Chapter Text
{If you haven’t read the notes, please do that now, thank you.}
--
Theoretically 400 minutes is a long time, a lot can change in 400 minutes. 400 minutes is almost seven hours.
You can write an essay in 400 minutes
You can go to school in 400 minutes.
You can drive to a different state in 400 minutes.
You can fly to a different country in 400 minutes.
You can ruin a long lasting relationship in 400 minutes.
You can fall in love in 400 minutes.
You can die in 400 minutes.
Your whole world can change in just 400 minutes.
--
As far as being prepared for his first day at college goes, Min Yoongi was definitely already failing in that aspect. He somehow went with the logic of ‘Maybe if I stare at this ceiling long enough my things will just pack themselves’ as expected, his plan was a bust.
He didn’t have much left to put into boxes, just everyday items that he couldn’t pack ‘til last minute, but the minor task still seemed like too much right now, seeing as Yoongi was both mentally and physically exhausted.
The days leading up to his leave for college were mostly uneventful, between receiving wishes of good luck and emotional farewells, there wasn’t much to it. But for some reason the whole process was daunting, leaving everything you’ve ever known to lead your own independent life was scary and overwhelming and Yoongi wasn’t sure he was ready for such a large change. He could barely manage being left for days alone, never mind years.
But the idea of freedom was thrilling to the core, knowing that he could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, was fucking amazing. He wouldn’t have parents to nag him about making his bed or sleeping in on weekends, his life was in his own grasp and he loved it. Unless he roommate was as a dull as an old shrivelled prune, which he prayed and prayed would not be the result. But he didn’t decide these things, so all he could do was remain hopeful.
A persistent knock on his door distracted him from his thoughts, making him shift into an upright position. He quickly made it look like he was occupied, folding a random hoodie on his bed.
“Yoongi?” A voice called from the outside, the familiar tone relieving Yoongi, throwing the hoodie back into its crumpled form. He smiled.
“Namjoon,” He stood up, straightening his plain t-shirt by pulling down the hem, “Come in.”
Namjoon waltz in with a wide smile on his face, his excitement very apparent. Namjoon had been anticipating college since their first year in high school, over exaggerating the amount of fun they were seemingly going to have, like classes didn’t even exist. He was that kind of guy after all, somehow finding a positive outlook on most things, Yoongi appreciated him for that.
“Are you ready college boy?!” He shot finger guns at Yoongi, jumping into the room. Yoongi rolled his eyes, but he could feel himself bubbling up inside. This was the kind of change he needed, he felt like he had been in a rut for so long that college was finally the opportunity for him to start fresh. He felt genuinely happy for the first time in a long time, his heart was light.
“You’re also a college boy,” He pointed out, picking up some boxes off the floor, “Going to the same college, as a matter of fact.”
It had only been 30 minutes since Yoongi woke up from his mother excitedly shaking him into consciousness, reminding how today was ‘ The first day of the rest of his life’. He just threw on a t-shirt and ripped jeans sheepishly, Namjoon was accompanying him to college so he didn’t need to try impress anyone, he had the only friend he ever needed right with him.
“I know, it’s crazy. I’ve been looking forward to this for so long, and now it’s finally here. It’s surreal. Everything is in my uncle’s van already, my mom already cried three times. It’s finally happening,” Namjoon was looking thoughtfully out the window, Yoongi feared that he was gonna start crying, but luckily he held it together.
“I’m here to help you pack,” Namjoon spoke, snapping out of his emotional state, “I knew you wouldn’t be ready, y’know, just you being you and all.”
Namjoon knew Yoongi all too well, his behaviour was way too predictable. Yoongi didn’t know where he would be without Namjoon’s mature guidance, late for his first day of college would probably be one of them.
--
It had been 290 minutes since Yoongi had woken up that day.
“We’re here I think I just shat out my lungs,” Namjoon whispered behind Yoongi as they were waiting to sign in and find out their room numbers.
