The universe had a twisted sense of humor.
There were sixteen people in Jimin’s Music Theory class. Sixteen. Fourteen of those people were, like Jimin, sophomores. It was an intro class, that met a necessary requirement for anyone majoring in the arts. Jung Hoseok was one of the sixteen that was not a sophomore, being one year older than Jimin. Like Jimin, he was majoring in dance.
Jimin liked Hoseok. Both being dance majors, they were in a lot of the same classes, in addition to being at the dance studio five days out of the week. On the first day of Music Theory, Hoseok had seen Jimin walk in the door, juggling a dance bag and a backpack, and bounded over to him to help, exclaiming how excited he was that he had not one, but two pals in the same class.
“Sit here, Jimin, right in front of me,” Hoseok had said, dumping Jimin’s back pack on a desk a few rows forward from the back. Hoseok sat down in the seat behind him and Jimin couldn’t help but grin. Hoseok’s energy was contagious.
“Who do else do you know?” Jimin said, sliding into his seat and shifting around so he could look at Hoseok.
Hoseok cheerfully rapped on the desk immediately to his left, and that was the first time Jimin laid eyes on Min Yoongi.
The first clear thought that flitted through Jimin’s head was beautiful. Min Yoongi was beautiful, with skin white as sugar, eyes dark glinting crescents, lips pink and bowed, and the cutest button nose Jimin had ever seen. He was wearing a black hoodie, the hood rucked up against the back of his bleach blonde hair, sleeves of the sweater covering everything except his fingertips.
The second thought was crap, he hates me.
Because even after Hoseok’s obnoxious tapping, his exclamation of “Min Yoongi, meet Park Jimin, Park Jimin, meet Min Yoongi!” Yoongi barely spared Jimin a passing glance, eyes flicking to him for half a beat before going back to staring at—well, Jimin wasn’t sure. Staring ahead of him at nothing, apparently, was more interesting then saying hello to Jimin.
Still, Jimin was always one to make an effort, and, even with his heart beating in his throat, he smiled and said, “Nice to meet you.”
Yoongi did not say anything back, still staring towards the front of the classroom. Jimin looked at Hoseok with wide eyes. Was it possible he had done something wrong in the 60 seconds he’d been there?
But Hoseok looked undeterred. “Don’t mind Yoongi-hyung here, he’s all bent out of shape that he’s stuck taking this course again. He failed freshman year, missed too many classes—” At that, Yoongi looked at Hoseok, his gaze so withering that Jimin had half a mind to shush Hoseok, but the other boy plowed on, uncaring. “Yoongi-hyung had a wild freshman year, was hungover way too many mornings, thought this class was too good for him but couldn’t get out of waiving the requirement, could you hyung?” Hoseok teased, poking Yoongi in the arm. Jimin’s mouth parted, in awe of Hoseok’s bravery. With the way Yoongi was glaring at him, Jimin wouldn’t have touched him with a ten-foot pole.
Okay, he might have, Yoongi was really pretty but jeez did the guy have a scary glare on him.
“Oh, ah,” Jimin said when the silence dragged on a little longer than was comfortable, and then immediately regretted opening his mouth when Yoongi’s glare turned on him. He wanted to suck the words back into his mouth, but Yoongi was looking at him, waiting, and Jimin struggled to find something neutral to say. “Ah, um—so, are you in Hoseok’s year, Yoongi-ssi?”
Hoseok was grinned. “You can call him hyung, Jimin-ah, don’t be shy! Isn’t he the cutest, Yoongi?”
Jimin was definitely blushing now, wishing the ground would swallow him and his desk up whole. “I—uh—I don’t—”
“I’m a senior,” Yoongi said, and Jimin really thought the ground had disappeared from under him, because hearing the deep, low rasp that was Yoongi’s voice had his stomach swooping in a way that did not feel normal.
And that was that. Jimin was in official crush mode.
