#minimoni

Warnings : Miscommunication, lots of angst and bits of fluff (not kidding like 75% angst 15% smut 10% fluff), annoying side characters but Hobi is the sweetest, smut (oral (both but m more described) sex in different positions, vanilla (kinda ???? Idek), some fingering and lots of whining, I kinda suck at writing smut pls don't come at me), minors dni!

Authors note : Le me on a random thursday night : "hey let's write something short real quick" (... ;n;)

An2 : anyway lol hope you'll love this fic for my precious Mini as much as I do :)

Gentle reminder that all rights are reserved, so please do not copy, translate or repost my stories under your name. Also I do not own BTS or their actions, the stories are entirely fictionnal and does not depict real-life events or involve any actual member of BTS.

“Mia’s got a thing for Jimin,” Noelle leans in to whisper in your ear right in the middle of an awkward silence during physiology class.

Of course, she says it at the exact moment you're wondering —for the hundredth time this hour— what the hell you're even doing here, while the professor has ordered complete silence so you can work on an exercise you don’t —unsurprisingly— understand at all.

You never should’ve ended up in physiology in the first place. You got stuck in this class because of a registration error at the start of freshman year —and out of sheer loyalty, Noelle signed up for it the following semester just to be with you. Probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for you. You don’t think she realizes how grateful you are —you wouldn’t last a minute in this hell on your own.

“What?” you mumble back, completely lost. Rubbing your eyes, you silently pray she doesn’t take offense at your frown and suddenly blurt something out way too loudly, like she usually does. Noelle isn’t exactly subtle, and if she accidentally shouted right now, you’d both be stuck in detention every evening for the rest of the week.

“Mia. The new girl,” she whispers, like it’s obvious. As she leans over to scribble a calculation on your paper —the one you’ve been pretending to work on for at least twenty minutes— your gaze drifts toward the front row, landing on Mia’s perfectly tight red bun.

From where you're sitting, you only see her back and the side of her face, but it’s enough to make out her lifted chin, straight nose, and soft, rounded cheeks. Like always, she’s sitting perfectly straight, her neck slightly tilted as she looks down at her sheet. You can’t see her eyes, but you know she’s completely focused on the exercise. She’s probably the only one.

“A crush on Jimin? Seriously?” You murmur, unconvinced, frowning. Mia shares most of her classes with you and Noelle, which is already odd enough, but since she showed up a month ago, you’ve barely paid attention to her —and nothing about her has ever suggested she might be into Jimin.

Then again, she’s pretty discreet. Always polite, so small and slight you barely notice her most of the time, and constantly buried in her notes —you’ve probably exchanged, what, seven words with her at most.

You’ve seen her with a few friends here and there, but never with guys —or even just Jimin— and she’s clearly not the type to show up at parties. Honestly, she strikes you as the kind of girl who puts her studies first and everything else second. Aside from her notebooks, she doesn’t really look at anyone, anyway.

“Mhm,” Noelle nods quickly, completely certain. Eyebrows raised, she absentmindedly picks at her nail with the cap of a Bic pen. “Trust me, I’m never wrong about this stuff.”

You raise an eyebrow, unconvinced. She just rolls her eyes in response.

“Okay, fine,” she finally sighs. “I heard her telling her friend during the break that she wants to ask him to the movies. But shh,” she adds, a hint of a grin tugging at her lips.

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. She really is such a little snoop.

The rest of the class goes by in relative silence —much to Noelle’s frustration. She doesn’t have any more information on Mia and her crush, which, for someone as nosy as her, is practically an insult. She keeps muttering that she’ll investigate on her own, frowning.

It makes you smile faintly, but you just nod and stifle a yawn. Like everyone, you like gossip —but you much prefer it when Noelle does the digging and brings it to you.

Still, when the professor finally dismisses the class, you find yourself lingering. And before you can stop it, your gaze drifts back to Mia.

You’d think, after spending this long with Noelle, you’d have learned that curiosity only leads to trouble —you’ve lost count of how many times she’s dragged you into a mess chasing the latest rumor— but you can’t help it.

You don’t know how to explain it, but there’s something about this girl that unsettles you. Intrigues you.

As usual, she doesn’t pay attention to anyone —not even her supposed crush. She barely glances at him. Doesn’t look at you either, even though you're standing right there in the middle of the room. She just packs her things and disappears into the hallway.

You lean slightly to follow her with your eyes, but within seconds she’s gone, and soon you can’t even hear her footsteps anymore.

That’s when Jimin catches your attention instead.

He didn’t look at Mia —but he must’ve felt you staring, because two rows ahead of you, he turns and glances over his shoulder. At first, he looks surprised to find you already watching him, but then his face breaks into a wide smile that crinkles his eyes.

You don’t smile back. You just nod when he gives you a small wave —and somehow, his grin only grows wider as he shakes his head.

Not the least bit bothered, he heads out with his friends.

You stay there for a moment, leaning against the table, staring into space.

Mia and Jimin. It’s… weird. Normally, you're the last person to care about this kind of thing, but this time, it’s like you keep getting stuck on it. They’re so mismatched you can’t even picture it.

“What were you doing?” Noelle asks when you finally join her in the hallway.

Your eyes fall on Jimin again, a little further ahead, smiling at something one of his friends said.

“Nothing,” You answer absentmindedly, frowning.

In your head, you try to imagine what a Jimin-and-Mia relationship would even look like. You can barely form a clear picture —and when you do, you end up grimacing. It feels even less believable.

But then again… why not?

“Where did you put your chemistry notes again?” Noelle grumbles, lifting piles of papers one after the other.

“You took them like… two days ago.”

She looks up, frowning when she sees you glued to your phone. Finals are less than a month away, and let’s just say you wouldn’t exactly suffer from doing some serious studying. “What? No way.”

“Yes way. I remember.”

She clicks her tongue, then turns to Hoseok. “Give me your notes.”

At least he makes the effort to look up from his screen. “What notes? I’m always asking you for yours.”

“I suck at chemistry, I always take Y/N’s,” she shoots back, pointing at you. Hoseok shrugs, and you sigh, already opening your mouth to explain that you probably left them at the apartment —but you're cut off by a sudden throat clearing.

In unison, the three of you look up at the newcomer —and you have to summon all your self-control to keep your eyebrows from shooting into your hairline when you realize it’s none other than Mia standing there, her round glasses perched high on her nose, just big enough to hide the redness of her cheeks.

Behind her, looking almost nervous, is another girl about her height with short brown hair —you quickly recognize her as one of the friends Mia usually hangs out with.

Her eyes land on you, and she offers a soft smile. “Are you studying for the chemistry finals? Would you mind if we joined you?” she asks, her voice full of hope. “We just transferred into the section, and we wouldn’t mind a little help…”

Behind her, her friend nods vigorously. You stay frozen like an idiot, unsure what to say. When the silence stretches a little too long, Noelle turns toward you, lips parted, brows slightly drawn together —the exact look she gets when she smells gossip. You only notice because you know that look by heart, though : to anyone else, she just looks surprised.

Hoseok, on the other hand, is terrible at poker face: when he turns to you, he looks downright horrified, and you wince without meaning to.

It’s not that you don’t like Mia —she unsettles you, and you can’t quite figure her out, but you're not about to refuse her a seat at your table. And Hoseok’s never even met her, so it’s not like he has a reason to dislike her.

What you don’t like, though, is the idea that she came over expecting you all to magically guarantee her a good grade.

Someone should probably tell her that Noelle and Hoseok systematically copy your notes because they understand absolutely nothing —despite the fact that your own grades are barely enough to scrape through the semester. And judging by the look Hoseok’s giving you, you get the feeling that someone is supposed to be you.

Except Mia flashes the shyest yet brightest smile you’ve ever seen —and you cave. “Of course. No problem!”

