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Across the library, Kim Seokjin is studying and Jimin just thinks his heart might beat the whole way out of his chest. He’s vaguely aware that Taehyung and Jungkook are snickering at his side, because they are perhaps the worst wingmen ever, but Namjoon is unavailable, too busy being awkward with Yoongi (besides the last time Namjoon tried to do anything suave, he’d almost landed in hospital) and Hoseok point-blank refuses to help Jimin’s quest to win Seokjin’s heart, with cries about how he never wants his darling Park Jimin to ever grow up and experience the cruel and bitter world of rejection.
Funny. Because Jimin doesn’t even think he’ll get to the point where Seokjin will reject him. His thunder-thighs, as Halla likes to call them, are wobbling like jelly at this point, entirely unsuited to stand up and go anywhere, let alone confess anything to Kim Freaking Seokjin, who’s sitting across the library and studying, perfectly.
His hands. God, Jimin can write a poem about the soft curves of his hands (well no, he can’t, the last time he’d tried to write a poem, Namjoon had taken one look and had started howling with mortified laughter down the corridor, not even pretending to be nice about it like he usually did, asshole). But Jimin likes the way that Seokjin’s fingers curl around the book, and tap against the side of his cheek, and push his glasses up his face, and underline the words of the page when Seokjin seems to have more trouble concentrating.
And his shoulders. Oh god, Jimin can barely take his eyes away from the lines. Jimin’s whiled many a boring math lesson away, sketching out the perfect body structure of Kim Seokjin into the corners of his margins, only to be mercilessly mocked by Jungkook later, and get a confused expression from his math teacher who can’t understand why Jimin is suddenly pants at drawing triangles (or even drawing triangles at all during their probability unit). Oh, how Jimin longs to wrap his hands around Seokjin’s thin waist and bury his cheeks in the small indent between Seokjin’s shoulderblades (an indent that Jimin has studied many a time, sitting behind the elder male on their shared bus home) and press small kisses there, because that would be the perfect place to leave hickies.
And thinking about hickies marring the perfectly soft and tanned skin of Kim Seokjin can only lead to bad places, so Jimin coughs and tries to adjust his trousers under the table, ignoring Taehyung who looks close to expiring on the governmental textbook, laughing loud enough that the librarian assistants are giving them dirty looks.
“Stop looking disgusting.” Jungkook complains, his mop of black hair falling into his eyes as he scowls. “It’s hard enough to concentrate on my shit when you’re literally drooling.”
“Ignore it if it’s such a big deal, Jungkookie.” Jimin says, absently, sighing in absolute delight as Seokjin absently runs his hands through his hair, revealing a glimpse of his smooth perfect forehead (Jimin doesn’t know how Seokjin has managed to avoid the dratted acne that every other teenager in the school experiences, but Jimin is unreasonably jealous, despite thinking it entirely fitting that his angelic skin suited his angelic soul). Jimin pushes his hands through his hair, because he knows it makes him look about ten times more attractive (it figures, with his shitty hair cut) but Seokjin doesn’t seem to realize how half the school swoons when he so much as breathes, and that’s perhaps the worst part.
There is a loud snap and a flash, and Jimin momentarily turns from the perfect sight, to see Taehyung gripping his phone and howling even louder, loud enough that other students are now also glaring at them.
“Shut up, you idiot, what the fuck did you do?” hisses Jimin, under his breath, slapping Taehyung’s hands, insistently. Jungkook suddenly collapses into laughter as well and wheezes something about Snapchat, so Jimin fishes out his phone and goes to his story.
To his absolute horror, Taehyung has just about killed Jimin’s social life.
The worst part is probably that Jimin actually looks sorta good in the picture, because Taehyung’s photo skills are pretty bomb, even when his captions are going to ruin Jimin’s life.
“Noooooo, delete it, delete it!!” Jimin yells, diving across the table to try and wrestle the phone from Taehyung, who’s close to falling off his chair now, with how hard he’s laughing. Now practically everyone in the library is looking at them. Thank god the librarian is sort of deaf and is nice to him.