Yoongi did not speak again after that. In fact, Jimin did not hear him speak again for another three weeks, despite having the class with him and Hoseok three times a week, and sitting barely two feet away at that. Jimin took any excuse to turn around and speak to Hoseok, just so he could sneak peeks at Yoongi sitting next to him. Usually, Yoongi was either looking ahead at the front of the classroom, or down at his phone. A quarter of the time, the senior was sleeping, chin in his hand, hoodie pulled low over his eyes, or, subtlety be damned, head face down in his arms. But he did not speak.
So when Hoseok invited Jimin to come get coffee after class with him and Yoongi about four weeks into the semester, Jimin was quick to say yes. Embarrassingly quick, he thought, shooting Yoongi a quick glance and flushing pink when he saw that Yoongi was actually looking at him.
“Is that okay?” he said meekly.
Hoseok guffawed, reaching forward and ruffling Jimin’s orange hair. “Jiminie, I just invited you. Of course it is. Don’t mind Yoongi. He’s just along for the caffeine.”
Yoongi looked back to the front of the classroom, and Jimin hated himself for feeling a little disappointed.
But, if there was ever a chance to get to know Yoongi a little more, this was it, and Jimin, heart beating madly in his chest, was determined to make the most of it. When class ended, he turned and stood so fast that his foot caught on the leg of his desk chair. He would have fallen flat on his face had he not caught himself with a loud bang on the flat of Yoongi’s desk. Yoongi’s desk, where Yoongi was still sitting, having just straightened at the professor’s dismissal and whose face was currently inches from Jimin’s.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, pink lips set into an unimpressed flat line, just starting to part to no doubt say something scathing, but Jimin cut him off.
“I am so sorry, oh my God, so sorry,” he said, untangling his foot from the chair leg and shoving himself up, nearly toppling over again. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” He was pretty confident he could fry an egg on his cheeks.
Yoongi looked up at him, mouth open, then glanced at Hoseok. “This kid dances?” he said.
Jimin wanted to die.
But Hoseok, ever wonderful, stood up and pulled Jimin into a bone crushing side hug, shaking his head at Yoongi. “You should see him, Yoongi. He’s a cute little bun off stage, but the second the music starts, think—think sex.”
Okay, maybe wonderful wasn’t the right word.
“Hoseok,” Jimin said, looking anywhere but at Yoongi. “Please.”
“And like, not the grody public bathroom or dorm room hookups from your freshman year, Yoongi—” Jimin did look at Yoongi then, couldn’t help it, had to see his face, shouldn’t have been surprised at the withering look Yoongi was shooting Hoseok as he slowly stood. “Think, sex in a five-star hotel, with candles and chocolate covered strawberries and lots and lots of hip gyrating.”
Jimin covered his face with his hands. “Hoseok,” he mumbled. “You’re the worst.”
Yoongi tsked at them. “If you two are done, I’d like some coffee before next century. Think you can get there without tripping, kid?”
Jimin wanted to fucking die.
“All right, all right let’s go,” Hoseok said, gesturing for Jimin to follow him and Yoongi. Hoseok and Jimin chatted easily during the short walk to the coffee shop. Yoongi was quiet as usual, a few steps ahead of them. It was a nice change from the classroom for Jimin, allowing him to admire inconspicuously, without having to turn 180 degrees.
Yoongi reached the door to the coffee shop first. He pulled at the handle and leaned against the glass to hold it open. Hoseok breezed past him, Jimin hurrying after him, mumbling “thanks” to Yoongi as he passed. The older boy just pushed himself off the door with his foot and followed Jimin inside.
Hoseok and Jimin got their orders first, moseying over to a table by the front window. Jimin would not have been surprised if Yoongi ordered his drink to go, but he didn’t do that. As Jimin settled in his seat next to Hoseok, Yoongi walked over to them, steaming white mug in his hands. He placed it on the wooden table with a clunk, leaning over to sniff the caramel and pumpkin scent wafting up from both Hoseok and Jimin’s respectively spiced drinks before sitting across from Jimin with a huff of “seriously?”
Hoseok made a show of lifting the cup to his lips and drinking deeply. “Ahh. So good.”
Yoongi snorted. “I don’t know how you drink that shit.”
