised to himelf that would never expose himself to such trauma again.
Alas, there he was, sour look on his face as he pulled on a pair of sweats - without underwear - and still quite highly discomforted forty five minutes later when looking over his dance practice video to monitor for mistakes.
Jimin's eyes had just begun to droop and so he called it a night, shutting his piece of shit laptop - the only kind he could afford as an economically stunted college student - and tossing it onto the pile of clothes on the floor at the end of his bed.
He was just slipping into that sweet spot, the greyish area between consciousness and sleep when he was jolted awake by a dull thump thump thump .
"God fuck, is the neigbor already fucking people?" Jimin nearly cried, glaring at his ceiling. "I swear to all that is holy - "
There came the thumping again, but that time, Jimin listened closely and realized that it was not the sound of a headboard hitting against his wall, but the short kind of thumping, like the thumping of a hammer against wood or a nail.
Which was only worse because it was so much louder and unrelenting and it was fucking 2AM for fuck sakes.
It went on for several minutes, and it seemed like it would never end until -
" God fuck me !"
Jimin's eyebrows shot up because not only did that not come from him, the voice that it did come from sounded kind of hot but that was beside the point.
"Why are there no words in this fucking instruction manual?"
Jimin couldn't help but giggle at this.
"I fucking hate iKEA."
Never in all of his twenty one years did Park Jimin ever think that he would be knocking on the door of a complete stranger to offer his services and assistance in putting together what sounded like an iKEA bed.
But ponder that - there he was, standing in front of his neighbor's door, fist raised with the intention of knocking.
Cue the hesitance.
"Shit, what if he's some psycho killer?" Jimin muttered to himself, chewing his bottom lip in concern.
Park Jimin should have been a lot more than just concerned . But that was beside the point.
"Watcha doin' there short stop?" asked an irritatingly deep timbre of a voice.
"I swear to God, and Satan and whoever the fuck that if you call me short stop one more time - just one more time! - I will personally make sure that you will never be able to have children."
"Quite a bit of swearing going on, isn't there?" Taehyung grinned, very quite amused because there was so much bitterness and so much anger in that little sprite of a body.
Fairy-like, elf-like body.
If Jimin had even gotten wind of such thoughts in Taehyung's mind, one would never see the doe-eyed, deep-voiced Daegu mess of a boy ever again.
Or, maybe one would.
At the bottom of a dumpster.
Because Park Jimin didn't fuck with people who gave him shit about his height, the bitter little bitch.
Anyways, Jimin was still standing in front of angry-neighbor's door, fist still poised to knock.
"Well? Are you gonna knock or not?" Taehyung asked, ambling over to join Jimin in front of the door.
Jimin screwed up his face in concentration and decided -
"I'm not gonna do it. Besides what if he's a serial killer - ?"
Jimin had barely gotten the word 'killer' out before that little shit dickwad Kim Taehyung had knocked three times on the neighbor's door, loudly, before sprinting away back into their own apartment, slamming the door shut.
All could be heard were Taehyung's rumbling giggles and the sound of every single lock on their door being done.
"You'll thank me later, Jimothy!"
Jimin's eyes widened with shock before narrowing and he could feel the heat of panic rising up his neck. "I swear I will fucking murder - oh fuck. Um. Hi there."
"Can I help you?"
The voice was a slow drawl, lazy and definitely sleepy and definitely annoyed - but Jimin suspected it was more annoyance at his lack of ability to put together an iKEA bed, rather than annoyance at Jimin himself.
"Um, actually, I was gonna offer you my help," Jimin replied, mentally hanging himself for the stutter in his voice and becoming even more aware of the slight lisp in his manner of speaking.
He was halfway savoring his mini daydream about his death when the guy finally replied.
The guy raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side. "Um, what?"
"Well I think my room is on the other side of the wall from yours and the insulation isn't all that great because this building is far from soundproof and I could hear you raging about the lack of written words in an instruction manual and I couldn't sleep and also I figured it must be an iKEA bed or something that you're putting together because those instruction manuals don't have words and I'm actually really fucking good at doing those so I was wondering if you maybe want my help - but if you don't then it's fine I'll just listen to music to drown out the noise and - "
Jimin's spazz attack rambling was interrupted - thanks to all that is holy and satanic that he was - and he sighed in relief because if he had word vomited any more than he already did, Jimin thought that he might have actually hung himself.
Or never allowed himelf to leave the apartment again to spare the world of his spazz attack awkwardness.
Same thing.
"Yeah, I'd appreciate your help actually," the guy cut in, a little twitch at the corners of his mouth as if he were about to smile. "I'm Min Yoongi."
Jimin smiled his brightest smile, despite the heat crawling up his neck from embarrassment. "Park Jimin."
It was nearly three AM in the morning and there Park Jimin was, sitting on the bedroom floor of his new, extremely cute, extremely fucking attractive neighbor.
The guy had porcelain, glowing skin, with quite possibly the cutest nose he had ever seen, dyed grey hair, and this gummy smile that he rarely showed but when he did, Jimin swore he had never been so fucking fond.
There was little talking about anything else other than what it was that the pair had to do next in order to put the bed together.
It was quite a nice one, minimalistic looking and simple, with clean edges and - well, nice bed aside, the point was that there was no conversation.
And so Jimin decided to change that - no matter how horribly he knew it was going to go.
