#bts reactons

You, on the other hand, forced your best friend, a short, blonde haired man-child at the name of Jimin, to help you move it. Through an hour-long argument, which mainly consisted of Jimin pouting like the small child he is, you had to be the adult in the room and explain all the geographical reasons why it would make sense for him to help you move in first given the location of your dorm and his. 

But of course, Jimin chose to ignore reason. And you and Jimin ended every argument like you usually did. Flipping a coin. And like most times, it flipped in your favor. The sounds of Jimin’s grunts and pants as the two of you trudged up the stairs caused your eyes to smirk as you glanced over at him. You loved being right. 

A thin sheen of sweat was beginning to pool up on his forehead, the sticky feeling no doubt causing discomfort. The sun was beating down on the old dorm building, placed farthest away from the center of campus. Just your luck. 

The twenty or so years weighing down the old brick building lessened the effects the air conditioning had overtime, which left the air stale and musty. “I can’t even express how much I don’t want to do this,” he panted, nearly throwing himself back down the flight of stairs he just ascended when he realized that there was still another floor to go. 

“Well, I didn’t want to pack up your entire room for you, but see, that’s real friendship,” you chided, a cocky smile on your pink-tinted lips as you readjusted your grip on the boxes in your arms and began walking up the last flight of stairs. Jimin slowly trudged behind.

Using the little flexibility you retained from the years of gymnastics your parents forced you to partake in, you raised your right leg, clothed in thick sweatpants, and pushed on the door, causing it to open. The halls were bustling with students and their families moving to and fro. Some were embracing their loved ones, tears pouring out of their eyes and phrases like ‘I’ll miss you’ being exchanged. Some were happily talking to their roommates and their families.

So many different emotions all condensed into one hallway. 

“Do you know what room number you’re in?” Jimin asked beside you, panting like a dog as his blonde hair stuck to his damp forehead. “Of course I know what room I’m in. Who do you think I am?” you chortled, your eyes scanning the room numbers in pure confusion. Or maybe you didn’t. 

“So, who do I think you are?” Jimin dragged on, a smirk on his lips. “To me, you look like a confused freshman who doesn’t know what room they’re in,” he teased. You shrugged your shoulders. “It just slipped my mind,” you admitted. “Just slipped my mind,” Jimin mocked in a higher pitched voice, his head moving side to side as he spoke. “Go ask your R.A.,” he suggested, bouncing up and down on his knees to regain strength. 

“And how am I supposed to know who that is? I mean, look at all these people,” you said, using the flick of your face to gesture towards the many bodies moving about in the corridor. “Well, if you read, on that door down the hall, in big, bright letters, it says R.A.,” Jimin pointed out, his tone filled with amusement. You followed his gaze and chuckled to yourself when you did, in fact, find said door. 

Rolling your eyes at your best friend, you began dodging people as you passed. “Reading. Remember that? Probably slipped your mind, too,” he muttered, pain shooting through his arms as the weight of your boxes began to strain his muscles. The door was closed and on it was a list of rules and regulations, all seemingly typical of a door belonging to the R.A. 

Balancing the box in your arms on your knee, you placed three quick but powerful knocks to the door before quickly putting your knee back down and holding the box with both hands. You puckered your bottom lip out and blew air out, causing the flow to travel up your face, temporarily cooling it. “Maybe he’s out and about right now,” Jimin impatiently suggested. 

“Maybe you just need to be a little bit more patient,” you instructed, chuckling when you heard a groan escape Jimin’s plump lips. Quickly, the door swung open, the slight breeze it created cooling your hot body. Emerging from the dark room was someone who didn’t fit the description of a typical R.A. 

What stood in front of you was a chiseled, well-built young man. You tilted your head up slightly so you could meet the brown eyes of this stranger. He wore a white t-shirt that pressed against his bare, fair skin, faintly outlining the curves of his muscles. On his legs were sweatpants the same color as yours, tight in all the right places, exposing his meaty thighs. 

And his face. Fuck, his face. His jawline clenched as anger surged through his body, but all it did was make him even more attractive. His forehead was slightly hidden as a small section of his charcoal hair curled over. His hands were comfortably placed in the pockets of his sweats, the veins snaking up and around his forearm like that of a vine against a tree. 

“What do you want?” The stranger’s voice came out strong, deep, and sharp like thousands of knives. You felt small under his judgemental gaze. “Are you the R.A.?” you questioned. He let out a deep, almost condescending chuckle, shocking you. “Did you read the door?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, amused with your stupidity. You ignored the question, posed to make you feel small, and you swallowed the saliva pooling in your throat. 

“I forgot what room number I have and I was wondering if you could remind me,” you snarkily replied, shocked by your tone. Jungkook smirked. He liked girls with a little fire in them. “Give me a second,” he said, reaching with his veined arm towards possibly a table hidden by the wall. Quickly, he pulled a packet of papers towards his face, slightly holding it out so he could see under the yellow light illuminating the hallway. 

