23 candles: boys_charlie_xcx.mp3 [05/13]
Min Yoongi is positive that you and Park Jimin share exactly one brain cell, and Jimin hogs it for the most part. He says this from years of experience of being caught in the middle of your idiotic fights—well, he wasn’t really caught in the middle per se, so much as we he was a highly amused bystander. He’d had the misfortune of going to middle school with the two of you, and he wasn’t exactly a friend, but you knew each other well enough that you said hi if you saw him out in public. It was almost laughable really, because outside of your friendship Jimin was calm, cool, popular—the kind of guy that never raised his voice at others and was well liked. But well… when you were in the picture—
“I’m going to kill you,” he hisses and Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest, with no plans to interrupt Jimin’s conversation with a locker. “But not right away. No, I’m going to take your arms and legs out with a steel pipe so you can’t move or crawl and then when I’m finished I’m going to drop you off at the boardwalk for the seagulls to finish you off, let them peck at your body until you die. Slowly. And. Painfully.”
A gasp sounds from inside the locker, “How dare you use my secret against me! I trusted you! You know I’m terrified of seagulls! The rats of the air!”
“Those are pigeons, you idi—“
Jimin pauses when he hears someone clear their throat, when he looks up again it Yoongi—shirtless and still in his uniform shorts. He cocks a brow at the younger boy.
“I have a question,” Yoongi says, unblinkingly. He’s interrupted by a loud clang from the locker and before he can address it, Jimin slams a fist against the middle door—an answering groan fills the room. Yoongi ammends his statement, “I have several questions.”
“Ow…. ow…. ow… OW!” You whine, but Jimin doesn’t let up on his grip on your ear, lips pursed tightly when he leads you out of the locker room. He lets you go when you reach the field, hands perched on his hips and looking like a disappointed dad. “Don’t frown at me! You’re the one who dropped a baseball bat on my head. Look at me! I have a lump!”
“Those are your horns, you evil little girl,” he scowls. “What did I tell you about sneaking in to the boys locker room?”
“Only on saturdays?” You shrug and Jimin reaches out to pinch your arm. Hard. “Owwwwwoowowowwow! I wasn’t spying this time!”
“Stop lying you pervert,” he glares. “What were you doing in there?”
You rub your arm with a pout before offering him the crumpled up bag, “You left this at lunch, I came to return it.”
“This is a ziplock.” He says blandly, you watch in amusement as his nostrils flare slightly.
“You just left it on the table I wasn’t sure if you needed it back.” You say innocently, hands behind your back as you kick at a rock. Jimin blinks at you once, twice before he’s in moving again—hand motioning for you to follow him.
“Come here,” he nods and you backtrack immediately. You really should start doing cardio, considering how often your best friend chased you out of places. Jimin’s teeth are clenched when you make your way towards the bleachers, “Come here now, I just want to talk.”
“You can’t hit me, Jimin!” You whine, taking the bleachers up two at a time. You curse yourself being an idiot on top of uncoordinated. He was gonna catch you this time for sure! “We’re best friends.”
“I’m a girl!” You exasperate finally and Jimin pauses, sending you a disgusted look.
“You should look in a mirror before calling yourself that,” he chastised and you glare.
“Rude.” You scoff, and you should’ve known better than to let your guard down around the soccer captain—he has you pinned against the wire fence, whimpering softly as you clutch his letterman jacket. “Jimin, I’m too young and beautiful to die.”
Jimin’s face morphs into one of disgust, “I should throw you off this stand on principle.”
“You don’t think I’m beautiful?” You gasp, hand to your chest. “I’ll have you know, I’m main character material.”
“If by main character you’re talking about the nightmare on elm street movies then sure,” he snorts and you grip him by the collar.
“What did you say to me?” You scowl but it’s not menacing in the slightest, if anything it’s… kind of cute. Jimin rolls his eyes but takes your hands into one of his, the other braced just above your head, effectively caging you in. You pout.
“Stop sneaking into the boys locker room,” he deadpans. Jimin squeezes your hands once before letting them go completely and standing upright.
“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such a shitty wing man,” you growl and Jimin pinches one of your cheeks roughly.
“In case you haven’t noticed you’re a shit person to wingman for, babe.” He grins and you contemplate shoving him down the bleachers yourself. “And stop skipping lunch to watch the basketball team practice or else I’ll tell their coach. I mean it, ___. Eat something.”
“How did you even know that?” You call after him but Jimin does what he always does when you’re talking about something he doesn’t care about—smiles and nods before leaving entirely.
You slam your lunch tray down on the table, pinning Sana with a heated glare—the girl pauses in tearing the crust off of her pb&j to raise a brow at you.
“Did you tell Jimin I was watching the basketball team during lunch?” You ask, throwing yourself in yourself your chair.