They sit down with you, relieved. Hoseok shoots you a death glare, while Noelle looks delighted, like she’s already plotting the best way to pry information out of Mia. Because for all the talk she never stops about it, days have passed, and Mia and Jimin haven’t spoken —or even crossed paths— once.

At first, you actually try. Noelle “coaches” them on how to take proper notes —which turns out to be completely useless, since Mia’s notes are ten times cleaner and more relevant than yours— and Hoseok tries to answer a few of their questions, before inevitably turning to you for silent help.

Barely ten minutes in, you realize they’re both adorable —and Mia even helps you understand a few points you’d completely missed. Hoseok and Noelle just nod politely, fully aware they’ll just “borrow” your notes later anyway.

You're still proud of the three of you —you last almost two hours before giving up. Mia and her friend keep working quietly, but you and Hoseok have long since gone back to your phones, resuming that stupid game you’re obsessed with, while Noelle is back to squealing about some senior girl and whatever “insane thing” she supposedly did at the last party…

At some point, Mia’s friend surprises everyone by offering to go grab sandwiches —despite having been silent until now. You start to get up, but quickly notice Mia doesn’t move at all. Feeling oddly sympathetic, you sit back down and send Noelle and Hoseok with her instead, after making them promise to bring you something.

They walk off chatting, and silence settles over the table again, broken only by the low hum of studying around you. The lounge in Building D isn’t your favorite place on campus, but you’ll admit —it’s the calmest spot if you actually want to focus. You’d never get this kind of quiet at your apartment, especially with J—

“You know if Jimin has a girlfriend?”

Mia’s voice shatters the silence, and you freeze.

On your phone screen, the dumb mobile game keeps running on its own —because you're too stunned to move a single muscle.

Slowly, very slowly, you lift your head.

On Friday afternoons, these lounges are always half-empty —that’s why you come here— but suddenly, the room doesn’t just feel quiet. It feels mute. Like everyone else has disappeared, leaving you alone with Mia and no way out of answering.

“Uh… no idea,” You mutter after a moment, nervously chewing on the end of your pen. “Why are you asking?”

Behind her oversized green glasses, Mia blushes, a shy smile tugging at her lips. Clearly, she hasn’t noticed your heel bouncing under the table. “Oh, um… just wondering,” she says, and you frown. Why do you hate that tone? And why do you get the feeling she waited for Noelle and Hoseok to leave for this?

“I mean… he’s so handsome, and nice, but I never see him with any girls, so I—”

“Maybe he’s just gay,” You cut in, annoyed, letting your pen drop onto the table with a sharp clack. You hate people with assumptions like that.

She freezes. Even from the corner of your eye, you can see her go pale. “Oh,” she says after a few seconds —more than enough time for you to lose interest and go back to your game.

When she speaks again, her small, shaky voice almost makes you roll your eyes. “You… really think…?”

“No,” You sigh. “Mia, why are you asking me?”

It’s not like you’re friends. Honestly, this might be the most you’ve ever spoken.

You can see her twisting her fingers under the table, but you say nothing. Partly because your own restless foot isn’t much better. Partly because you already know why she’s nervous. Mostly because you just don’t care.

Mia isn’t your friend. Not even close. You're already being nice letting her use your notes —you're not about to give her flirting advice too.

Still, she doesn’t give you much choice.

“Well, I heard you were friends…”

She pauses, waiting for you to confirm it. You just raise an eyebrow. “We had the same classes in first year,” you mutter. That’s all. That’s enough.

She looks surprised, like she expected more —but you don’t have more to give. Your relationship with Jimin could be summed up like that: you had the same classes in first year.

“I’d like to ask him out,” she finally admits, her face turning so red you briefly wonder if she’s having an allergic reaction. She bites her lip, nervous. “But it scares me… every time I see him, I completely lose it. Seriously, he must think I’m an idiot —I can’t even get three words out. Do you think I have a chance?”

For a second, Mia softens you. Just a little. She’s almost endearing like that —clearly flustered, clearly sincere. The way her eyes light up, the blush on her cheeks… she really likes him.

She looks like a teenager with her first crush.

It would be cute —if you were still in high school.

But you’re not. You have finals in less than a month, and if someone has to play cupid, you’d much rather it be Noelle. You have absolutely no time for this.

Still, you choose your words carefully.

“If he does have someone, he’s keeping it secret,” you shrug. “Because I haven’t heard anything.”

You almost regret it —because her whole face lights up.

She opens her mouth to speak, suddenly excited —but right then Noelle and the others come back, and she freezes.

You don’t know if it’s your expression Mia misses or just her own excitement, but Noelle looks at you suspiciously. You subtly shake your head, exasperated, and take the sandwich Hoseok hands you as a distraction.

They barely sit down before Mia starts whispering with her friend, both of them giggling with sparkling eyes —and this time, you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

You knew you shouldn’t have answered.

Noelle and Hoseok obviously notice, and Hoseok lets out a quiet snort, one eyebrow arching in amusement. Noelle, realizing she’s missed part of the story, looks personally offended and nudges you with her elbow, her eyes firing off a very obvious silent question —unlucky for her, subtlety has never really been her thing.

Mia’s friend catches the exchange. Her hand immediately comes down over Mia’s, and Mia’s mouth snaps shut.

Noelle smiles sweetly like nothing happened, but an odd chill settles over the table, leaving all of you too awkward to speak —and Mia’s friend doesn’t look remotely ready to stop glaring daggers at you.

You spend the rest of the hour in silence. You clear three levels on your game before getting bored.

“Call later?” Noelle throws over her shoulder as you step out of the building, already heading off toward her place —in the exact opposite direction of yours. You nod automatically, flashing her a thumbs-up before going your own way. Hoseok left earlier to pick up his boyfriend at the bus stop, and by the time you decided to call it a day and head home, the whole ridiculous situation had completely slipped your mind.

Which, clearly, isn’t the case for Mia.

Like any self-respecting model student, she lives right on campus. That part, you already knew —it’s not exactly hard to figure out. The only people who manage to show up every single day and actually be on time are the ones who live there.

What you didn’t know, though, is that the path to her building just so happens to be the same one that leads to yours. You’ve barely taken a step when she slips her arm through yours.

“So…” she starts, before you even have time to process the sudden closeness. “The girls he dated before —what were they like? Should I be direct, or take it slow? And do you think—”

“Hey, hey, relax. Breathe,” you grumble, your irritation snapping back in under a second. She takes it as a joke and laughs softly, but she does calm down a little.

She has a pretty laugh —the kind that rings like something straight out of a TV show— and as much as that alone annoys you, you still prefer it to her endless stream of questions.

She keeps firing them at you until you can’t even remember what she started with. You grit your teeth and answer them one by one, reminding yourself over and over that in five minutes you’ll be home, everything will be fine, and she won’t be glued to your side anymore.

Honestly, you can help her a little, right ? A few tips here and there never killed anyone —and it’s not like you're personally invested. Like you keep telling her, you don’t even know Jimin that well, and everything you're saying could be found in under a minute on Google.

Once she’s satisfied with your pathetic answers, she’ll leave you alone, you guess.

“I was thinking of asking him to the movies —what do you think?” she finally asks, looking at you with wide, uncertain eyes.

Internally, you sigh. You're tempted to explain that for a first date, sitting in a dark room for two hours without being able to talk is the worst idea possible —you speak from experience— but you don’t. Because suddenly, the student housing building is just a few meters away, like salvation finally within reach. So you take a deep breath.

“Yeah. A movie sounds perfect.”

Your small smile seems to convince her. She beams back at you, lighting up entirely, and you almost feel bad. She looks like a kid full of dreams.

“Oh my God, thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re saving my life!” she gushes, over and over. For a second, you're afraid she’s going to throw herself at you for a hug —but she doesn’t. She just flashes you one last huge smile before disappearing into the building.