Jimin realized his mouth was slightly open, never having heard Yoongi speak so much in one sitting. God, his voice was nice. Just a little gravelly, almost a mumble, the low drawl of it making Jimin feel warm inside. He snapped his mouth shut, bringing his own drink to his lips and taking a sip.
He yelped when the scalding liquid touched his tongue. Yoongi’s dry gaze settled on him.
“It’s hot,” he supplied weakly, blowing on the drink and shooting Hoseok a pout. “How’d you drink it so easily?”
Hoseok grinned, reaching out and pinching Jimin’s cheeks. “Jiminie, you’re just a softie.”
Jimin resisted the urge to reply he was not, thinking it wouldn’t do much to convince him, instead putting down his mug with a gentle clunk and rolling his eyes up to the ceiling.
At that moment, a cheerful, tinkling voice shouted “Jimin!” from across the shop. Jimin blinked, looking around just in time before he was rammed from the side in a rough hug from Jeon Jungkook. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, always happy to see one of his best friends, grateful it was not his roommate, solely for the fact that Taehyung could see right through him and would not be subtle about Jimin’s—well, whatever it was he was feeling for Yoongi.
“Kookie,” Jimin exclaimed. He pulled back, entwining his fingers with Jungkook’s and squeezing. “What’s up?”
Jungkook’s smiled at him, all big eyes and dark brown, fluffy hair. “I was just going to meet Taehyung, actually,” he said, glancing behind Jimin at the two upperclassmen with wide eyes. “You?”
“Oh,” Jimin said, excitedly waving Jungkook’s hand. “Jungkook, this is Hoseok-hyung, he’s co-captain of the dance team. Hyung, this is Jungkook. He’s a freshman, and he dance—”
“Jeon Jungkook! I’ve seen your audition tapes for the dance studio,” he crowed, slamming his hand down on the table. “You’re good. When are you officially joining? I thought you got in.”
Jungkook look pleased. “Next semester. Taking care of all my basic classes and requirements first.”
Jimin glanced at Yoongi, and despite the fact that the older boy looked more annoyed by the ruckus than by the fact that he hadn’t been introduced yet, Jimin piped up. “And ah, Jungkook, this is Yoongi-ssi.”
Yoongi’s eyes slid from the window to Jungkook, nodding his head shortly in a greeting.
Well, it was more than Jimin had gotten.
Jungkook nodded back. “Are you a dance major too?” he asked.
Hoseok snickered. Yoongi ignored him. “Music production,” he said.
“Ah.” Jungkook’s eyes flicked around the table. “Well, I gotta go, but I’ll see you later, yeah?”
“Yeah, definitely. Bye Kookie,” Jimin said, waving at the younger boy as he left.
Hoseok leaned forward after the shop’s door shut behind him. “Jimin-ah~ he’s cute. Are you guys dating?”
Jimin, who had taken another chance at his latte, promptly choked, spraying a mouthful right in Yoongi’s direction.
“Fuck,” Jimin said before he could help himself as Hoseok howled in laughter beside him. “Yoongi-ssi, I am—oh my God, let me buy you another coffee—I’m so sorry—”
The look on Yoongi’s face made Jimin want to crawl under the table and make camp there. Resisting the urge, he jumped up instead, grabbing napkins from the holder and mopping up the mess around Yoongi’s coffee cup, all the while babbling apologies repeatedly.
“It’s fine,” Yoongi cut him off, but it definitely didn’t sound fine, and it definitely didn’t look fine as Yoongi reached up to wipe some spray spittle off his cheek.
“No—no it’s not, no really—I can—I’m gonna buy you another coffee—did you—you had it black, right?”
“Jimin,” Hoseok finally managed to gasp, grabbing Jimin’s elbow and stopping him before he could start towards the counter. “Sit down. It’s okay. A little bit of your saliva isn’t going to kill Yoongi.”
“The pumpkin spice, might,” Yoongi said, and Jimin was about to lurch back towards the counter again, even if he had to drag Hoseok with him, but then he caught sight of Yoongi’s face—and he was smiling.
