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It’s been so long since he had last dated. That being back in freshman year. Even since then he had, had bad luck with dates. He loves to meet new people but this string of bad dates says otherwise.
This time he had matched with someone on Tinder.
Jimin knew better. He swore he knew better.
There was something about Jaehwan’s profile — maybe the suspiciously good lighting in all his gym selfies, or the fact that he captioned one of them with “Me and my two best friends” — that screamed bad idea. Maybe it was that all his pictures had him showing his body and no other information about him. But he was a weak man. Jimin was weak for muscles. And yet, like a moth to a protein shake-scented flame he swiped right.
“Maybe he’s just… confident,” Jimin muttered to himself while scrolling through his posts and then went on Instagram. Sure he had swiped right, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to make sure it wasn’t a catfish. After spending some time doing that, he walked kept his phone away, now waiting outside a trendy smoothie bar downtown. “Confidence isn’t a crime.”
Except, boy he was wrong.
Because the very next moment Jaehwan walked in wearing a tank top in February and flip-flops; immediately said, without even greeting:
“You don’t look like your profile pic.”
Jimin blinked, trying to understand the comment.
“Uh… thanks?”
“No, I mean, you’re hotter,” Jaehwan added with a wink. “But like don’t catfish anyone, okay?”
Jimin screamed internally. He wanted to run there and then. But the sweet guy he was, he decided to go through it. Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm went off. It was as if the universe was signing him to get away from there.
They sat down, and Jaehwan immediately launched into a fifteen-minute speech about his "gains journey." Apparently, it had started in high school when he was "just a skinny boy with dreams and dumbbells," and now he was on a strict bulking schedule that required six meals a day, two protein shakes, and absolutely no “negative energy.”
Jimin sipped his kale-pineapple smoothie and made vague humming noises to hide his despair. That was the day his patience got tested.
“Anyway, chest days are sacred,” Jaehwan was saying. “No distractions. No mercy. That’s when the real gods are made.” He moved back on his seat, manspreading as if he owned the place.
He then whipped out his phone and made Jimin watch a ten-minute gym video—complete with dramatic zoom-ins and background music that could only be described as epic war horns meets techno drops. At one point, Jaehwan paused the video, pointed to the screen, and said, “Look at the definition on that— bam —see that? That’s peak human evolution.”
“You should consider motivational speaking,” Jimin offered, only half-sarcastic.
Jaehwan took it seriously. “I’ve been told that, yeah. But like, for now, I just focus on the grind, you know?”
Jimin tried to change the subject, asked about books but just a few moments later the other would be back on his topic of body and muscles and workouts.
“I don’t read fiction,” Jaehwan said, almost offended. “Fiction’s for people afraid of reality. I read meal prep blogs and finance articles.”
Movies? Jimin wondered.
“Only documentaries. Or stuff with The Rock.” Came the answer.
Hobbies? Jimin wondered once again.
“Lifting. And Instagram.”
Jimin nodded slowly, chewing on the straw of his smoothie like it might save him from this purgatory. Regret quite visible on his face.
Things somehow got worse when the waiter came over and Jaehwan requested his drink be “made with oat milk, one scoop of whey, no sugar, no fruit—just vibes of alpha masculinity.”
Jimin considered throwing himself into traffic. He wanted to just up and leave but that would be rude, wouldn’t it?
“I actually started this thing where I manifest my goals by flexing in front of a mirror every morning,” Jaehwan added proudly. “Affirmations and aesthetics, bro.”
Did he just call him bro?
“Do you—uh—ever talk to your reflection?” Jimin asked cautiously.
Jaehwan didn’t blink. “Only to hype myself up.”
Ten more minutes passed, and when Jaehwan pulled out his phone again to show Jimin his bicep progress collage titled ‘2018 vs GOD’ , Jimin excused himself to the restroom.
The excuse was obvious. He was obviously done, that was his last straw. He never came back.
Climbed out the tiny back window like a Mission: Impossible escapee and booked it down the alley. Courtesy to the years he had spend dancing because no way a stiff body would have been able to fit through that tiny window.
He didn’t even feel guilty.
Not even when Jaehwan sent a text an hour later:
yo u good???
missin out on arm day and love lol 😤💔
hit me up when u ready for a real man.
Jimin stared at his phone. Then deleted Tinder for exactly two days and three hours.