As one may have noticed earlier, Jimin was a spazzy rambler, and a really fucking awkward and embarrassing one at that. Nervousness tended to fuck with his mind and made him say stupid shit he never would ever say if he had been thinking straight, but alas, good-looking college boys made Jimin nervous and he was absolutely fucked when it came to Min Yoongi.
It'd be nice to be fucked by him too but that was beside the point - Jimin had just met the guy and was already having one of his completely unrealistic fantasies.
Anyways.
"So, like," Jimin began, and he was already mentally berating himself for the 'like' because it was grammatically unnecessary and why the fuck was he worry about grammar at a time like this? "Do you go to school at the uni across the street?"
Yoongi paused his twisting of a screw for a moment to narrow his eyes very briefly at Jimin before nodding reluctantly. "Yeah. I'm a music production major. Minor in composition." Another pause before he resumed his work. "You?"
"Yeah," Jimin replied, avoiding Yoongi'a gaze then and distracting himself by staring quite intensely at the instruction booklet. "I'm a dance major. Minor in business because I gotta keep the dear parents happy."
"I was majoring in medicine, but I decided to fuck it and do what I want," Yoongi said, and Jimin was not expecting this tidbit of extra information and he couldn't help but think that it might have been a sort of open door, a kind-of invitation to continue making conversation - or Jimin is reading into things too much and God knows he doesn't do that very often ha, ha. (He totally did.)
"Wow, that's brave."
"I mean, I guess, but it's also kind of a selfish dickwad move, but it's also a self-fulfilling move. I'd rather be happy making no money than depressed out of my ass with a fuckton of money, you know?"
Jimin looked up from the instruction booklet, finally, and met Yoongi's eyes, flushing slightly when he saw how intensely the guy was looking at him.
"Yeah, that's true," Jimin admitted, and Yoongi offered him a half smile, a gummy one at that, and that prompted Jimin to smile as widely as ever, before lookong back down at the instruction booklet. "Next bit is gonna be the headboard."
>>
"So, like," Yoongi said, mimicking Jimin from earlier.
The tangerine-haired boy rolled his eyes, giving Yoongi a fake-annoyed look, earning him a quick grin, one that disappeared as quickly as it came, but still kind of left Jimin's breath stuttered and hitched.
"Who were you threatening to murder when I opened my door? Also, why?"
Jimin scowled instinctively, thinking of his disaster of a best friend, remembering the way the evil fuck had giggled as he ran away after knocking on Yoongi's door. "Oh. Him. He's my roommate. And kind of my best friend but don't tell him I said that because I'll never hear the end of it."
"Please, I know what you mean. Show someone the slightest ounce of a hint that you give fuck about them and they pounce all over you," Yoongi says, an amused chuckle in his tone. "I, too, have an obnoxious best friend. He's supposed to be my roommate but he won't be moving in till later because of some reason I don't recall caring enough to listen to."
"Why are we actually the same person?" Jimin deadpanned, earning him another quick grin, but added, "I care a lot though. I do. And I show it too. But I also get pissed off really easily and often, so people see that more than the other."
"I mean, I look like I don't give a fuck, I act like I don't give a fuck, but in reality I do give a lot of fucks. Mostly for people I actually care about which are few and far between, but still," Yoongi said thoughtfully. "I come off as a cold dick, I guess."
"My favorite kind of dick!" Jimin said.
Jimin thought that he may have made it into the hall of fame for 'stupid things said to cute boys'.
It kind of just slipped out, Park Jimin didn't actually mean to say something as stupid as that but there it was, his five worded mistake and regret hanging in the air between the two of them and there was a slight pregnant pause before Yoongi snorted with quiet and quick laughter that made Jimin warm and turned him pink.
"Okay, so why did you threaten to kill your roommate?"
Jimin is glad for the subject change.
"Because I had changed my mind about knocking on your door because I had a realization that you could have been a serial killer or some shit and I didn't want to lose my life or this beautiful face at such a young age," Jimin replied, and Yoongi's eyes sparkled. "And then that bitch knocked on your door and ran away."
"How do you know I'm not actually a serial killer?" Yoongi challenged, smirk pulling at his lips. "How do you know I haven't just been softening you up so I can just end you and your beautiful face when you least expect it."
Jimin pondered for a moment as he twisted in the last screw of the whole bed-building process before shrugging. "I mean, then the last thing Taehyung said to me would be 'you'll thank me later, Jimothy' and I'd like to think that that'd be one big 'ha, told you so' on my part," Jimin remarked thoughtfully. "I'm ready, Min Yoongi, serial killer extraordinaire. End me now."
Jimin paused for a moment because what Yoongi had said moments before had finally set in. He flushed and cleared his throat awkwardly. "...did you just agree that my face is beautiful?"
Yoongi laughed, a real laugh that time and right then, Jimin could have sworn that he'd never been so in like before, and he'd only known Yoongi for the better part of two hours.
There was a long couple of moments where Jimin and Yoongi just sat there smiling like actual sappy idiots before Yoongi broke the silence by saying something that took Jimin by complete surprise, but also had him flushing like there was no tomorrow.
Which there wasn't, because already, the first light of dawn was peeking through the un-curtained windows of Yoongi's room.
"Would it be too forward if I were to ask you if you wanted to help me test the durability of the bed?"