“He came looking for you the other day and I told him I hadn’t seen you eat lunch in a while. Any other assumptions stem from you being a giant pervert.” She says dryly and you gasp.
“I’m not a pervert!” You glare.
“Where are you headed after this?” Sana blinks.
“The frat house,” you admit before you can think better of it. You wince before clearing your throat indignantly, chin in the air, “I like boys. That doesn’t mean I’m a pervert.”
“If you like boys so much why don’t you just get a boyfriend?” Sana asks, nibbling on a carrot. She looked like a bunny and if you didn’t think she would absolutely chop your hands off if you tried to pinch her cheeks. “Matter of fact, why not Jimin?”
“First of all ew, second of all double ew.” You sneer, “I like the idea of boys that doesn’t mean I want to date one. Have you ever actually held a conversation with a boy before?”
“Mhm, unfortunately,” Sana agrees, “Okay, well what about Jimin? You like him.”
“Jimin is…. he’s Jimin. I, personally don’t think he’s that great, but everyone else seems to think so. I don’t like popular guys but even if I did I could never see Jimin as more than a friend,” You scrunch your nose at the thought, “And I’m sure he would agree too!”
Sana had been watching your little cat and mouse game since middle school—though she hadn’t actually gotten close to you until you were both in college and you were forced to go your separate ways with Jimin due to different majors. And even then the two of you were obnoxiously close still. Sana wasn’t stupid though she times questioned her sanity at having befriended you and knew part of you veering from Jimin was his increased popularity over the years. It was a lot of pressure, on you, she was sure. Girls were constantly vying for his attention and it got exhausting. You didn’t want to be the person that dulled Jimin’s shine, or whines when he got to busy to hang out, so you let yourself fade to the background.
While you stayed the same after all these years—Jimin hadn’t. He’d gotten better looking, better at talking to girls, smarter, more driven. Sana could see how you’d think he’d changed, because he had, but you had as well. And despite what you thought, you weren’t growing apart from the boy, you were pushing him away. If anything, your sudden fixation on boys it seemed was to fill a hole that you hadn’t realized Jimin still occupied. It was annoying, seeing the two of you dance around each other—seeing the looks of longing Jimin sent your way when he thought you weren’t paying attention.
But there was nothing Sana could do, it was something you had to figure out on your own.
“Hey ____, 1998 called, they want their clothes back,” Jungkook snorts as soon as you walk in the house. You pause at the doorway, glancing at your crop top and baggy overalls. So maybe you did still dress like a kid sometimes, but in your defense you had art today and didn’t want to mess up any of your clothes. And plus it was cute! Who the hell was Jeon Jungkook?
“Jungkook, 2080 called, you’re dead and wasted your time on earth being a dick.” You roll your eyes, leaving the boy with his jaw slack and hand stuffed in a Doritos bag.
“That wasn’t even funny, just hurtful,” you hear him say while you take the stairs two at a time. Jimin’s roommate was obnoxious in a way you aspired to be but ultimately would never achieve. Because while Jungkook was attractive what he made up for in looks he lacked in brain cells. You’re about to tell Jimin as much when you throw his bedroom door open, the knob slamming against the wall and making you wince.
Jimin clutches a towel to his chest—bare save for a pair of boxers and socks. His hair is still wet, probably from a shower if the way the spicy smell of body wash clogging your nostrils is anything to go by. Jimin cards a hand through orange locks, sending you a scowl.
“Jesus Christ, do you ever knock?” He curses, letting the towel drop as you throw yourself on his bed. Your bury your face in his pillow, inhaling the sweet scent of his shampoo. “And you better not get makeup on my sheets like last time, you hear me?”
You turn around on his bed, sighing deeply as you stare up at the glow in the dark stars you had forced him to tape onto his ceiling. They were tacky and honestly, pretty ugly but Jimin kept them up there because you liked them.
“What are you doing here?” Jimin asks and you watch as he carefully rubs lotion into his skin, cocking a brow at you.
“Nothing,” you grumble, hugging one of the plushies you had left here once upon a time ago. “Sana just said some stuff at lunch that bothered me—you missed a spot, by the way.”
Jimin cranes his neck to stare at his back but it’s no use, he haphazardly pats at his skin before you’re sighing, motioning for him to sit on the bed. He obliges and you sit up to better assist him. “What did Sana say?”
Your hands are small and cold on his skin, making him shiver as you do your best to rub the lotion into the spot just under his neck. “Stupid stuff. You have a knot here. Stressed?”
“Soccer stuff, no biggie,” he shrugs and bites his lip to contain a groan when you press your thumb into the muscle. “Why’s it stupid?”
“Nothing, she just said that I should start dating,” you grumble and Jimin stiffens beneath your grip. “Loosen up will you? You’re not helping.”
Jimin shakes your hands off him, turning to face you so quickly you nearly tumble backwards, an arm around your waist catches you easily enough, tugging you closer. “You have paint on your overalls.”