You wait until she’s out of sight before letting out a long breath.

Automatically, you head home, distracting yourself by replying to the memes Hoseok sent you —each one accompanied by about ten completely nonsensical emojis.

Coming home always feels like freedom, but today, after Mia’s forced interrogation, it feels even better. Noelle’s already bribed you over text to spill everything, which you fully intend to do after a shower —but for now, you just want to unwind. You're not particularly antisocial, but you really don’t enjoy being dragged into other people’s drama like this.

The sound of the door slamming behind you, the feeling of finally kicking off your shoes —it’s heaven.

A very short-lived heaven.

Barely ten minutes later, your phone buzzes on the couch.

Mia added you as a friend! the notification chirps cheerfully, like it’s mocking you.

You sigh slowly. Then, after a brief moment of deliberation, you follow her back —if only because Noelle already does.

Deep down, she’s not a bad person. Just… a little too much.

You don’t even have time to put your phone down before a message pops up.

Hello Unnie! Thanks again for ur advice, u have no idea how much it reassured me! I’ll try to ask him tomorrow, fingers crossed! <3 <3 <3

You hate that you smile at it. Hate that you care enough to read it twice. Hate that you're already starting to type a reply. You hate playing hypocrites.

But you don’t even get the chance.

Before your thumb can hit send, someone pounds on the apartment door so hard you jump like an idiot.

You grumble under your breath —can’t even get a moment of peace at home, for God’s sake— before setting your phone down and slipping on your slippers to go open it.

The door swings open, and there he is: messy brown hair, angel face. His eyes darken the second they meet yours, a smile tugging at the corner of his perfectly plump lips.

Slowly, he leans against the doorframe, closing the distance until your faces are just inches apart, your noses almost brushing. You sigh softly —almost on instinct. It’s always the same, and somehow you're still surprised to find him here.

“Your roommate home?” he asks, like he always does, his voice rougher than usual. A little breathless, too.

You shake your head slowly. “He’s at his boyfriend’s. Won’t be back until tomorrow.”

A wicked smile spreads across his lips, his eyes narrowing into crescents. He doesn’t need to hear it twice.

You barely finish speaking before his hand finds your waist, and then Jimin is kissing you —full on.

He exhales against your lips like he’s been waiting for it all day, and the reprimand you had ready dies on the spot. You let yourself go instead.

You let him take the lead as he pulls you closer, his tongue dragging yours into a frantic kiss. Let him take over as he kicks the door shut behind him and lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

He doesn’t need directions. Eyes closed, he crosses the short distance to your room —he’s walked this apartment so many times he could do it blind.

Your phone keeps buzzing on the table where you left it —but then Jimin tosses you onto the bed and buries his lips in your neck, and nothing else matters.

Nothing but his mouth, his warmth against you, the scent of him wrapping around your senses.

“Safeword?” he murmurs against your skin, his hands already finding every spot that makes you shiver.

A smile slips out before you can stop it.

“Same as always.”

“Well, looks like her little situation is going pretty well…”

“Hm?”

You lift your head, frowning. Across from you, Noelle is lazily sucking on a lollipop, her gaze drifting over the courtyard. It almost makes you snap.

Your binder sits open on your lap, filled with notes and scattered exercises she hasn’t even glanced at. You know math isn’t her thing and she’s already accepted she’s going to fail her finals, but she could at least pretend.

You ? You’ve been doing nothing but studying —for days. At first, you thought you had time —but it caught up with you fast, and now you’d settle for just passing. Even barely passing would be fine, honestly.

With all that, you barely get time to breathe —except for the nights you see Jimin.

“What situation?” you mutter, scratching your chin, trying to refocus. Thinking about him definitely won’t help your grades.

“Mia’s situation,” Noelle shoots back, pulling the lollipop from her mouth to point in Mia’s direction.

You follow her gaze easily —Mia and her friends are sitting by the fountain, giggling. And yeah, the redhead looks thrilled.

You hate how fast your mood drops.

“Oh, that? Yeah… it’s going somewhere,” you mumble, dropping your eyes back to your notes, a heavy feeling settling in your stomach. It takes you less than a second to decide you hate it.

Noelle perks up instantly. “Wait, you know something?”

A hint of a smile tugs at your lips, but you have to force it into existence. “Yeah. Though I’d be surprised if I know more than you.”

“Go on.”

You make a face, thinking back to all the late nights she kept you up texting for advice. All the times she caught up with you after class just to gush about the latest update. All the times —almost every time— she made you reassure her for minutes on end that her outfit was fine, that she wouldn’t say something stupid…

Just thinking about it gives you a headache.

You shrug. “She asked him to the movies, then for ice cream. I think he walked her back after class, and… they went to the fair, I think?”

Noelle’s eyes practically pop out of her head. “Wow, seriously?!”

When you nod, she turns back to the group with an impressed whistle. “Damn, that was fast… Honestly, when I heard she wanted to go for it, I didn’t believe it. I mean, I’ve never seen Jimin in a relationship, ever —but hey, good for her. She’ll have to teach me her technique…”

You could just ask me, you almost say —but you bite your tongue in time. You've passed the age for being petty.

“So what do you think?” Noelle asks after a few seconds.

Sighing, you hesitate.

For a split second, you want to admit that your stomach twists every time you picture Mia and Jimin together —so badly it’s hard to swallow.

But you don’t. Partly because that would take way too much explaining. Partly because you're ashamed of it.

So instead, you mumble, “She really seems to like him. Good for her, I guess.”

Noelle nods, still watching the girls, slowly sucking on her candy.

You wait a few seconds, then drop your gaze back to your notes, ignoring the dull ache tightening in your chest.

Later that afternoon, as you leave your last lecture, Noelle suddenly freezes —then shoves you against the wall, out of sight.

You groan, already starting to complain, but one look at her face tells you this isn’t the time —so instead you lean in to see what has her so shaken. You don’t have to search long.

A few steps away, there’s a redhead you know very well now —and a tall, lanky boy with messy brown hair.

She says something you can’t hear, nervously pushing her glasses up her nose. Even from here, you can see her cheeks flushing ridiculously fast.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is the way Jimin smiles back.

A huge, genuine smile that stretches across his entire face —paired with a soft laugh that’s usually just for you.

“I can’t believe it, they’re so cute…” Noelle whispers, completely smitten as something in you breaks.

All you can do is nod, jaw tight as you ignore the punch sinking deep into your stomach.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Are you kidding? Of course not!” Noelle blurts out before you even get the chance to react, pushing her bag aside so Mia can sit with you.

If Hoseok notices the way you tense up, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans closer, his voice soft as he keeps trying to walk you through this stupid math lesson. You keep your eyes firmly fixed on his notebook, on the words he points at, doing your best to ignore how his shoulder brushing yours here and there feels like some kind of protective shield.

Unfortunately, Hoseok’s quiet voice isn’t enough to drown out Noelle and Mia’s chatter.

“Honestly, I could really use some help with chapter six in chemistry. I joined late, and it’s complete gibberish to me!”

Your best friend falters for half a second —but Noelle being Noelle, she recovers instantly. “No one gets it, don’t worry. I was already planning to ask one of the nerds in our group for their revision notes. Namjoon probably won’t agree, but with a bit of luck, Jimin might…”

You can practically hear her face lighting up.

“Now that I think about it, you could even put in a good word for me! You two have gotten pretty close, right…?”

Hoseok’s finger freezes on the page, and you both look up at the same time. Once again, if he notices your leg bouncing under the table, he doesn’t comment.

“Well…” Mia smiles, flushing with obvious pleasure. “Yeah, I guess you could say that…”

Noelle’s grin is so bright it could blind someone. “Come on, spill the tea!”

Mia has the decency to hesitate for a second —though it’s pointless, because the very next moment she’s already rambling.

