P L E A S E D O N O T R E P O S T M Y S T O R I E S E L S E W H E R E W I T H O U T M Y P E R M I S S I O N !!
You planning on coming out soon
Jimin's woken up by the ungodly combo of the merciless sunshine streaming through the window and the incessant ringing of his phone. He reaches to turn off his alarm and it takes him a few disoriented moments to realize through the haze of his headache that it's not actually the alarm but a call. The shrill tone of his ringtone is drilling an intergalactic wormhole through his poor, dehydrated brain, one plink at a time. How is it possible that his mouth feels as dry as the fucking Namib desert, but there's still a gross bit of drool on his chin? It takes all of his currently available brain power and focus just to answer the phone. None left to form actual words.
"Ngggh?" he groans into the mic.
"Chim? Are you still sleeping?"
Shit, it's Hobi. He was supposed to pick Jimin up for work. What time is it anyway? He tries to clear his throat as quietly as possible.
"Hm? No, no. I'm awake."
"Park Jimin, quit bullshitting me." He can almost hear Hobi side-eyeing him.
"I've been messaging you for the past ten minutes. We're gonna be late if you don't get your cute behind out of bed. Like, NOW."
"Shit. Okay, give me a minute to brush my teeth."
His head is pounding and he can feel just the tiniest bit of puke pondering whether to make its way up his throat, but he gulps some water and chokes it down. He doesn't have time for this right now. He brushes his teeth and throws on a loose tank and tiny swim shorts and books it out to Hobi's car.
"Ouch," Hobi winces as he opens the passenger side door. "You look like roadkill. Had a good night?"
"Meh, average. Namjoon spilled a drink all over himself and spent half the night having a drunk existential crisis. He kept going on and on about how he stared right into the abyss last Wednesday afternoon."
"So, the usual," Hobi chuckles.
"Yup. He still managed to get phone numbers from at least three different people, though. I think one girl got down on her knees and proposed to him, but it's a blur and it was kinda loud. She was probably just offering to blow him, seeing how they kinda disappeared after that," Jimin shakes his head a little and winces immediately at the movement. His brain feels like it's detached and rattling around his skull.
"How bout you? Any action?" Hobi wiggles his eyebrows in a comically suggestive gesture.
"Eh..." Jimin was drunk last night but not so drunk he doesn't remember hooking up with his lying, cheating ex. Apparently, his dignity and decision-making skills plummet in reverse proportion to the number of tequila shots he downs.
"Jackson was there," he says trying to gauge Hobi's reaction without looking directly at him. Nothing but silence from Hoseok's side of the car.
"I kinda blew him in the restroom," he adds. Embarrassment floods his cheeks, but he doesn't keep things from Hobi. Never has.
"Mhm," his best friend hums in a suspiciously non-committal manner.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Hey man," Hoseok lifts both hands off the wheel defensively "I didn't say anything."
"Hobi, I can practically hear you thinking judgey thoughts in my general direction." Jimin closes his eyes on a long exhale and lets his head flop back against the headrest. "But yeah, I know. It was a stupid thing to do. It won't happen again."
"I mean... I hate to be the one to point this out, but you kinda said that the last two times," Hobi says not unkindly. "You know I'd be the last person to judge you, Chim. I just don't want to see that douche canoe hurt you again."
Jimin has a flashback from last night, how Jackson had a random girl draped all over him not even twenty minutes after he arrived at the bar, how it stung when Jimin saw them making out, Jackson laidback, like it was nothing that she was tucked between his legs as he sat at the bar, his hands cupping her ass almost lazily.
Jimin just shrugged it off when Namjoon gave him a worried look, and turned right around to slam back another shot. Knowing himself, he should have asked Namjoon to go some place else. He'd always been a needy and forgiving and sappy drunk. So he ended the night on his knees, barely aware of the familiar taste of Jackson's dick through the drunken haze and the lump in his throat. The bastard didn't even return the favor, but he doesn't tell Hoseok that. The whole thing is humiliating enough without going into details.
"This time I'm serious. I'm done. No more," he says, quiet but determined, then adds, in an even softer voice, "He makes me feel like garbage, Seokie. And I'm so tired of feeling that way."
Hoseok shoots him a worried look. "Hey, you know that's not true, right?"
"I know," Jimin exhales, embarrassed and not at all sure that he does know.
By the time they reach the hotel, Jimin is sweating out last night's alcohol through every pore on his body. The day is almost unbearably hot already although it's not even eight o'clock yet, the sky a deep, vivid blue without so much as a single fluffy cloud. Of course, the fact that the a/c in Hoseok's car has been broken since the Jurassic Era is not helping either.
Thankfully, once they're done with the morning meeting with their manager and have picked up the schedule for the day, Jimin finds he has enough time to take a quick dip in the sea and cool down before his twice weekly 9 o' clock beach fitness class.