“Jimin-ah. Taehyung-ah. Jungkook.” says the pretty library assistant that Jimin vaguely knows to be called Yongsun, “If you don’t shut up right now, I’ll kick your asses across the room, okay?” Her smile is sweet and she instantly makes all three of them freeze and shut up, as they watch her turn and leave. Jimin reacts first, diving for Taehyung’s phone and deleting the picture from Taehyung’s snapchat, hoping with a burning passion that nobody screenshotted that or even saw it yet. It’s probably a forgone hope, without how unmotivated to work most students in this school are, but Jimin can dream.
“Aish.” complains Jungkook, pillowing his head in his hands, as they all subside to at least pretend to work. “I’m so bored.”
Taehyung exhales, briefly, before perking up, with a sly grin that Jimin does not like. Not even a little bit. That’s the smile which landed Jimin in five detentions last year, and that’s the smile that almost got Jimin kicked out the choral boys for almost upending the holy water banisters all over the advent wreaths and candles. Jimin straightens immediately, and gives Taehyung as suspicious glare when he opens his mouth to say, “I need a book.”
“Then go and get it, dumbass.” Jimin snaps, warily, not taking his eyes off Taehyung and the way his body seems to be thrumming with barely-hidden excitement right now.
“Come witttthhh me? Yongsun’s probably gonna murder me if I leave my seat without backup??” Taehyung pleads, leaning forward, eyes sparkly in a way that’s frankly even more terrifying. Jimin is about to shove Jungkook under the bus, when Taehyung starts making pathetic whimpering noises, the ones that make him sound like a puppy and it takes a serious amount of effort for Jimin to not melt into the floor. His best friend is a conniving, pretty, adorable bastard and absolutely knows it.
“Which book?” Jimin asks, with a heavy sigh, as he straightens up, tugs at his too-short blazer and follows Taehyung across the room, closer to where Seokjin is. Jimin’s instincts are starting to clamour for attention, but Taehyung’s chattering lowly in his ear about art history and papier maché and the history of that in sculpture, and it’s actually pretty interesting stuff, the sort of stuff that’s A+ material for class papers. It’s easy to get engrossed in that conversation as they search over the bookshelf, and Jimin almost forgets about Taehyung’s devious smile.
That is, until on their way back to their table, Taehyung sticks out his leg, without any warning, sending Jimin flying forward–
–and falling face-forward into Kim Seokjin’s side, cheeks smooshing perfectly against his thighs. They’re really nice thighs, surprisingly, considering that Seokjin’s workout routine at the gym near their home tends to focus on his upper body, but Jimin’s heart is pounding at approximately the rate of a mouse, and he’s sure that his palms are getting sweaty now, from the close proximity to the man of his dreams.
With a slow dawning horror, Jimin peels his face away from Seokjin’s lap and looks up at the face of an angel. Seokjin looked shocked, worried, and his eyes are wide, and absolutely gorgeous. From here, Jimin can see the flecks of gold in his otherwise plain brown eyes, and the small dark circles under his eyes, hidden well by his thick, square glasses. His lashes are longer than Jimin had expected, and this thought sends about a billion different exclamation marks through Jimin’s veins, until he’s sure that he’s practically shaking, at the wonder of seeing Kim Seokjin up close.
He stares for a moment, mouth wide and gaping, until he registers that the fact that Kim Seokjin’s pretty, pouty pink lips are asking something of him, and he pulls himself together as quickly as he can.
“–alright? That was quite a trip, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” asks Seokjin, gently, his voice higher-pitched than Jimin had thought, but soothing and nice on the ears. Jimin feels his cheeks warm suddenly, as he realizes that he’s still sort of bent over Seokjin and he straightens up as quickly as he can, stammering and blushing as he pulls away, ignoring the searing pain in his knees. That can’t be good for dance later, but of course, Seokjin is right there, and thoughts of his dance instructor shouting at him are about the furthest thing from his mind.
“Sorry sunbae! I didn’t mean to hit you, I hope you’re okay, please forgive me, I didn’t want to fall into you, but my idiot friend thinks he’s funny, and I’m sorry you got involve–”
“It’s alright!” reassured Seokjin, reaching his hand up to touch Jimin’s wrist, lightly. The contact is brief and fleeting, but Jimin’s knees start to wobble right there and then, as he slowly melts to jelly from the pure and simple fact that Kim Seokjin touched him. He knows that he, Hoseok and Taehyung are called motormouths for how much they can talk once they get started, but he feels absolutely dumbstruck when Seokjin smiles at him, his puffy, pouty (blowjob) lips pressing together and pulling up sweetly, as he tilts his head. It’s a sort of gorgeous that’s beyond unfair, and Jimin’s rapidly pounding heart just stops for a few instants, as he attempts to process the fact that Kim Freaking Seokjin is smiling at him.
