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There’s three things Yoongi is pretty fucking certain about:
- His new roommate, Kim Seokjin, is gorgeous;
- Said roommate is currently taking his shirt off in the common area of their dorm;
- Yoongi’s kinda staring at him and it’s probably really fucking creepy.
To be fair, it’s not like he’s across the building with binoculars watching Seokjin take his shirt off. He just kinda sorta happened to walk out of the adjoining bathroom just as Seokjin started changing.
No big deal.
They’re roommates now. This is – this is totally normal. They would probably see each other change fourteen times a week on average. He’s pretty sure everyone with a college roommate would tell him this is a very normal occurrence. He’s actually also sure everyone with a college roommate has seen them naked at one point, too.
He shuts that thought down at once before it can go any further, because holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Seokjin’s just taking his shirt off, Jesus, it’s just a shirt, it’s just a bare back, it’s not even anything weird and he’s not even doing anything, so maybe Yoongi should breathe and maybe he should move and stop being a fucking creep and stop holding the doorknob like his life depends on it, squeezing the thing so hard his knuckles start turning white.
Or he should definitely at least breathe.
It’s not like he hasn’t noticed how impossibly broad Seokjin’s shoulders are before, or seen his admittedly impressive biceps underneath a short-sleeved shirt. He should’ve expected Seokjin’s entire body to be muscular. He should at least not be this surprised, but here he is, legs turning to jelly and mouth going a little dry at the sight. At least Seokjin can’t see him right now, with his back turned to the bathroom door.
But Yoongi should not be this mesmerized by the muscles in Seokjin’s back. By his skin shifting over his ribs, the flexing of his trapezoids underneath his skin when he raises his arms, the little dip of his spine where the curve of his back starts. By the contrast of the black boxers that peek out underneath his jeans with his tanned skin and the increasing amount of visible skin underneath the white fabric of his shirt sliding upwards –
‘Yoongi?’
Oh no. He’s turning around. This is a fucking nightmare.
Seokjin has abs. Seokjin has a chest and Seokjin has nipples and Yoongi is trying very, extremely hard to not stare at them because really, he’s not that much of a creep. If staring at the guy while he’s undressing wasn’t weird enough already then staring at his nipples would definitely be fucking weird.
It probably still takes him a fraction of a moment too long to shift his gaze to Seokjin’s eyes.
‘Yes?’
A little frown appears between Seokjin’s eyebrows and his head tilts to the left, and Yoongi tries not to think about how cute that really is.
‘Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
Not quite, he thinks. A really gorgeous, muscular ghost, maybe.
‘M-m fine,’ Yoongi manages, consciously keeping his eyes on Seokjin’s face. His heart shouldn’t be going this fast. ‘I just – I was just wondering if you’re, uh, up for a movie tonight?’
‘Sure,’ Seokjin shrugs, running a hand through his hair and oh God, is he trying to look hot now? ‘Let me just put on my PJ’s to be comfortable.’
‘Yeah. I’ll uh- I’ll pick the movie,’ Yoongi mutters with a weak hand gesture towards the TV. Seokjin nods, mouth curling up into a smile.
‘Okay,’ he smirks, turning back around to face his closet. ‘Try to not stare as much when I take off my pants.’