Yoongi snorted, Namjoon had the tendency to over exaggerate situations to the max, but it was oddly amusing. Without him, he would be too concentrated on his own nerves for his own good. He was mainly concerned about his new roommate, as he did, seemingly, have to spend numerous years with said person. He didn’t care much about the impression he made, it wasn’t really about making friends, he just wondered if they could have fun or not, that’s what mattered.
“Wouldn’t it be cool if we were roommates Yoongi?” Namjoon was jiggling up and down, Yoongi wanted to assume it was purely to distract him from his own thoughts, otherwise he was concerned.
“Mhhmmm,” He hummed in agreement, analysing the entrance, “But that’s not realistic.”
You couldn’t see much of the sheen, dull room, as a flood of bodies covered almost every inch of it. You could see the light grey walls and the odd poster hung with a thumbtack, but other than that it was just a large room with shiny lino flooring. It reminded Yoongi of a hospital, the same unnerving smell filled his nostrils, causing him to crinkle his nose in distaste.
“Pessimistic, as usual,” He sighed into Yoongi’s neck, making him flinch and slap his arm. The line was moving relatively fast, Yoongi wasn’t prepared.
“I prefer the term realist.”
Before Yoongi knew it he was standing in front of the lady with a mass of pens tucked into her tangled, messy hair. She stuttered on her words a lot and got flustered, constantly fixing her glasses placement on the bridge of her nose. It didn’t really make the experience more pleasurable for Yoongi, having to repeat himself awkwardly, loudly pronouncing each syllable of his name.
“Oh yeah yeah, I got you now, everything’s sorted,” She laughed to herself, accidentally snorting and blushing for what seemed to be the hundredth time since Yoongi walked up to her wooden desk.
“Room 400,” She paused for a second, raising an eyebrow at Yoongi before slowly sliding him his room key. Yoongi glanced down at the register, his eyes flicking through the list of names. His eyes fixated on a certain one, one that made his heart drop. Park Jimin . The woman’s quizzical look remained even as Yoongi shuffled away in a panic, his heart beating loudly against his ribs.
People made ushered comments as he walked past, suddenly feeling like everyone’s eyes were locked on him.
“Dude,” Namjoon placed his hand on his shoulder, turning Yoongi around to face him, “Did she just give you the key for room 400?”
Yoongi was confused and worked up, not really know how to respond to Namjoon because his room number meant nothing to him in the moment. That name, it couldn’t possibly…
“Yeah,” He mumbled, holding up his key just to confirm it with himself. Namjoon’s eyes widened, nipping the keys out of Yoongi’s grasp.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of room 400,” The whispering from earlier continued, people going as far as to point at Yoongi, no one was exactly subtle about the fact that they were talking about him.
“No?” It came out like a question, prying Namjoon to explain just what exactly he was blabbering about. It all didn’t add up.
“Room 400 is the one big ass room in the whole school. Only pretentious rich people get that room. There’s been legends about how when there’s only one spoiled brat they share the room with one of us plebs but I didn’t think that actually happened! Let alone to you ,” Namjoon was obviously excited, the news clearly making his college experience more hopeful. Yoongi didn’t really care about space much, and rooming with a snob didn’t exactly sound overly appealing, either.
“That’s not what matters,” Yoongi brushed him off, ignoring the ‘amazing’ news and addressing his real issue, “I saw a Park Jimin on the register.”
Namjoon squinted at him momentarily, like his brain was trying to pinpoint why the name had any meaning to it, until his eyes fixated and he took in a breath, sighing. He ran his hands through his hair, looking fedup. He had dealt with this continuous issue long enough now, he wasn’t doing this process again.
“I think you’re forgetting that he is in Korea,” Namjoon pointed out, prodding Yoongi’s collarbone, “And you’re here. Besides I was talking to that Park Jimin earlier when you were analysing the water dispensers. That Park Jimin is a girl , but she is from Korea, that’s how she caught my attention. Guess we’re not the only ones, eh?”
Yoongi stilled then, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. Of course his immediate assumption was ridiculous, Jimin left three years ago, he would’ve told him if he was coming back, they made that promise to each other. He even spotted the girl moments after, black hair, fringe, squishable cheeks, she seemed eerily almost like the female version of him, which made Yoongi uneasy.