“I’m not hurt.” Seokjin continues, oblivious that Jimin has just become a jpeg. “But I’m a little worried about you, are you alright?”
Jimin somehow manages to get a grip of himself (he thinks it’s a trick that Namjoon calls compartmentalization, you stick away everything that’s bothering you, go into autopilot, and then overobssess about every detail when you get home. It’s also one of the things that Taehyung and Hoseok like the beat out of him, but it’s very useful in this particular instant, since Jimin is more than aware that being a completely incoherent mess in front of his crush will only end badly. He’s been given a chance and he’s going to take it) and smiles at Seokjin, as sunnily as possible. “It’s alright, sunbae-nim. It hurts a little, but I’ll be okay.” he says, as sweetly as he can, noting that Taehyung has taken his books and fled over to Jungkook, where the two of them are giggling over this, as if it was reality TV.
“Hmm, is that so?” asked Seokjin reaching forward to rap his ruler against Jimin’s knees. Jimin tries to move out of the way, and yelps as the pain overwhelms his vision in a searing flash of red for just a moment. Shoot. This cannot be good. When the pain goes away, Seokjin is frowning at him. “I thought so. Get your stuff, I’m taking you to the nurse’s office.”
Jimin blinks for a couple of moments, before shaking his hands in front of him, frantically. “No, no, that won’t be necessary, sunbae, don’t worry about it–”
But Seokjin has already stood up and pulled on his backpack, and Jimin gulps, at the full-on figure of Seokjin standing tall, his perfect proportions and body and everything that Jimin finds attractive and wants to be, right there, in front of him. “Don’t be silly–Park Jimin-sshi, right?” he asked, his voice delicate. And Jimin’s mouth does drop open at this because how does Seokjin know his name, know about his existence– “You’re there everyday, taking the 2882-bus to–”
“Hap-dong.” whispers Jimin, with a nod. “I live like two blocks away from you.” he says, before realizing how stalkerish that sounds. But Seokjin doesn’t seem to notice, smiling gently at him, as he reaches forward to place a hand over Jimin’s shoulder, as he tugs them forward and out of the library. The pain is excruciating, but Jimin doesn’t exactly wan to ruin this moment at all, so he sucks it up and pretends that he’s doing just peachy.
“You’re in the choir too, at church, right?” asks Seokjin, cheerily, “I was in the choir as well, but I had to quit because of college entrance exams.” he explains, as if Jimin didn’t already know, as if Jimin hadn’t joined the choir for the sole reason that his huge massive crush was also in choir (even if now, choir was one of the places where he excelled most because of the pure simple joy of song). “How do you like there?”
Jimin makes an attempt at a smile, which is absolutely foiled by the fact that his kneecaps are throbbing slowly, in agony. “It’s one of my favourite places to be.” he says, breathlessly, a tone that comes from both his pain and the sheer dizzying experience of being close to Seokjin (with Seokjin’s hand!!!! on his shoulder!!!!!). “There’s nothing like singing.”
“Oh yeah, I totally agree.” Seokjin says, wistfully, his fingers flexing against Jimin’s muscles, sending a shudder down his spine, because how many times has he fantasized about Seokjin’s fingers. On him. In both innocent and sexual ways? “I miss it. You should make the most of it, before you have to give it all up.”
Jimin nods, as they pass Taehyung and Jungkook, who pull faces at him, a mixture between gross and hilarious. Jimin ignores them and pretends he doesn’t know them, as he continues to walk with Seokjin, his knees aching more and more with every step. “I think I want to be a music major, so I’m definitely not.” Jimin says, softly, with a gentle grin, trying to ignore that Kim Seokjin was speaking with him, pretending instead that it was another friendly sunbae who also took choir. “I’ll miss the church acoustics though, everything sounds better in a church.”
“It has to be the right one, though.” Seokjin says, voice amused, “I remember we sung at a very modern one, basically just a glorified shop, and it was absolute hell to be heard.”