“He’s so sweet, seriously! Like, perfect! Every conversation with him is super interesting, he’s funny, polite, and thoughtful —oh my God! The other day, I told him I had this super stressful test, and he remembered! He asked me how it went that same evening! And when we went to the fair, it was insane, he practically fought me so I wouldn’t have to pay!”

They both dissolve into excited giggles, completely wound up —Noelle going on about how completely smitten Jimin must be, and Mia marveling at how lucky she is.

They clearly don’t give a damn about the poor students at the nearby tables who are actually trying to study for finals, because soon enough, the two girls are all you can hear —and they don’t even seem bothered by it.

What bothers you is that you can’t breathe —and that you can’t stop listening to Mia at the same time.

You thought you knew how far things had gone between them. 

Clearly, you were wrong.

A warm hand suddenly presses down on your knee, holding it still, and that’s when you realize your leg has started bouncing twice as fast. The look Hoseok gives you is just as warm and steady as his hand —but it’s not enough to calm the storm in your chest or the punches landing in your stomach.

He raises an eyebrow, a silent question in his eyes, and seeing his confusion makes you realize just how bad you feel.

You feel sick.

“Honestly, I owe it all to Y/N. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her advice, really.”

The storm inside you doesn’t settle —and yet you're swept into another the very moment you hear Mia say your name.

The next second, Noelle’s inquisitive gaze is locked onto you, and you feel like you’ve just been shoved under a spotlight. “Really? I had no idea…”

“I didn’t do much,” you mutter quickly, brushing it off with a wave of your hand.

“Are you kidding?” Mia exclaims, almost offended. “If you hadn’t suggested it, it never would’ve crossed my mind to take him to a romantic movie. He loved it!”

Next to you, Hoseok frowns —you can tell he’s holding back a comment. Anyone who knows Jimin knows he loves romance stories. His favorite movie’s The Notebook, after all…

“And that time you told me to go stargazing after the fair! Seriously, genius idea —I still get butterflies just thinking about it!”

Mia keeps going, listing every single suggestion you gave her —fully aware Jimin would love them— and you feel like you're trapped in an endless tunnel.

Like you can’t move, can’t do anything except stare at the exit without ever reaching it.

Hoseok’s hand tightens slightly on your knee. You know he’s trying to catch your eye again, to ask you that silent question —but you can’t.

All you can see is Jimin smiling at Mia, laughing at something she says. All you can hear is her listing all the perfectly romantic things they’ve done together.

And you feel like you're going to throw up.

You need to get out of here. Now.

As if answering your silent plea, your phone vibrates in your pocket. Once. Then twice.

Hoseok says something you don’t catch, joining the conversation, and you take the opportunity to pull your phone out under the table and unlock it.

For a second, you're almost glad he’s not looking at you —because you're ashamed of the way you react to the message on your screen.

Jimin – 8:42 PM I’m alone at the apartment tonight. Jimin – 8:42 PM Wanna come over?

You know, just from the way something bursts to life in your stomach reading those words, that it’s a bad idea.

But you feel awful. Truly awful. Your chest aches with something you can’t shake —and all you want is a distraction.

And so far, Jimin has always been the best one.

“I’ve gotta go,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, making everyone jump as you suddenly stand up. “I just remembered I need to do some shopping. You can keep my notes if you want,” you add distractedly to Noelle, already gathering your things and grabbing your bag.

Confused, Noelle says something —a string of surprised questions— but you barely hear it.

Instead, your eyes find Hoseok’s.

And there it is —that familiar look. The one that says he understands something no one else has even suspected. The one that made him your closest confidant.

But he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Text me when you get there,” he murmurs as you lean down to kiss his cheek, too quiet for the girls to hear. “And call me if you want me to come get you.”

“Deal,” you reply simply before waving at the girls and walking away.

It’s only when you reach the other end of the hall, pushing the door open to slip out, that you hear Noelle’s voice behind you—

“What shopping? I thought you did that yesterday?”

It’s almost ridiculous how you don’t even need to look where you're going to take the right path.

You’ve walked it so many times over the past three years —either because Jimin invited you, or because you asked if you could come over— that you could probably do it with your eyes closed.

Once you get off at the usual bus stop, you just have to walk up the street until you reach the small residence a few meters to the left. Punch in the same code that hasn’t changed in three years —613— then climb the thirteen stone steps, until you land on the soft doormat outside Jimin’s apartment.

And yet tonight, your steps are slower. Almost hesitant.

When you finally reach that familiar doormat, you just stand there like an idiot, not daring to ring the bell.

As if this time were different from the hundreds before.

Back in first year, it used to be almost every night —you at his place, or him at yours— and yet you're just as nervous as if it were the first time.

So much so that when your phone vibrates in your bag, it takes you a moment to gather the courage to pull it out —and once you do, you almost regret it.

Mia – 8:59 PM Noelle seemed a bit worried earlier, I hope everything’s okay. Also, sorry to bother you so late when you looked really tired, but I was wondering if you could help me. I’d like to invite Jimin to a restaurant, but I’m not sure wha—

You sigh louder than necessary, not even bothering to read the rest.

You literally ran away right in front of her —and she’s still bombarding you with questions. If she knew where you are right now…

As if summoned by the thought, the pain in your chest comes rushing back, sharp and sudden, twisting your stomach.

God, if she knew…

You're a terrible person. Listening to her talk about her crush, then coming here… you feel awful. Maybe you should just leave…?

You swallow and shake your head.

You're just trying to be nice to her. You’ve done nothing wrong.

But if talking to her means feeling like this every single time tho, then maybe it’d be better to cut it off now. You're sure she’ll be fine without your advice…

Except when you don’t reply, she just keeps sending messages. Over and over, until you snap.

You – 9:03 PM He loves Paris-Brest pastries.

You bite your tongue, immediately regretting typing the first thing that came to mind just to get her off your back —but as you start writing another message, the door suddenly swings open in front of you .

“I knew I heard something,” Jimin says, a wide grin spreading across his face when he sees you jump back in surprise. Then his eyes linger on your face, softening. “You okay?”

You stand there, frozen, as breathless as if you’d just run a marathon. Slowly, you let your phone drop back into your bag, forcing a small smile.

“Of course. Why?”

He runs a hand through his messy hair, making it even worse —which only makes you want to reach out and fix it. You already know how soft it is.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly, stepping aside to let you in. “You seem… somewhere else.”

Immediately, you're wrapped in the scent of cinnamon and wood smoke that fills his apartment. That scent that’s so him you’d recognize it anywhere.

You sigh softly, setting down your bag and slipping off your shoes with such ease you’d think you lived here. He watches you, arms crossed, his oversized hoodie practically swallowing him whole —something that would look ridiculous on anyone else, but on him just makes him look… cozy.

Suddenly, it’s hard to remember why you felt so nervous before coming in.

“It’s nothing, it’s just…” you shake your head, wrinkling your nose. “Finals. I’m stressed, I guess.”

Something flickers in his eyes as you shrug, playing it off, and he steps closer, smiling. “I’m sure you’ll get the best grades in the whole class.”

You raise an eyebrow at his teasing grin, studying him as he gets so close you have to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. “Yeah, right.”

“No, seriously! I believe it.” He laughs, and you roll your eyes, letting him.

“Funny, because I know a certain pain in the ass who never studies and still gets straight A’s.”

“Are you talking about Namjoon?”

“No. I’m talking about you,” you grumble, pinching his cheek. He bursts out laughing.

“Hey, don’t be like that —it’s not my fault I’m a genius!”

“Oh, please,” you sigh, pretending to step away —but he just laughs harder, hooking his fingers into your belt loops to pull you back toward him.

“Don’t be like that,” he repeats, smiling —and somehow, without you noticing how, he’s suddenly so close your chests brush, you can feel the warmth of his hips against yours —yet you don’t want to pull away.