“Right,” He said, more so confirming it with himself rather than Namjoon, “You’re right.”
--
(High School, Sophomore Year)
Yoongi had noticed the boy multiple times now, he was sure the boy knew that he knew. He had watched him consistently through assembly, eyes always darting away when he caught them watching him.
Yoongi knew this boy was Jimin, his name only known to him because he was friends with the most loud and outgoing person in Freshman year and possibly the entire school, it was baffling to him how they even became friends.
He was also considered a genius, acing every test he had took so far and he would probably come out on top at the end of the year, but he wasn’t a nerd. Sure, he was a little quiet and shy but Yoongi knew damn well from lunch that he was as loud and energetic as his friends, which he supposed that’s what made them work. He’d also seen him at multiple parties, seeing his young, innocent face in such a place almost made him uncomfortable.
This whole ordeal had been going on for a few weeks now, where Yoongi would find the boy somewhere in the background wherever he went, like he just couldn’t escape his face. Whenever Yoongi spotted him, he was already staring right back at him, Yoongi would be lying if he said he wasn’t in the slightest bit weirded out, because he most definitely was.
Things only got weirder when his hyper smiley friend approached him at lunch, walking up to his friends table, who were usually considered intimidating, and squishing himself beside him.
“So,” He announced, placing his head in his hands and looking up at Yoongi through long lashes, “Are you single MinMin? Do you have your eyes on anyone?”
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, as did all of his friends. Yoongi would expect ‘MinMin’ possibly from a white person, but hearing the name coming from the mouth of a fellow Korean who understood formalities damn well, he was almost offended.
“Do I know you?” Yoongi asked incredulously, which only made the boy laugh. Of course Yoongi knew who Taehyung was, there wasn’t many people in this school who didn’t , especially not after the teacher dart board incident.
“You don’t have to to answer the question,” He shrugged, sipping on his carton of milk. Yoongi’s friends went silent, each listening into the conversation with intent. Yoongi knew this guy was fearless when it came to social situations, but he often wondered whether this guy was too fearless for his own good, he was going to get himself killed one day.
“Fine. I am single but not looking for otherwise. Why does this matter to you?” Taehyung smiled at that, picking up his tray and winking at him. The gesture sent a chill down his spine.
“Oh don’t worry,” He waved his hands, glancing at the table where his group of friends was sat, “It’s not me who it matters to.”
And with a swish of his hips, he was gone, leaving Yoongi silent with his lips pursed.
“What the fuck was that?” Yoongi’s friend called Ethan spoke up first, his eyeballs so wide they looked like they were about to pop out of his sockets. Yoongi didn’t even know how to respond because even he had no idea what the hell just happened. Yoongi couldn’t tell whether he was being flirted with or made fun of, Taehyung was such a weird kid.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Namjoon spoke up as he jabbed his fork into his spaghetti, twisting it around, “One of Tae’s friends has a crush on Yoongi, but was too shy to find out his relationship status to determine whether or not they had a chance. They probably just asked Taehyung to find out for them, or knowing Taehyung they probably just told him about their crush and he took matters into his own hands. Either way, someone actually likes Yoongi.”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” Only one part of Namjoon’s explanation took his attention, and of course it was the offensive part. Yoongi didn’t think he was that bad, his face was decent in his eyes and his body was too, but maybe he was wrong this entire time.
“Maybe if you didn’t walk into every class like you’re seriously considering hauling yourself out the window then maybe I’d think you were more approachable,” Namjoon said simply, sucking up pasta into his mouth, his eyes innocent.
Yoongi wondered if Jimin staring and Taehyung’s questioning had a connection, I mean, it would make sense.
But loads of girls in Freshman year had a crush on Jimin, he heard them whispering about him all the time. So why in God’s name would Jimin even think out everyone in this entire school he could’ve picked, why him?