“Oh yeah?” murmurs Jimin, but before he can ask for more details (because there is a story behind that and Jimin would do anything to hear Seokjin’s voice continue to talk at him), his knees buckle underneath him, until he is on the floor, feeling a bit dazed. “Ow.” he murmurs, rubbing his tailbone, feeling a stinging sensation prick at the side of his eyes, that he blinks away rapidly. Pain is no good reason to cry. Boys only cry during terrifying horror movies, when they spot a spider, or when they have just been rejected. Not for silly things like pain in his knees (which he is absolutely going to murder Taehyung for, this sort of pain means he won’t be able to dance for a good few days).
“Jimin-sshi!” exclaims Seokjin, looking horrified, as he drops to his knees and grips Jimin’s shoulder with a searing grip. “Are you alright?”
“…no, not really.” Jimin admits, as he tries to push himself properly upwards and fails. “I think I hit that table harder than I thought I did…”
He expects Seokjin to maybe give him a hands up, or attempt to brace Jimin against his side with one shoulder. What he doesn’t expect, is Seokjin to reach down and scoop him up, bridal-style, with a surprised ‘oof’, as he registers Jimin’s weight.
(Jimin personally thinks he’s died and would like to thank all of the angels in heaven for fulfilling his fantasies during the final moments on Earth, because this is absolutely unreal. If he’d known that all it took to get Kim Seokjin to scoop him up like a sack of potatoes was to get Taehyung to trip him up, he would have injured himself much earlier than this)
“You’re heavier than you look.” comments Seokjin cheerily, making Jimin’s breath kick-start again, as they continue to walk down the corridor. Seokjin is extremely nonchalant about this whole affair, despite several jealous girls and guys staring at the two of them, out of their classrooms, eyes wide with confusion, and Jimin is sure that if he hadn’t already been bright tomato red before, he would be now. This will be across the entire school by the end of the day,. and Jimin doesn’t know whether to be mortified or extremely proud.
“I work out…” Jimin says, shyly, and Seokjin chuckles, a high tremour against Jimin’s figure, and god. God. What was this? It was like being blessed by above! Seokjin’s laughter was cute, and it really didn’t suit the guy who’d just scooped up Jimin like he was nothing, but yet, it was perfect for Seokjin at the same time. Jimin ducks his head against his own chest, trying to hide exactly how happy he is to be here, in Kim Seokjin’s muscled arms, cradled against his chest and shoulders, staring up at his perfect face and lips and hair.
“Right, right, I almost forgot. You go to the same gym I go to. I wonder why we haven’t talked before, seems we run the same social circles. You’re Namjoon’s friend, right?” asks Seokjin, curiously, and mostly to himself. At least, Jimin hopes it’s to himself, because the only answer that Jimin has, is the fact that he has been hopelessly crushing on the elder boy for the past two years, and that their similar social circles and similar habits are not entirely coincidence. It’s just a helpful bonus that the activities that Seokjin tends to enjoy, also tend to be activities that Jimin finds fascinating beyond belief, even when Seokjin isn’t around. He supposes he has Seokjin to thank for that.
Jimin coughs, awkwardly. “Just…not our luck, right?” he asks, with a soft smile, that Seokjin returns without hesitation, as they reach the nurses’ office.
“Well, how about it we make it our luck?” asks Seokjin. His voice is a little patronizing, the way you talk to cute things, but Jimin thinks that it’s a start. Cute things are things you want to be around, and the more that Jimin is exposed to Seokjin, the easier it will get to be normal, and the easier it will be the seduce him. There’s a plan.
He pushes the door open and deposits Jimin on the closest bed, before going to talk to the nurse, quietly. Jimin watches the tall, stooping figure of Seokjin, his jacket perfectly hugging the dashing lines of his figure, and the way he nodded attentively at the nurse, and decides that yes. He made an excellent choice of people to crush on.
Seokjin turns around, and shoots Jimin a thumbs-up as the nurse roots around for her stethoscope and Jimin returns it, with the sunniest, most pretty smile he can manage, with the butterflies in his chest only multiplying, as he thinks about what may be an upcoming friendship.
Take that, Hoseok-hyung, he murmurs internally, as he watches Seokjin laugh a little, cheerily. I can too do something without getting rejected. Admittedly, he hadn’t quite confessed yet, but well. He would. Soon. Probably. Maybe.