Okay, on anyone else, it wouldn’t have been a smile. But it was Yoongi, whose perpetual poker face expression Jimin already had down to an embarrassing T, and the minuscule curve of his lips was not a part of it.
Jimin exhaled shakily. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi said, and the smile was gone, but Jimin was sure he hadn’t imagined it. “Relax. You’re making me tense.”
Jimin didn’t know how he was supposed to do that, especially not when Yoongi lifted the mug to his mouth and took a careless sip, as if Jimin hadn’t just spit all over it.
Jimin bit his lip, resisting the urge to ask if it was okay. Yoongi was looking out the window again.
“So, you are dating Jungkook.”
“What?” Jimin exclaimed, rounding on Hoseok. “No, Hoseok-hyung, we’re just friends.”
“Ah, sorry, I thought you were, ah—well, I was with you at the club a few weeks ago…”
Jimin never thought he’d want to strangle the other dancer but the urge was strong now.
“Oh my God,” Jimin groaned, leaning forward and clutching his mug. “That was—we were just—” Jimin could feel Yoongi turn away from the window to look at him, thought about fibbing for a second then gave himself a hard mental shake. There was no reason to lie. “We aren’t dating. We were just drunk.” Jimin took a small, tentative sip of his drink. “I might like kissing people when I drink,” he mumbled.
Hoseok grinned. “Ah, you and Yoongi-hyung might have that in common,” he teased.
Jimin did look at Yoongi then, hoping he wasn’t blushing, but he felt warm thinking about Yoongi kissing people, wondering who had had kissed—was it a boy or girl? Or both? Did he still do that? Would he kiss Jim—
Jimin took a large gulp as Yoongi dragged his gaze over to Hoseok. “When I was eighteen, Hoseok.”
“Yeah, yeah, that wasn’t that long ago. Besides, I was at Namjoon’s party, what, a month ago?” Hoseok said, tapping his chin in an exaggerated manner. “What was his name? Yo—”
“Keep talking,” Yoongi said, and the sharp inflection in his tone made it very clear he meant the opposite. Jimin hid behind his mug, taking another sip, brain going a mile a minute. Hoseok rolled his eyes at Yoongi but did change the subject with ease, turning to Jimin and asking him how he was handling the new choreography from a couple nights ago.
Yoongi left not long after that with barely a word of goodbye. Jimin was tempted to ask Hoseok about him, but that would give himself away and wasn’t keen on fending off the teasing that would be sure to follow.
He thought that even if their coffee trip had been less than successful, it would make it easier to talk to Yoongi, but that quickly proved not to be the case. It was the same as ever. Yoongi barely looked in his direction, spoke in half grunts and two-word sentences, and usually to Hoseok, and slept the rest of the time. Jimin did trip over his shoelace once as he was going to sit down, and Yoongi asked him how he had managed to not break his ankle before now. Jimin spent the rest of the class replaying the raspy mumble that was Yoongi’s voice in lieu of listening to their professor.
It wasn't for lack of trying on Jimin's part, though. He tried. When he spoke to Hoseok, he looked at Yoongi, trying to pull him into the conversation, but it was like talking to a rock. A beautiful, sleepy, grumpy rock.
Now and then, Yoongi would glance at him, a quick flicker of the eyes, and on rare occasions, a grunt or word acknowledging that he had heard what Jimin said. Jimin was close to telling himself, enough was enough, he had to stop liking him because it was basically hopeless. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do that—how to stop getting butterflies in his stomach when he and Yoongi made eye contact, how to stop his blood from feeling warm when he heard Yoongi speak, how to stop thinking Yoongi in all his quiet moodiness was still the sexiest thing Jimin had ever seen.
One day, as he was leaving class, he felt warm fingers touch his wrist. When he turned and found his body less than half a foot away from Yoongi, an embarrassing flush of excitement surged through his body.
Yoongi held out his other hand, a tangle of blue headphones resting in his palm. “Think these fell out of your pocket.”
“Oh—oh yeah,” Jimin said, the tips of his fingers tingling where they touched Yoongi’s palm to take them back. He had barely finished saying thank you before Yoongi was walking past, already out the door.