“You know, even geniuses get stressed about finals…”

“…Is that so…”

“But if you insist…” he murmurs, his voice dropping, something darkening slightly in his gaze. “I could help you relax.”

Slowly, his hands slide from your waist to your hips, tracing every curve so gently it sends shivers blooming under your clothes. He’s so close his breath grazes your skin, waking every nerve —and suddenly, it’s not enough. You want to get rid of these stupid clothes, feel his hands everywhere.

“You’re pretty bold tonight…” you murmur against his lips, eyebrow raised —though you can’t quite hide your smile.

“What can I say? I missed you,” he breathes, right before crushing his lips against yours.

A soft sound escapes you, caught off guard —but you don’t hesitate for a second before matching the urgent, almost desperate rhythm of his kiss.

Trapping your lip between his teeth to gently pull, he takes advantage of the moan that escapes you to slide his tongue in until it meets yours. You follow the movement as he licks, sucks, your tongues dancing while your hands explore. His hands slip under your top to find your ribs and graze your breasts, drawing delicious shivers from you, while yours grip his shoulders before sliding down his back.

Then his hands find your hips, making them sway against his, and suddenly you need more.

"Fuck, babe," he curses, right as the bulge against your abdomen makes you gasp.

"Your room. Now." Hurried, you grab the collar of his sweatshirt and help him take it off, drooling as he pulls it over his head and reveals he’s wearing nothing underneath —nothing but his perfectly sculpted torso and nipples hardened by arousal.

Slowly, you swallow. You want to take one in your mouth, just to see his reaction. As if he can read your thoughts, he smiles, winking at you . "Who’s being bold now, hmm?"

You don’t have time to answer —because then he kisses you again, so deliciously that you even forget what you were talking about. Without breaking the kiss, he gently pushes you toward his bedroom, his hands caressing everywhere they can reach —your ribs, your breasts, your lower back, your butt, as if he’s trying to map the area. His skin is burning against yours, electrifying, and every caress so light that the shivers they create only make you want to snuggle against him, to feel your body fit with his, to have more, more, more.

Your knees hit the edge of his bed, making you fall back with a gasp of surprise, and he leans down to follow you onto the mattress. You stop him, licking your lips.

His mouth opens in a silent question, but your hands have already found the hem of his belt, and you hear him hold his breath, his lip caught between his teeth.

"Take off your top," he sighs as his jeans fall around his ankles. You obey, grabbing your t-shirt and pulling it over your head before tossing it randomly into the room, his gaze almost immediately lost in your bra. As you get on your knees, one hand on his thigh, the sight of his Adam’s apple moving up and down in his throat as he swallows is enough to make your thighs rub against each other.

The air is cold against your skin, but at this moment, you feel like you're burning.

Sliding your fingers under the elastic, you lower his boxers and let it fall with his jeans, salivating at the sight of his member —proudly standing before you, already red and begging for a little attention. Jimin swallows again when you take him gently in one hand, trembling against you as you make a few small up-and-down motions to prepare him.

With your thumb, you spread the drop of pre-cum that escaped before, never leaving his gaze, licking from bottom to top. He groans, already trembling as you’ve barely started, and almost gasps when you finally wrap your lips around the tip, taking him in. You suck, gently.

One hand gripping his thigh to steady yourself, you take him in your mouth a little deeper, again and again every second, until your nose brushes the hair at the base of his belly and you have to relax your jaw so you don’t choke.

Then you start again.

Again and again. Slowly at first, taking your time to hollow your cheeks, to slide your tongue underneath just like you know he loves —then, as his legs tremble and his breathing gets louder, his moans more frequent, you go faster and faster, deeper and deeper.

"Fuck, yes, babe, right there," he hisses, lip caught between his teeth. You can see his abs flex as he slides a hand into your hair, ruining your hairstyle to instead tangle his fingers in the strands and press on your scalp to guide your movements. Pushing on your head, the pace becomes more urgent, clumsier, but better too —his moans get louder, so sincere and breathless that you can feel your panties dampening.

With your eyes closed, you slide a hand between your closed thighs and sway your hips, welcome the heat pooling there —just trying to get a tiny bit of friction, to…

"Shit, shit, shit, stop," he suddenly hisses, pushing you away as gently as he can. You look up at him, thighs trembling and lips shiny with saliva, just fast enough to see him swallow, his gaze dark as he devours you with his eyes.

"What?" you blurt out, surprising yourself at how trembling your breath is.

"On the bed," he simply replies, panting. "I need to be inside," he rushes to add, grabbing you by the waist to pull you up before placing you on the bed.

He joins you there as you bounce on the mattress —his mouth finds your neck, already sucking on a sweet spot under your jaw. While one hand caresses your hip, slides into your back to unhook your bra, the other finds its way between your thighs to your clit, drawing thigh circles on it with his thumb, drawing a surprised moan from you.

"Fuck, Jimin…"

"I know, I know, babe," he sighs against your neck, licking then biting that exact spot between your neck and collarbone that makes you see stars. As he lifts your hips to take off the last few pieces of clothing you have left, he reaches into a drawer with his other hand to pull out a condom. You take it from his hands, opening it with hurried movements to put it on, and he smiles softly when you groan as he slips two fingers inside you, a muffled moan escaping you.

"Jimin," you whisper, your voice trembling. Your walls tighten around him, wanting —no, needing— nothing more than to finally feel him inside you, filling you completely —but he gently cuts you off, placing a series of small kisses along your jawline.

"Need to prep’ you," he whispers, looking just as tense and impatient as you, but still so attentive even in moments like this.

"I don’t care, just go," you urge, and he hesitates just a second before obeying.

You moan together as he enters —so thick you can feel your walls shaking around him. He curses, burying his head in the crook of your neck as an anchor, and you can only cling to his shoulders, one hand lost in his messy hair as he sways his hips, pulling out gently before slamming back in, almost hitting your cervix.

Rapidly, the up-and-down of his hips accelerates, encouraged by yours rising and swaying to meet his movements. He grips your hips harder, so hard it’ll surely leave a bruise, and leans on his knees for more leverage, hitting points that make you scream against his neck. He just speeds up, goes harder, deeper every time, until you see stars, until you grip his bicep so hard your nails will surely leave marks.

He goes further, faster, deeper every time. Slides a hand between your bodies to tease your clit with his thumb, eyes down to where your bodies meet as if he can’t look away, mesmerized. Your walls swallow him harder and tighter each time as the knot tightens in your lower belly, again, again…

Until it snaps.

You scream his name, arching your back as your head falls back, stars before your eyes, and he joins you quickly, stifling his moans in the crook of your neck, holding himself up on his forearms.

Your chests fall and rise again and again, in unison, and only when his breathing has returned to a roughly normal rhythm does he let himself fall back onto the bed beside you, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Slowly, when you prop yourself up on one elbow to look at him, he smiles. "Stay the night?" he asks softly, as if saying it out loud would ruin everything.

You smile gently, just before coming to snuggle against him, your head nestled in his neck —and he welcomes you with open arms, holding you tight against him as if his life depends on it.

When you close your eyes that night, you are enveloped in a scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke, and you can’t help but smile.

Waking up at Jimin’s place has always been a little unsettling for you.

Not because you're scared of what it means, or worried you might mess something up —no, it’s unsettling because of how natural it feels.

Like you belong here —in his arms, in this house that’s far too big for a bunch of broke students. And honestly, it’s almost true. There’s a pair of slippers in your size by the door, ridiculously small next to the guys’ shoes, and part of Jimin’s closet is basically yours now, filled with as many of your clothes as there are hoodies and sweatpants you’ve stolen from him.

It’s not that you don’t like it —quite the opposite. That’s exactly what scares you.

The idea that one day, just like that, all of this could disappear. Just because one of you meets someone else.