You glance down to see what he’s talking about and sure enough—a glob of Black paint is staining the denim. You groan a little with a frown, “I was so careful today, too.”
“You’re never careful.” Jimin chides softly, but he’s smiling and helping you to your feet, “You should get changed. I still have some clothes you can fit in the bottom drawer.”
“Or I could just go home.” You sigh, rising to your feet, but Jimin’s gripping your hand with his.
“Don’t go yet,” he shrugs before pinning you with a look, “In fact spend the night.”
“We’re a little too old for sleepovers aren’t we?” You tease, but accept the clothes he gives you easily enough, “Fine. But just for tonight, Park. Can’t have the boys at your frat thinking I’m easy.”
No, they’d probably think you were taken, though.
“So were you serious about Sana?” Jimin calls, just as you shimmy out of your overalls. You smile when you see what he’d handed you to wear—a hoodie you’d gotten on a class trip a few years back. It was apart of a set but there was no way Jimin was fitting into anything from back then. Not after he’d bulked up these last few years.
“Yeah, I mean, I told her no of course,” you return and Jimin’s grateful you aren’t there to see his body sag with relief, “but I mean she has a point. But I don’t want to be known as the school pervert?”
“I think that not hiding in the boys locker room will fix that though?” Jimin snorts but it does on his tongue immediately when you walk out of his closet, scowling at him adorably and swimming in his hoodie.
“Next you’re gonna tell me to delete the photo collection I have of Min Yoongi’s ass,” you sniff.
“Yah,” Jimin snaps, and you roll your eyes with a shiver, “Is that anyway for a girl to be acting?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever” you wave him off before rubbing your hands up and down your arms in a poor attempt st creating body heat, “Jeez is it necessary for you guys to keep the house this freezing all the time?”
Jimin tsks at you when you stand toe to toe with him, head falling back in a whine. He sighs before grabbing the strings of your—his—hoodie, tugging gently until your face is covered and you can’t see, forced to clutch at his shirt. You beam at him anyway and Jimin stills—it’s embarrassing really, that after all these years he still froze under your attention. You really were an idiot for not figuring it out sooner.
Park Jimin was—is in love with you.
“It’s a good thing you have a best friend who’s generous with body heat,” he mutters, letting go of your hoodie to press his hands atop your own, he leads you back until your knees meet the pillow top of his bed—a small oof leaving your lips. Jimin crawls in beside you, turning on his side until he can stare at you while you pull the hood back.
An arm snakes over your waist under the covers, pulling you to him gently until your hands find purchase on his chest.
“You know,” You murmur softly, tracing circles against his t shirt, “Sana said something else weird too.”
“Hmm?” Jimin hums, a hand landing atop yours. He laces your fingers together until it’s a safe distance from his rapid beating heart. It was too early to show his cards. Not yet.
“She said…” you begin softly, staring up at him from under lashes, “she said I should date you.”
Jimins fingers twitch against your own and you watch his expression carefully, but it’s perfectly schooled—he’s staring back at you with the most curious look on his face, eyes heavy lidded and lips parted. He pushes a strand of hair back from your face, his tone calm as ever when he asks you, “And what did you say?”
“That… that’d…” you gulp, turning your face deeper into his shoulder so you didn’t have to look at him, “It’d be weird, right?”
“I mean why would anyone think that we’d be good together, you know?” You laugh half heartedly, but the smile slips from your face in an instant.
Jimin eyes you carefully—in his bed, in his clothes, with his arms around you. He snorts, “Yeah, why would anyone think that?”
You clear your throat, clearly regretful at having made the atmosphere in his room weird. A small hand presses to his stomach and he tenses at the touch. “Besides, you’re my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do if we ever broke up, you know? I don’t think I could lose you like that. I mean.. n-not that you were offering or anything but I’m just saying that it would be too—oh!”
Jimin’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until your face is buried in his chest and your words are muffled into silence. He rests his chin on your head, hands sliding up the back of your hoodie to warm themselves against your skin. You hiss at the touch but don’t try and fight him.
“Message received,” Jimin sighs softly, closing his eyes and pretending that you didn’t just unknowingly reject him, “Go to sleep now.”
“But I—“ you begin weakly.
“Sleep.” Jimin emphasizes.
It isn’t until much later that you realize that Park Jimin wasn’t as innocent as he seemed, that he wasn’t as oblivious to social cues, or the fact that people constantly thought you were together. He most definitely wasn’t oblivious to the implications of letting you sleep in his room that night. No, Park Jimin knew exactly what he was doing and exactly what message he was sending to the rest of frat brothers. It isn’t until after the entire school thought you’d slept with him (via Jeon Jungkook’s big mouth) that you realized the extent of Jimin’s feelings for you.
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