"You coming?" he asks Hobi.
"Nope. I have a Latin dance 1 on 1 in fifteen minutes. Ooh, it's with my favorite student too."
Jimin already knows that glint in his eyes.
"You mean the bored rich cougar who keeps grabbing your butt?" he wrinkles his nose at the thought.
Hoseok laughs out loud at his expression. "Chimmy, you are young and clueless, but one day you will learn all about the charms of mature love."
"Ew. Just go. Enjoy getting your ass groped."
"Oh, I will, " Hoseok throws back over his shoulder with a shit eating grin and a small wave.
Jimin makes his way down the neatly trimmed lawn of the hotel they work at. This is their second summer teaching various dance and fitness classes at the fancy five - star hotel. At first, Jimin felt a little apprehensive about not belonging in this immaculately manicured place, but the people have been overwhelmingly nice since day one, so he got used to it. The grass sloping down to the soft yellow sand is vividly green and lush despite the almost oppressive heat of the summer. It's early enough that the beach is still relatively peaceful when he reaches the water, a towel slung over his shoulder. Some early risers have already settled in, and he waves to a few familiar faces. The majority of the loungers are unoccupied though, with most guests still eating their fancy buffet breakfast, complete with quail eggs, French cheeses, smoked salmon and who knows what else.
Jimin takes off his shirt. He loves the sea in the morning, calm and crystal clear with the low tide. He gets in slowly and pauses when the water reaches mid thigh. It's cool, the sun overhead not having had the time to warm it up yet. His body is overheated and sleepy still, and if he's being honest, he's a little pissed off at himself about last night, so he takes a few moments to just stand there, adjust to the water temperature gradually, stare out at the horizon letting his mind clear of negative thoughts. He can almost physically feel the tension and negativity draining out of him, although it takes some effort to ignore the noise coming from a group of guys who have started playing water volleyball a little way off from him. It takes some concentration but he manages to tune them out. That is, until two things happen simultaneously. He feels a ball hitting him square in the back of his poor, hungover head. At the exact same moment, he hears something large launching itself into the sea, splashing cold water all over him.
Well, if he wasn't fully awake before, he sure is now, icy water dripping from his sun-heated back unpleasantly.
"Oh shit, I'm sorry!"
Jimin inhales deeply through the nose. He will not be rude to a guest. Although this fucker and his friends had the entire freakin empty beach to themselves and could have chosen a million spots to play without soaking other people.
He plasters a fake grin on his face and turns around. "It's okay. It's fine."
He expects the culprit to fuss about it some more, but he barely has time to catch sight of wet black hair, red swim trunks and an impressive six pack before the guy's turning around and going back to his friends.
Jimin sighs, wades a few steps further into the water, and dives in. Might as well. He's already soaking wet.
Despite the rocky start to his morning, by the time he's out of the water, mostly dry and with a fresh coat of sunscreen slathered all over, Jimin feels much better. Besides, the prospect of his fitness class with the guests always puts him in a good mood.
It's a free class, and anyone can join in, although there are a lot of guests who are regulars and who make it a point to show up and join in every time. It's mostly old ladies and moms with kids, a few middle-aged women with an aggressive tan and fake boobs. Jimin amps up the dance aspects of the class, always creating new playlists with all the popular summer hits to get the crowd going. No one is particularly good, but it's always a lot of fun, everyone flailing around, trying to get the steps right. It's not surprising that when he puts on his headset and starts the music, there's already a group of enthusiasts gathered on the soft sand.
"Good morning, beautiful people! Are you ready to get fit?" There are a few cheers and claps.
"All right then! Let's shake our booties awake!"
They start out with a bit of stretching, just to warm up. It feels good. The sun is still gentle on the horizon, and fresh air is wafting in from the sea. Despite the swim, his muscles are still stiff from the alcohol and sleeping like a drunken log. Today it feels good to start out slow, and it’s a lucky coincidence that his mix starts out with a couple of mellower songs. A few songs in, just as the beat is starting to pick up, he is already back to his old self, all traces of his hangover gone. A bigger crowd has gathered now, new arrivals trickling in, attracted by the energetic tunes and the general air of silliness.
The work out starts gaining momentum, Jimin upping the tempo and incorporating more complicated elements. It’s always a little funny to him how all the middle-aged ladies are struggling to keep up. Not in a mean way, he’s just endeared by how enthusiastic they are and how determined not to let him down. He wants to hug every single one of them.
The deep bass of a popular club banger throbs from the speakers, and Jimin’s attention is momentarily caught by a few whoops and hollers coming from the side. Great.
It’s the volleyball douche and his friends, coming to join in.