--
(Present day)
“How long you gonna avoid meeting your roommate for?” Namjoon asked him, bemusement on his features. Yoongi just groaned. They went to the cafeteria for lunch, which unlike high school, everything had a price tag on it. Yoongi wasn’t exactly shitting out money, the inevitability of him living off pot noodles for the next three years seemed unavoidable. He even felt guilty for buying just a sandwich, as Namjoon say there with a whole meal in front of him and no regrets.
“He’s gonna be snobby,” Yoongi groaned, “He’s gonna look down on me like I’m trash.”
Namjoon looked Yoongi up and down, you could tell he was repressing and snicker. Instead, he raised his eyebrows at Yoongi’s outfit of choice, it didn’t help his case very much at all.
“I know what you’re thinking,” He cut Namjoon’s thoughts off, “ Don’t. ”
Yoongi couldn’t help but find his judgemental gaze very hypocritical of him, he didn’t exactly go out of his way to make a good impression either. His jeans were even more ripped than his, and then design displayed on his t-shirt was faded from the copious amounts of washing it suffered through. Not to mention the haircut that made Yoongi want to stop calling Namjoon his friend, the “ blue acorn ” look was one of his more regrettable choices in life.
Yoongi gave in then, knowing he couldn’t avoid his responsibilities forever. He wondered if he could switch rooms if he asked really nicely, maybe if both him and his roommate weren’t happy with each other's company. He knew this wouldn’t please Namjoon, seeing as he had expectations of “ throwing lit parties ” in his unconventionally large room. Yoongi told him that he didn’t expect some rich smart ass to agree with his ideas, which made the younger boy fall silent, with both disappointment and defeat.
Yoongi was slow about everything he did, purposely to drag out going to his room, whether it was insisting he needed to buy tissue paper at the nearest convenience store, or parking in the space furthest from the dorms, or even going as far as deeming it necessary to bring in each box one by one, the idea multitasking clearly not in Yoongi’s head.
But Yoongi couldn’t put it off anymore, no matter how hard he tried. He had completely run dry of his excuses, and no matter how much he avoided it, the confrontation had to happen no matter what. It only took him ten minutes sitting outside of the dorm building on the curb, surrounding by his own belongings, to realise that.
The dorms were inconveniently in a separate building to the actual school, so it would take him ten minutes to walk their everyday. Apparently it went against Namjoon’s “morals” to drive his car when they were only minutes away from the school, so Yoongi had no way out of getting up an extra ten minutes everyday. He cursed Namjoon’s name and the torture he was going to put him through, he even considered not even asking his roommate for “ lit parties ” even when his best friend’s birthday was approaching, he had betrayed Yoongi in a way he couldn’t forgive.
Yoongi brought one of his many boxes with him as he finally gave in, locating the elevator. As expected, the building wasn’t much. The entrance was just a blank room with automatic doors, the walls were grey and sad, very much do resembling how Yoongi was feeling. The only thing present was the metallic elevator in the corner of the room, the small contraption ready to bring Yoongi to his doom.
He sighed, regretting bringing all his stuff into the hallway at once, knowing that someone could very well steal his things as he brought each box up one by one. He wasn’t that concerned, it’s not as if grey underwear that was once white was irreplaceable, he just didn’t want to spend that money.
There was also a vending machine with things like sandwiches, water and crisps, after checking the rather cheap prices Yoongi decided that this could be his very accessible and handy food source. Yoongi’s parents agreed to send him small amounts of money to make sure he didn’t die, but they weren’t exactly well off, so he needed to learn how to ration what he had.
“I’m going to get diabetes,” Yoongi groaned to himself, fishing out change from his pocket for a bottle of coke, “I’m going to not only be a stressed hormonal adult, but a stressed hormonal adult with diabetes.”
He watched as the bottle dropped, getting caught in one of the wires and sitting there, pressed against the glass almost mockingly. He whined loudly, knowing that no one was around to hear him. He kicked the machine repeatedly, hoping that vibrations would get the bottle to fall, his throat suddenly feeling like the Sahara Desert. But it didn’t, the cold bottle making the glass condensate, just show Yoongi the cool thirst quenching refreshment he was missing out on.