“Here.” He hands you a steaming mug of tea before dropping down beside you on the floor, his thigh brushing lightly against yours. With his own cup in hand, he stretches an arm behind you, eyes still heavy with sleep. “Seriously? You’re already back at it?”

It takes you a few seconds to react, too distracted by the warmth between your fingers —raspberry tea, your favorite— and the look on your face when you finally turn to him makes him laugh softly.

“I don’t have a choice,” you mutter, feigning annoyance, which only makes him laugh harder. “Sleeping in is great and all, but I’ve got a semester to pass,” you grumble, sighing as you glance at the dozens of revision sheets spread out in front of you. You're never going to make it in time.

He doesn’t answer, and you jump slightly when, a few seconds later, he rests his head on your shoulder, his half-asleep eyes scanning your notes.

For a moment, you're thrown off by how comfortable it feels to have him this close. His warm breath against your skin, steady and soothing. The way you can trace the clean line of his profile without even trying.

“You know, if you’re really struggling with physio, I can help,” he says after a while, pulling you abruptly out of your thoughts.

“What?” you mumble, then quickly recover. “Oh. Yeah —I mean, if you don’t mind, ‘course.” He smiles, and you shoot a slightly embarrassed glance at the mess of papers in front of you. “I don’t understand a single thing that prof says. It’s a disaster.”

That earns you a quiet laugh before he straightens up —so fast you almost miss the warmth of his head on your shoulder. “It’s easier than it looks. You’ll see.”

If there’s one thing that’s clear, it’s that Jimin should become a teacher someday. Sure, half his students would probably end up hopelessly in love with him —if not all of them— but no one would ever fail.

There’s something about the way he explains things, the way he catches your attention and holds onto it, that’s honestly impressive. He doesn’t show off or talk down to you —he just reframes things, tries every possible angle until something finally clicks.

And even if it’s not instant, by the time the sun rises high enough to flood the living room with light, he’s pulled off a small miracle: you actually understand the chapter. Not perfectly —but enough that you might, maybe, survive finals.

He’s stretching —bare torso, low-slung sweatpants, the whole unfair package on display— when the front door slams open and muffled electro music spills in with it. A giant with messy hair falling over his eyes steps inside, unbothered.

He freezes when he sees you, then arches a brow as he pulls his headphones off. “Oh? The girlfriend’s back?”

“Taehyung,” Jimin clicks his tongue at the exact same moment you groan, “Please, not you…”

Taehyung takes advantage of Jimin getting up to wash your mugs to stick his tongue out at you while kicking off his shoes. You flip him off in return, which he completely ignores.

“Jesus, guys, how many times do I have to tell you to air the place out when you hook up?” he complains loudly, wrinkling his nose. “It stinks in here!”

“Oops!” Jimin calls back from the kitchen. “Sorry, man. You might wanna open your bedroom window, then.”

You nearly choke when you see Taehyung ’s face fall. “You’re kidding me?! I said not in my room!”

He storms upstairs two steps at a time, yelling something unintelligible from up there that sends you both into laughter.

When he comes back down, he’s sulking —and even grumpier. “What’s wrong, your hookup from last night kicked you out once sober she saw your face?” Jimin teases, unable to help himself.

“Shut up. And put a shirt on, asshole —you two look like some childless married couple.”

“You’re just jealous,” you singsong, just to get on his nerves. This time he flips you off without hesitation, which only makes you laugh harder —especially when Jimin comes back and smacks him on the back of the head.

“You guys went to a party last night?” Taehyung suddenly asks.

You blink at the abrupt change of subject, but Jimin doesn’t even react. You’ve always thought Taehyung had serious attention issues, but according to Jimin, he just thinks faster than everyone else. The idea is oddly endearing —and cute— so you don’t dare contradict.

“No, why?”

By the coffee machine, Taehyung shrugs, pulling his phone out. “Saw you on some girl’s story. Looked like a party. Here.”

Jimin takes the phone, biting into a cookie, but glances at the picture for less than a second before shaking his head. “That wasn’t last night. That was the fair.”

And just like that, you freeze.

Something about Jimin and a fair makes your stomach twist almost instantly.

You don’t hear the rest of their conversation —it doesn’t really matter, you're not part of it anymore. But you do follow the movement when Jimin sets the phone down on the coffee table after Taehyung disappears into the kitchen.

Nowou can see the picture clearly —and you're not sure you like it.

Jimin, grinning wider than you’ve ever seen him. Happier than you’ve ever seen him. And next to him, a petite redhead, just as radiant.

Mia.

Your stomach knots tighter and tighter until it feels like something’s about to snap. You can’t look away. They look so happy. So at ease. You’d had trouble picturing them together before —but now…

Now, seeing them like this, Jimin looking better than ever, you start to think maybe… maybe…

“You’d tell me if you wanted to stop, right?”

When you finally look up, it’s just Jimin in the living room —Taehyung’s gone somewhere. Jimin stares at you, completely caught off guard.

“Stop what? Us?” he asks after a second, clearly confused.

You nod, swallowing.

Your chest hurts. Like your lungs don’t have enough room to expand.

“Why would I want to stop?”

It hurts. God, it hurts.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, your voice suddenly empty. You can’t meet his eyes anymore. “I just figure it would suck if one of us started feeling… stuck. In our —whatever this is.”

You swallow hard.

You've never put a name on this. It just happened. You woke up in the same bed after a party, realized it had been the best sex of your lives, and decided to keep going. No rules, no labels. Just… this.

And it used to be enough. Now it terrifies you .

“Well… that’s not how I feel,” he says slowly, almost hesitant —but with that soft smile he uses to reassure people. “But if it ever is, trust me —you’ll be the first to know.”

You force a smile and nod.

It hurts so much.

You open your mouth to say something else —because from the look on his face, he knows something’s wrong and he’s about to ask— but Taehyung’s voice cuts in from upstairs, calling for him.

Jimin hesitates, eyes flicking between you and the stairs before deciding. “He never yells like that. I should check,” he mutters, frowning. “I’ll be right back, just a minute.”

You barely have time to respond before he leans down and kisses you, quick and easy, then disappears up the stairs, leaving you alone —with flushed cheeks and thoughts that won’t line up into anything coherent.

And in the quiet that follows, you realize something. What scares you most… …It’s how natural that felt.

The way he leaned in and kissed you, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

It scares you.

No —it terrifies you.

And God… why does your chest hurt so much?

“I can’t do this,” you declare, your head in your hands.

Sitting across from you on the edge of the fountain, Hoseok looks up sharply, one eyebrow raised. “Chapter thirteen. I don’t understand a single thing,” you explain, sighing.

He thinks for a second, then glances over the overwhelming spread of notes in front of you and wrinkles his nose. “Oh, that one. Yeah, I skipped it. It’s on my sacrifice list.”

“Your what list?”

“Mhm. All the chapters I know I’ll never learn in time, so I ditch them and focus on the rest,” he proudly explains, leaving you confused for a few seconds.

Slowly, you nod. “Right. Makes sense. I should probably do the same… Any chance you could explain the chapter on exponential functions?”

“Sacrificed. That crap is straight out of high school, I don’t even get why we have to go through it again.”

“Chemistry, chapter three?”

“Sacrificed.”

“Four?”

“Sacrificed.”

“Okay… and, uh, let’s say, all of this semester’s physio?”

He grimaces. That’s your answer.

“Sacrificed, got it,” you sigh. “So… is there anything you didn’t sacrifice, or—”

“Of course there is! The very first one, about cell structure, well fun fact—”

“Hoseok! Y/N! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

Mia cuts him off, bursting into the courtyard at full speed —so fast she has to dig her heels into the ground to keep from face-planting into the massive fountain. Hoseok jumps up instinctively, startled, while you throw your arms over your head on reflex —but she manages to stop just a couple steps away from you.