Later that night in shower, Jimin found himself hunched over, leaning against the tiled wall as he pumped himself to completion, thinking of Yoongi’s deep voice, his warm palm, coming with a broken whisper of Yoongi’s name on his lips.
He was definitely screwed.
A little over halfway into the semester, their professor announced their final exam would be composing a complete musical piece, of whatever genre they desired—to be completed in pairs. Jimin felt a small bubble of excitement at the prospect. It would cool to put together a song—maybe even something he could dance to.
“I’ve already paired you up,” the professor said, waving a sheet of paper around and making a show of pinning it to the bulletin board at the back of the classroom. “It might seem like you have a lot of time, but a couple months goes by quickly. It would be good to get a head start on this, as it is worth 75% of your grade. Please take note of who your partner is before you leave class today.”
He heard Hoseok shift behind him, and turned a little so his ear was facing Hoseok as he leaned forward to whisper, “I hope I got Lisa.”
The angle Jimin’s head was tilted at gave him a perfect view of Yoongi, who was resting his chin in his hand, staring in a bored way at the professor. He swallowed. Wondered how Yoongi would fair in a collaborative project when he barely spoke.
Well, that would be his partner’s problem. Personally, Jimin wasn’t worried. He could get along with just about anyone.
His stomach flipped when Yoongi’s gaze flicked to his and he quickly turned around without answering Hoseok.
There was a mad rush to the bulletin board when the professor dismissed them, Jimin managing to be at front of it, being closer to the back of the classroom as he was. His eyes scanned over the paper, finding his halfway down the sheet. He shifted his gaze to the name next to his. Felt something deep inside him swoop, tongue heavy in his mouth.
Park Jimin...............................Min Yoongi
The universe really did have a very twisted sense of humor.
Jimin whirled around, ducking away from the bulletin to allow other students the chance to look, the majority of them exclaiming in excitement. Not that anyone had reason to be disappointed. The class was small, and everyone got along with each other.
There was just one exception, and he was currently sleeping at his desk with his chin in his hand.
Jimin looked behind him. Hoseok was usually the one to precariously poke Yoongi awake when he was asleep at the end of class, bearing the brunt of Yoongi’s anger, usually in the form of an expletive or glare that could wither daisies. Hoseok, however, was currently preoccupied with a small blonde girl right by the classroom’s exit. Lisa, the cute exchange student from Thailand. He caught Jimin’s eye for a second and beamed. The pair of them walked out of the classroom together.
Jimin really couldn’t believe his luck.
The classroom was nearly empty now. Taking a deep breath, Jimin walked over to Yoongi’s desk. He was still sleeping.
Jimin took a second to look at him, since no one else was really around to judge. His lips were slightly parted, his dark eyelashes twitching against the tops of his pale cheeks. His bangs were in a haphazard mess across his forehead, ragged and pale.
Jimin swallowed and reached forward, pushing two fingers against the older boy’s shoulder as gently as was humanly possible.
Yoongi didn’t move.
Jimin groaned. He tried again, with the same result.
“Yoongi-ssi,” he whispered. He jostled him again. “Yoongi-ssi. Class is over.”
The classroom was nearly empty now. He didn’t understand how someone could be sleeping so deeply in such an uncomfortable position. Did he sleep enough at night?
“Yoongi-ssi!” Jimin said. He used his entire hand now, pressing it down on Yoongi’s shoulder and shifting it back and forth.
Yoongi’s eyes flew open, his chin nearly cracking against the desk as he jolted awake. “What the fuck,” he grunted, voice raspy with sleep as he looked around, focusing on the only person left in the classroom. Which was Jimin.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Yoongi said, narrowing his eyes.
Jimin’s heart was beating fast but he was used to that by now with Yoongi. “Class is over,” he tried again.
Yoongi stared at him for a few moments. “Okay,” he said, and bent down to grab his book bag, hiking it over his shoulder as he stood.
Jimin clutched the straps of his own. “You and I are partners.”
Yoongi raised his eyebrows at him.