“Hey,” A voice called from behind, nearly making him drop his box, a sound resembling a shrieking cat escaping from his throat.
“That’s not how you do it,” Yoongi looked at the stranger for the first time, too embarrassed by his screeching to take note of him before. He was taller than Yoongi, and broader, which made him immediately intimidating. He was more tanned than him also, having a nice golden skin that looked well against his white shirt. His eyes were bright and kind, his boxy smile making his original threatening vibe disappear. Yoongi was caught off guard, because he definitely knew this person, that smile was unique, he had to have seen it before.
“Taehyung?!” Yoongi nearly choked on his words, the stranger Yoongi believed to be Taehyung jumped a little, squinting at Yoongi like he was a small fly.
“MinMin? Did you die your hair!? You never struck me as the type,” Yoongi acknowledged the mint mop on his head for the first time in a while, forgetting that it was something that would generally grab someone's attention. It was so odd , Taehyung had changed so much. His smile was the same, but everything else was different. Taehyung seemed to also die his hair, but it was a lot more subtle, a nice ashy blonde colour that was messily styled, it suited him.
“I’m just full of surprises,” Yoongi said flatly, his High School life never failing to haunt him. Taehyung suddenly remembered the task at hand, standing beside the machine, hitting the side of it violently with his fist. Sure enough the bottle fell into the little collection compartment, leaving Yoongi with his mouth agape.
“Happened to me earlier,” Taehyung explained, still smiling, “Looked like you needed help.”
Yoongi suddenly remembered how him and Taehyung knew each other, and where their relationship should stand. He awkwardly shifted in his space, like the words left unsaid between the two should be clear, but Taehyung took at least an entire minute before he realised the change in atmosphere. He put his hands in his pockets, letting out a heavy breath before being the first person to address their situation.
“I have nothing against you, Yoongi, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Taehyung explained, offering him a warm smile. This time it wasn’t genuine, just polite, you could tell by the look in his eyes, “You never did anything wrong, none of it was in your control. Relationships end and I’m not going to be bitter. Besides, it was a mutual decision between you two, an understandable one at that.”
That wasn't entirely true, as it most definitely was not mutual or intended, but he didn't have the energy to correct him. Yoongi let out the tension he had been feeling with a relieved sigh, running his free hand through his hair on instinct, “I-uh thank you, I appreciate that.”
“I better get going- my new roommate is very confused small child who needs all the help he can get, so if you don’t mind,” Taehyung explained, backing up slightly, Yoongi just nodded, feeling his brain go to mush. He didn’t really like being reminded of his past, especially high school. But now Taehyung was at his college where he wanted to forget all of that and move on, but his was just a human embodiment of a friendly reminder he never asked for.
He hadn’t seen Taehyung in over a year, and boy did that year do him well. He mostly thrived off his personality to get him through high school, but he can already seeing people throwing themselves at him now just by looking at him. He wasn’t sure what he did to get to where he was, but it worked.
But none of that mattered now, Yoongi had every intention of avoiding Kim Taehyung as much as he possibly could, seeing him would just make him think and he didn't want that. He already had so many resurfacing questions going on his head from a brief conversation, he didn’t want to make things worse for himself, he’d done that enough already.
It was 390 minutes since Yoongi woke up that morning.
Yoongi stepped into the elevator, pressing the button to the top floor. He had his box tucked to his chest, he tapped his feet against the plastic lino. He was in there for longer than he expected, but his apparently “ giant snob room” was on the top floor, secluded from everyone else. Yoongi felt so out of place as the doors slid open, revealing a long hallway with just one door.
One door for one room, that hardly seemed fair, considering the rest of the building and rooms tightly packed together, people desperate for more space. Yoongi knew he would be one of them if he didn’t get the luck of the draw, but he did, so he supposed he should be thankful for that much.
Yoongi thought about his opening sentence to his new roommate too much, ending up hovering outside the door for five minutes. He didn’t know why he was so suddenly self conscious just because the dude’s parents had a lot of money to spend. It wasn’t like him to conform to society's norms like that, he knew himself that he was no less than the guy inside that room, no matter how many dollars he has over his head.