His eyes scanned the paper and you noted how he nibbled on the inside of his mouth as he tried to make sense of the words and numbers on the pages. “Wait, you don’t even know her name,” Jimin sighed beside you. Jungkook’s eyes flashed up darkly from the page as he looked straight at Jimin with a cold, hard stare. Within a second, his eyes were on you, the obvious irritation still clearly evident. 

“Well, are you gonna tell me or not?” he grumbled. “Y/n Y/l/n.” His gaze lingered on you for a few more seconds before he looked back down at the pages, the charts and numbers making a bit more sense. You pursed your lips in confusion when he let out a deep groan. “222,” he said, tossing the papers aside on the floor without care. “Do you know where that is?” you inquired, wanting to escape the gaze of this stranger. 

He began to walk into the hallway, giving no fucks about the distance between the two of you. Once you realized that he would keep moving, regardless if you did or not, your sore feet moved aside and you watched as the muscles flexed in his back as he stretched his arms ahead of him. He walked a mere three feet before turning and facing a door, to which he opened and pushed open. 

“Home sweet home,” he said in a not-so-cheery voice. The door, identical in color to the rest on the floor, was right beside his room. You quickly glanced at Jimin who was trying his best to hold in his laughter. 

“Don’t bother me again.” The R.A. sped past you and disappeared into his room, slamming it behind him. “He seemed so sweet and welcoming,” Jimin joked, walking into your room. It was luckily a single. The walls were covered in worn-out bricks and the floor was brown wood. The room wasn’t the largest, but it was just a little bigger than the room you had back home. Home. Well, at Jimin’s house. 

In the right corner was a plain bed, void of any pillows or sheets. Against that same wall was a plain brown desk, a few shelves hanging on the wall above it. On the opposite wall, directly across, was a dresser. And that was your room for the school year. Jimin bent over and placed the boxes on the floor with a huff before standing back up. “I hate this,” he complained, leaning back to stretch his aching back. You chuckled and placed your boxes down beside him. 

Four boxes. Your whole life fit in four boxes. Well, that, and your guitar case, leaning up against the bare wall.

Running his fingers through his hair, Jimin motioned towards the wall you shared with the R.A., whose name you still hadn’t learned. “He seems like fun. He should totally be your first friend,” Jimin advised, practically collapsing on the not-so-comfortable mattress. “I don’t know why he seems so upset. Like, this is the job he signed up for, so,” you explained, kicking off your shoes and sitting next to Jimin on the bed. 

He shrugged. “Just avoid him, then. And if he gives you trouble, call me over,” Jimin said, causing you to laugh. “And what are you going to do? Hm?” you asked, raising your eyebrow. “Hey, I could take him,” Jimin defended, turning to look at you. “You might be able to,” you teased, your mood beginning to mellow out. 

“Can we go start on my dorm now? I’m getting tired but I know I can’t sleep yet,” Jimin requested, not physically nor emotionally ready to begin hauling more boxes. You let out a deep sigh, stretching your legs out in front of you. “I suppose,” you surmised, getting up off of the bed and putting your shoes back on. 

With an attitude identical to Jimin’s when he helped move you in, you carried the seemingly hundreds of boxes to Jimin’s far nicer and spacious dorm. It was in this room that you met Jimin’s roommate Taehyung, who had a large amount of energy and a cute boxy smile. Lucky Jimin already has a nice guy to talk to. But all you had was a small, hot dorm with an asshole for an R.A next door. 

You decided to stay and help Jimin unpack and in the process, you got to know Taehyung a little bit better. He was an acting major who had the cutest dog waiting for him at home. Yes, he showed you pictures. Probably thousands. But just as the natural sunlight outside began to dim, you made the executive decision to go back to your dorm and unpack. 

Jimin hugged you goodbye and promised the two of you, well three of you, including Taehyung, would go get breakfast in the morning. And you agreed. 

You locked the door to your dorm once you returned and you took off your shoes for good, no intention of putting them back on. With sore and exhausted limbs, you reached into the first box and pulled out your simple bedding, messily putting it on the bed. You then proceeded to put your very few clothes away into the dresser, frowning when you saw a rip forming in your favorite shirt. 

And after unpacking some school supplies, you were able to literally collapse on the bed. Your face scrunched up as you felt how uncomfortable it was, but as you stared up at the ceiling, you knew that your back would get used to the discomfort over the course of the year. 

Pulling the covers over your body, you turned to face the wall as you waited impatiently for sleep to overcome you, but you nearly put your head through the wall when you heard banging coming from the opposite wall: the wall you shared with the R.A. 

You turned around and faced that wall as if you could see what object it was, but all you did was listen curiously, trying to figure out what was causing that loud sound. But at the sounds of high pitched moans, you knew immediately what was banging against the wall and what was causing it to. 

Cringing, you turned back around and plugged your fingers in your ears, upset that something you wanted so badly, sleep, would refrain from coming now until it was quiet. 

The moans and banging occurred for what seemed like hours, and just as things began to calm down, you heard an ear-piercing squeal as the mystery woman probably reached her oncoming climax. 

“Jungkook!” 

What a way to learn the R.A.’s name, you thought to yourself. 

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