“For the final project,” Jimin added quickly. “Er, the project where we have to compose a song? Together?”
Yoongi’s gaze flicked over to the bulletin. “Okay,” he said again.
Jimin was beginning to feel frustrated. “Okay,” he echoed, falling into step with Yoongi as he made his way to the exit. “So, do you want to—um, I don’t know, exchange numbers or something?”
Yoongi didn’t even look at him. “What for?”
Jimin let out a little huff of air, a ghost of it puffing in front of his face as they left the building and stepped outdoors. “Well we’ll have to coordinate and work together on it, so shouldn’t—”
“Look, Jimin, don’t worry about it, yeah? I have to do stuff like this every other week for my other classes. I got it.”
Jimin didn’t say anything for a second, wrapping his head around the thought that he was pretty sure this was the first time Yoongi had said his name and it sounded really nice.
Then he registered what he had said and before he could think about, grabbed Yoongi’s elbow and stopped him mid stride.
Yoongi looked momentarily stunned, whether by the fact that Jimin was able to stop him or that he had touched him in the first place. He looked down at Jimin’s small hand, barely able to wrap fully around his arm, then up at Jimin.
Jimin quickly let go. “I’m sorry Yoongi-ssi. I know you probably don’t want to waste your time working on something brand new with me, and we would probably get a better grade if I just let you hand in something you wrote, but this is important to me.” He took a breath, realizing dimly that this was the longest he had ever spoken to Yoongi and he had not face planted or spit up in his face. Yoongi, to his slight surprise, had not tried to keep walking. “I’m not an expert in writing music, not even close, and I know dance is my focus but I took this course specifically to learn something. I can’t let you hand in something with both our names on it when I didn’t learn anything or even contribute. It’s, uh, just not me. And, if you don’t have time or want to work with me, that’s, fine, I’ll do my part alone and I can email you and, I don’t know, we’ll figure it out somehow, but I’m going to do my part.” He licked his lips, realizing he had given a very lame, slightly pretentious speech, but it was out, and it was honest, and even though Yoongi’s stare was making him feel very hot and tingly, he stood his ground.
Yoongi finally spoke. “Hyung.”
Jimin flushed. “What?”
Yoongi let out a small breath of air that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “You can call me hyung.” He reached into the pocket of his sweater and pulled out his phone. “What’s your number?”
Jimin opened and closed his mouth uselessly for a few seconds. Was this really happening?
Yoongi clicked his tongue against his teeth. “C’mon, now you’re speechless? What’s your number?”
Jimin shook his head and quickly recited the numbers to Yoongi, watching as his fingers typed it out in a quick, fluid motion. Yoongi pressed on the screen a few more times before tucking his phone back into his pocket and turning around to continue walking.
“W-wait!” Jimin said hurrying after him.
Yoongi cast him a side long glance. “What? You wanna start right now?”
Jimin wasn’t even sure what himself. “You got my number?”
“Didn’t stutter, did you?” Yoongi said, and Jimin glowered for a minute.
“I’m serious, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin said, feeling warm when he said hyung.
“So am I,” Yoongi said, turning right and heading towards the nearest parking lot. He stopped at the motorcycle parking, swinging his leg over a matte black Suzuki.
Jimin forgot everything they had been talking about up till that moment. “You drive a motorcycle?” he said, his voice cracking mortifyingly at the end.
Yoongi bumped back the kickstand with the heel of his boot. “What’s it look like?”
Jimin thought it might be more appropriate to kick himself. In the face. “Where’s your helmet?”
Yoongi did laugh then, with teeth and gums and everything. Lots of gums actually. Jimin was pretty sure it was the first time he was seeing his teeth. It was the cutest, prettiest thing Jimin had ever seen in his life.
He might be exaggerating, but was finding it hard to think straight with a laughing Min Yoongi sitting on a motorcycle two feet in front of him.
“I’ll text you, Jimin,” Yoongi said, and he smiled at him, still with the teeth and the gums, and then the motorcycle’s engine came to life with a deep purr.
Jimin stood rooted to the spot for a good two minutes after Yoongi had already sped out of the parking lot.