“You are never gonna believe this!” she gasps, hands on her knees, more out of breath than you’ve ever seen her. Hoseok shoots you a quick, concerned glance.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Mia run, and definitely not with a smile like that. Her cheeks are flushed, her glasses are slipping down her nose —but you’ve never seen her look so radiant.

“You won the lottery?” you mumble at the exact same time Hoseok blurts out, “You found a valid excuse to skip finals?”

“No!” she beams. “Jimin agreed to come to the party on Friday with me!”

…What?

You and Hoseok go completely still —him in surprise, you, though you hate to admit it, in something closer to horror.

“The Friday party? Like the ones that happen every week in the campus building?” Hoseok finally asks, upbeat and curious, just before the silence turns awkward.

“Exactly!” Mia practically bounces in place, totally oblivious to the global —your, really— discomfort. “He hesitated at first, but I convinced him! I still can’t believe it!”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hoseok frown, and when your gazes meet, you know he’s thinking the same thing you are. Jimin never goes to those parties. They suck, they get shut down by the police half the time, and his frat already throws the best ones around. So for Mia to convince him…

“Really? How’d you pull that off?” Hoseok asks, still smiling uncertainly as he high-fives her.

“Oh, I just told him one of my friends was bringing Paris-Brest,” she says proudly, then turns to you. “By the way, thank you so much for the tip!”

She looks like she’s about to throw herself at you for a hug, and all you can do is blink at her, just as confused as Hoseok when he turns to you, completely lost.

“Me? Why are you thanking me?” you mumble, pointing at yourself.

“For telling me it’s his favorite,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Behind her, you can practically see the moment Hoseok connects the dots. “I didn’t think it’d work that easily —seriously, thank you!”

She laughs, bright and carefree —and you smile back.

Inside, though, you're frozen solid.

You vaguely remember mentioning it in a message, yeah, but you can’t recall the context —and you don’t see how a cake would be enough to convince him. That’s ridiculous… right?

No. Deep down, he probably already meant to say yes. Yeah. Jimin wanted to go to that party with Mia. Maybe they’ve gotten closer than you thought —maybe he wants them to get even closer, maybe—

“Don’t thank me, I had no idea he liked it that much,” you protest, uneasy. The hollow in your chest has never felt this wide.

“Are you kidding? You guys used to eat it every day when you were kids!”

This time, it’s not just you —Mia freezes too at Hoseok’s words.

Standing behind her, he sees your face fall apart, realizes instantly that he messed up —but she doesn’t need to see him. Your expression is enough.

“What?” she asks softly, all the joy gone from her voice in less than a second.

You're frozen —completely unable to move. As she turns toward him, all you can do is beg Hoseok with your eyes, nausea rising in your throat.

“Uh… we knew each other. Before. The three of us —with Jimin,” he tries, but his voice is way too hesitant, and he gives up with a grimace. “Well —I got there in middle school, but Jimin and Y/N knew each other before that.”

You barely have time to shoot him a death glare before Mia turns back to you —and as soon as her back is to him, he sends you the most apologetic look you’ve ever seen.

Behind her round glasses, Mia’s gaze is sharp. It makes you sigh —but also irritates you, just a little.

“Is that true?” she asks, her voice low. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

You seriously don’t see why she’s reacting like this. Sure, this whole thing brought you a bit closer —but not nearly enough for you to spill your entire life story. The way she’s acting like you owe her something, like you’ve betrayed her —seriously…

“Our moms were friends, so we were too in elementary school. Then Hoseok showed up in middle school, and Jimin met his group of friends around ninth grade, and after that we stopped talking until we ended up at the same college,” you say in one breath, your tone flat. “It doesn’t change anything, you know.”

She seems to think you have a point, because she softens. And it’s true —from her perspective, your past with Jimin changes nothing. If anything, it explains why you know so much about him.

“You could’ve told me,” she mutters one last time, then moves on almost immediately.

She starts asking what she should wear, how she should act around him —and Hoseok, amused and mostly relieved to have dodged a disaster, answers her, matching her excitement until she has to head back to class.

When she’s gone and silence settles back in, you're left alone under Hoseok’s heavy gaze.

“You didn’t tell her,” he says simply, but that’s all it takes for you to know exactly what he means.

You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I didn’t tell anyone. You’re the only one who knows —you and Jimin’s friends, I guess.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Should I feel special?”

“Obviously,” you nod —but he clicks his tongue.

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“I know you.” He sighs, almost pained.

“Yeah, and?”

He hesitates, discouraged by your evasive gaze, but pushes on anyway. “What does Jimin say about it?”

You let out a short laugh —there’s no humor in it. “He doesn’t say anything, what do you think? That I’m gonna go tell him I’ve been helping some girl from physio flirt with him? That if she knows all those details about him, it’s because I can’t keep my mouth shut?”

He doesn’t answer, and you pull your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them, bitterness creeping in. “No. Of course not. Anyway, I don’t think I’m the person he’d want to talk about that with. He never talks about Mia when we’re together,” you add when you catch his surprised look.

Out of all your friends, Hoseok’s the only one who knows about you and Jimin. Being inseparable since middle school probably helped —but truth is, you never planned on telling him until he literally walked in on you two halfway through freshman year. Perks of having roommates.

He gave you hell for it at first, but honestly, it worked out for him too. When you went over to Jimin’s, he could invite Yoongi, his boyfriend. And when Jimin came over, Hoseok would disappear for the night. Convenient.

He’s also covered for you more times than you can count when Noelle questioned your constant absences —but the downside is, between knowing everything and being annoyingly good at reading you without words, he’s gotten very good at dragging things out of you.

“Maybe he doesn’t see things the same way?” he tries gently —but even he must hear how unsure he sounds.

You just shrug, your gaze drifting to the rippling water of the fountain. It takes him a moment before he speaks again —and when he does, his voice is softer.

“And you? What do you think?”

Another shrug. It takes more effort than you’d like to ignore the ache in your chest and fall back on your usual answer.

“I think it’s good for them. Mia really likes him. And when they’re together, Jimin looks… happy.”

“Y/N,” Hoseok clicks his tongue, almost scolding —and you snap.

“What do you want me to think?! I don’t get to think anything about it! I’m not his girlfriend, and we never even said it was just the two of us! If he wants to try something with her, I don’t see what right I’d have to—”

“That’s not true, and you know it. It’s more than just a sex arrangement —Jimin isn’t the kind of guy to—”

“Even if it is, it doesn’t change anything. Mia’s funny, cute, and four times smarter and more interesting than the girl he’s been sleeping with for three years just because it was easier than finding someone else!”

The words spill out all at once —and you don’t know if you feel lighter or worse when you realize something in your chest has shifted.

“Honestly, Hoseok, I… I think I’d understand if he wanted to end things with me to focus on her. I mean, we’re not going anywhere with our—”

“Okay, no. That’s enough.”

He cuts you off, and he looks angrier than you’ve seen him in months.

“I’m not sitting here listening to you talk about yourself like that. I don’t know what he said —or didn’t say— to make you believe this crap, but I swear I’m this close to going to have a word with him.”

He exhales, calming down when he notices you’ve gone quiet. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

You press your lips together, trying to remember. “Last week? When I stayed over, I think.”

His eyebrow lifts, surprised. “And you haven’t talked since?”

In another context, you might’ve smiled. First year, you saw each other like four times a week. Second year, almost every night. Not seeing each other this long is practically a miracle.

“He texted a couple times, I think, but with finals I didn’t really have the headspace for it…”

You don’t need to finish. And with Mia, you didn’t want to deal with it.

He thinks for a long moment, then sighs. “I really think you should go talk to him. Not to tell him you basically helped Mia get close to him,” he adds, rolling his eyes when you open your mouth to interrupt. “Just to clear things up. Tell him this whole situation makes you uncomfortable. That you don’t think you can keep doing this. And most importantly—”

He taps your nose with his finger, his tone turning serious again.