There are four of them, he notices. A broad-shouldered god and a cute, tall dude with shaggy hair are practically dragging the arrogant jerk who got Jimin wet and another, short, skinny dude with a pretty face. They are all unfairly hot, Jimin notices, and for some reason it pisses him off. He doesn’t want them here, especially up front, which seems to be where they’re headed. It makes no sense, he's being unreasonable - he knows, but it makes him even angrier that the guy – his archenemy – he thinks dramatically, is resisting. Like it’s beneath him to have fun in Jimin’s shitty free fitness class.
Finally, he seems to relent, and all four of them take their positions to one side of the front row. The shaggy guy and the broad-shouldered Adonis get into it immediately, although neither of them is very good. Every few seconds, one of them seems to fall out of rhythm entirely, and then they flop against each other in a heap of giggles. The skinny guy (Jimin’s not sure he’s ever seen anyone so pale at the beach) just stands to the side, with an amused smirk lifting up one corner of his mouth. The douche bag, to Jimin’s utter annoyance, seems to be the best of the four by far. Although he starts out with reluctance, he catches up so quickly, and follows the routine so flawlessly that he could easily teach the class instead of Jimin.
He obviously spends a ton of time at the gym. His body is chiseled, all lean muscles, and Jimin wills himself not to drool at the sight of his powerful thighs or the sharp V of his hips. He might be utterly fuckable, but he is still a grade A jerk, and Jimin is not in a forgiving mood today. Everything about this person seems to be rubbing him the wrong way: his arrogant smirk, the way he looks at Jimin in challenge, the way he’s, frankly, showing off now that he’s decided to actually participate. The ladies around him are enjoying the show, eyeing him like a hot meal, and he’s playing oblivious, staring at Jimin like he doesn’t know he might possibly cause several nice OAPs to keel over from a heart attack every time he bends or flexes.
Hoseok shows up a couple of songs before the end of the class, looking just a little disheveled, but in a great mood. As usual, he joins Jimin and starts doing the routine side by side with him. Jimin is happy for the moral support. Everyone’s spirits lift, although just a second ago they were panting and struggling to keep up with the home stretch. It's the Hoseok effect. The ladies perk up visibly, and, to Jimin’s surprise, so does the pale skinny dude. Interesting.
Jimin cranks the tempo up to the max for a couple of minutes at the end, Hoseok hyping up the crowd, and the music reaching a fever pitch. He likes to make the last part just a little bit challenging for them, because he knows it leaves them with a sense of accomplishment and excitement. Of course, he never takes it too far. He doesn’t want the class to end with him having to call an ambulance.
“Okay guys! Thank you, you were wonderful! See you again soon,” he shouts into his headset, to a mix of relief and adrenaline from the people. Some of them plop down onto the sand, while a few are obviously keen for more, continuing to do their own exercises to the music mix that is just drawing to a close.
Before the crowd disperses, Jimin always goes to say hi to his regulars. This is something he likes doing at the end of every class, just checking how they’re doing. It’s good for business, but it’s also something that he simply enjoys on a basic human level.
He turns around to take off his headset and turn off the music first, but a sudden loud outburst of cheers makes him turn around. There, in all his douchey glory, is the volleyball guy doing a series of backflips and handsprings. Everyone is whooping and clapping, and the guy finishes off with a flashy aerial. He smiles wide, looking directly at Jimin, and for a moment, Jimin feels something warm stirring low in his belly.
He squashes it like a bug, picks up his gear and equipment and leaves without a glance back.
“Hey, Chim, wait up,” Hoseok calls when he finally catches up with him halfway up the lawn. “Whoa, what was all that about?”
“What?” Jimin asks, feigning ignorance, although he knows perfectly well what Hobi is referring to.
“The hot dude. He was practically gagging for you.”
“Who? You mean the arrogant prick who hit me in the head with a ball this morning, splashed cold water all over me, and finally stole my thunder at my own class? He was not gagging for me. He was just showing off.”
“Please,” Hobi cackles. “I can’t believe I missed all that drama.”
“No drama,” Jimin replies in an unnecessarily savage tone. “Just a really annoying, rude person.”
“I mean, I don’t know. I’ll admit that his flirting methods sound a little bit childish,” Hoseok concedes, “but he was definitely eye-fucking you.”
“Ugh. Shut up. Hopefully, he won’t show up again. I haven’t seen him before. And I sincerely hope I won't see him again.”
“I’d be surprised if he doesn't show up next time too,” Hobi waggles his eyebrows. “All that unresolved sexual tension between you guys, I’m amazed it didn’t change the tide.”
For a second, Jimin wishes he does show up again. It would feel so satisfying to tell him to fuck off in so many words. He can feel the anger starting to boil in him again.
“The only tension between us was me trying my best not to deck him in that smug face. And not in a sexual way,” he huffs. “Come on now, hurry. I need to take a shower and change. I have a ballroom dance group in an hour.”
Even as he hurries across the soft grass, he can still hear Hoseok giggling behind him. Some best friend he is.