With that, Yoongi pushed open the door deciding to “ just fucking wing it ” because he knew he’d never get in the room otherwise.
Yoongi didn’t realise no matter how long he stood outside that door, analysing and preparing his words, no amount of preparation could of possibly prepared him for this . He nearly dropped his box in shock, stepping back into the hallway.
The boy was sitting on his own bed, staring up at Yoongi with what was at first, happy eyes, but they quickly changed to fear. Yoongi was speechless, standing there stiffly like his feet were glued to the floor.
It was all too familiar, the squishy cheeks, the happy eyes that disappeared when he smiled, the plump lips and the cute button nose, it was all too much. But this was not the boy he used to know, he had no doubt about that.
The boy he used to know was on a desperate track to accept himself and feel confident. He dreamed about dyeing his hair to make a statement and getting multiple piercings the moment he left the doors of high school. He even considered tattoos, so long as they meant something dear to him. He had promised Yoongi a spot on his skin, a whole space for him to permanently be apart of him. He wore contacts because they made him feel cuter, everything he did was for himself, for his own personal gain on the road to no more insecurities. The boy wore the clothes his mother wanted him to on the way to school but would change in the bathroom into the clothes he actually liked that he had stuffed hurriedly in his bag that morning. He wore eyeliner and didn’t give a fuck about who made fun of him for it, even wearing a crop top the next day and giving the middle finger to the same people, this boy was not him.
This boy had jet black neat hair, styled perfectly on his head. This boy was bare faced and had a pair of circular glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. This boy had a granny looking cardigan placed over his white shirt with dad like khaki pants. Yoongi didn’t think it could get worse, not until he spotted the matching white socks topped off with leather sandals, if he felt like he was going to hurl before, he definitely was now.
He wasn’t angry because they made the boy less beautiful, no, he was perfect no matter what he wore, this just wasn’t him . Yoongi had enough conversations with the boy to know that how he dressed and presented himself made him happy and more comfortable in his own skin, that’s what irked him. Yoongi remembered cradling him in late nights as he cried into his chest about how he could never be who he wanted to be with his mother around, and Yoongi managed to convince him otherwise, but it seemed his advice just went down the drain. Yoongi was disappointed, shocked and upset. He wanted run right out the room again and never come back, but he couldn't let the situation slide.
- He returned from Korea without telling Yoongi
- He threw a year of character development down the drain.
- He made Yoongi believe he never cared about him.
- He never contacted him like he promised he would.
- He let his mother take over his happiness.
Yoongi didn’t even know where to start, he knew he had only been silent for a few minutes but it felt like hours. He looked up at him, not breaking eye contact since he entered the room. He shifted awkwardly on his bed, fiddling with the hem of his ugly jumper. Yoongi wanted to burn it, it belonged on a crippled old woman, not a hot guy about to start his college life. And Yoongi thought people were gonna judge how he dressed, he didn’t have to worry anymore because that cardigan had no competition.
Even his belongings made him cringe. A picture of him and some clean-cut Asian girl on his bedside drawer. He clothes were nowhere to be seen, presumably folded up neatly in his wardrobe. He had a few things on the wall, like pictures of him and his family, friends, but one caught his attention in particular, one on the very corner that it was almost out of sight. Yoongi spotted himself first, his regrettable high school haircut and gummy smile on display, making him cringe. The boy was by his side, pressed against his arm as he did the peace sign. The only thing that seemed the same between the past boy and the present boy was his hair, everything else just seemed so wrong .
The fact that he still had the photo, and on his wall, made Yoongi’s heart clench and his stomach formed knots. He didn’t think he cared anymore, but maybe he was wrong. Yoongi hoped he had some genuine explanation for all this, otherwise he wasn’t sure if he could be in his presence anymore.
When there was nothing left to think about, Yoongi finally spoke, it wasn’t much, but it was enough.
“Jimin?”
It had been 400 minutes since Yoongi woke up that morning.