“Make it very clear that my best friend is not a second choice. And if he messes with you, I’ll personally punch his face in —and have Yoongi slash his tires.”

You groan, pushing his hand away —but you can’t quite stop the smile pulling at your lips.

He grins back, that soft, heart-shaped smile of his, so reassuring.

“Thanks, Hobi. I’ll try.”

You didn’t try.

You could have —worse, you know you should have. But it didn’t take long to realize it was too delicate, too hard for you to handle. Just thinking about texting him we need to talk makes you feel sick. And showing up at his place? Not even an option.

You know it makes you weak. You should’ve pulled yourself together sooner —because now it’s too late, and it’s a disaster.

A disaster, because you missed your chance. And now it’s only a matter of time before Mia and Jimin get together.

“Tonight, I’m asking him out! I hope he kisses me —oh my god, do you think he’ll kiss me?!”

Mia and her friends hang around us so much these days you’d think you were all best friends. Maybe from their perspective, you are. From ours… it’s obvious even Noelle is starting to get fed up with the constant chatter, and Hoseok —well, he can tell it’s dragging you down, so he’s not thrilled either.

Then again, Mia only ever talks about one thing —Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. It was cute at first. Now it’s exhausting. Even Noelle, who usually lives for this kind of gossip, has asked them to change the subject more than once —and when the break barely lasted a few minutes before Mia circled back to him, she officially labeled her as an annoying pick-me. A little harsh… but not wrong.

You and Noelle keep telling yourselves that after tonight, it’ll calm down. That maybe they’ll make things official, and Mia won’t need your advice anymore —maybe she’ll finally leave you alone.

You don’t know if that thought comforts you… or destroys you.

“I’m so excited for you!” one of her friends squeals. “Do you know what he’s gonna wear?”

“No, but I know what I’m wearing! I planned my whole outfit to match the bracelet he gave me!”

That one sentence doesn’t faze Noelle in the slightest —but you and Hoseok both snap your heads up at the same time, and suddenly your throat goes dry.

“You’re so lucky your guy gives you cute little gifts like that… mine won’t even buy me flowers for Valentine’s,” another girl grumbles, eyeing the thin braided bracelet on Mia’s wrist. Soft orange and green —colors that suit her perfectly.

Slowly, Hoseok turns toward you —and he doesn’t even need to see your face to go pale.

For your birthday in first year, Jimin gave you a delicate gold bracelet with tiny stones set into it. Probably fake —he was broke then, still is— but it meant everything to you. You wore it every day. And whenever he spotted it in the halls, he’d get this small, knowing smile —like it was a little secret just for the two of you.

You hate how quickly you tug your sleeve down to hide the chain you haven’t taken off in three years. You can’t help it.

“I can’t wait for tonight!” Mia gushes, practically vibrating with excitement —and for once, you agree.

You can’t wait either.

Because maybe after tonight… You’ll finally know where you stand. Maybe you’ll finally be able to move on.

The upside of taking biology as an elective is that almost no one else did —so you spend most of the afternoon without Mia’s running commentary threatening to make you cry.

The downside is that you end up alone in the university halls as night falls, when all you want is to crawl into bed.

The few students in your class seem to feel the same way. The second the professor dismisses you, everyone scatters, heading for the nearest exit that leads back home. You, unfortunately, have to pass through the main hall —and let’s just say it’s not exactly comforting when the corridors are dark and completely empty.

You pull out your phone to distract yourself, replying to the messages Noelle and Hoseok sent during class, walking fast without even needing to look where you're going. You're so focused on your screen, on typing back to yet another one of Noelle’s dumb comments, that you barely notice when you step into the large hall —or that there are people already there.

Their voices reach you, but you don’t bother making sense of them, too tired for that.

A quick glance to avoid walking straight into them is enough to register two guys —and without missing a beat, thumbs still flying across your screen, you shift to the left to pass by.

As you draw level with them, you glance again, ignoring Taehyung ’s raised eyebrow and the unimpressed look he throws your way, focusing instead on—

Wait.

Taehyung ?

Taehyung is never on campus this late. Actually, you were pretty sure Taehyung didn’t go to class at all —so what the hell is he doing here?

And then it clicks.

The party.

Taehyung must’ve agreed to come after Mia invited Jimin…

Shit.

Before you can stop yourself, your pace quickens. You just need to get out of this damn hall —once you're outside, you can run, catch the first bus you see, just get away from here.

But you barely have time to grab the handle of the massive front door before a voice you know all too well calls out behind you —splitting your chest open in the process.

“Y/N! Hey —wait!”

You freeze.

Footsteps echo behind you, quick and urgent, and then Jimin is there beside you, barely out of breath. His dark eyes lock onto yours instantly, his lips parting as he runs a hand through his perpetually messy hair —and the ache in your chest triples.

Like one word from him could break you.

Behind him, the hall is empty. Taehyung’s gone —probably headed straight to the party. Which leaves you alone with Jimin and a gaze that’s far too gentle for how much this hurts.

“Hey,” he says finally, still a little breathless. “You’re leaving?”

He looks genuinely surprised. Almost disappointed.

It takes you a full minute to answer, cornered, confused. “Uh—I… yeah,” you stammer, hating how stupid you sound. Hating how easily he throws you off balance. “I’m already late, I need to get home…”

“Oh… okay,” he murmurs, nodding slowly —and for some reason, he almost looks relieved.

He steps closer.

For a split second, you hesitate —should you move toward him, or step back? In the end, you just stand there like an idiot, frozen in the middle of a mental battle you can’t win.

“I was thinking…” he starts, wetting his lips nervously, and it’s obvious he’s tense —though you don’t understand why. “After the party, do you maybe want to come over? The guys won’t be there. I would’ve asked earlier, but you seemed… busy. So I figured…”

He trails off, the question hanging between you.

But you don’t answer.

You can’t.

He fidgets with his keys, his eyes flicking over your face like he can’t quite settle, waiting.

You grip the strap of your bag tighter, forcing yourself to swallow.

For a second, you almost say yes.

Then you think of Mia. Her excitement. Her smile. The bracelet. The fact that she’s going to ask him out.

And suddenly, all you can think is that you're a horrible person.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, your voice shaking so badly it sounds like you're about to cry.

Jimin goes still, frowning.

“What?”

You swallow again, panic tangling with the pain in your chest. You search for the right words —but they don’t come.

“I have to study for finals,” you say instead, gripping your bag so tightly your knuckles turn white. “B-But you should ask Mia. I’m sure she’d love to.”

This time, he looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“What? What are you even talking about?”

For a second, Hoseok’s advice flashes through your mind —be honest. Advice you should’ve followed a long time ago.

“I—I just mean…” Your voice breaks, hitching as tears well up. “If things get serious between you two, then I… I think it’d be better if we—”

“Y/N, you’re scaring me. What are you talking about?!” he cuts in, panic creeping into his voice. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, his eyes careful, searching —and it breaks you all over again. Even now, he’s trying to be gentle. Why does that hurt so much? “What’s going on with Mia?”

“She’s going to ask you out!” you burst out, not even trying to wipe the tears streaming down your face.

He recoils slightly —but now that you’ve started, the words won’t stop.

“And it’s obvious you’re going to say yes, and I am not going to be the girl who ruins your relationship, so it’s better if we just stop!”

You're practically shouting now, but you can’t hold it in anymore. You’ve been bottling this up for too long.

“I want us to stop.”

The words fall flat between you.

You're out of breath. He just stares at you, unreadable. Your vision is blurred —you don’t see the hurt in his eyes, or the way his lips part and close again as he searches for something to say.

What you do notice is the silence.

And the fact that his hand has left your shoulder.

The hollow in your chest burns —twists— like something’s tearing you apart from the inside. You want to scream. You want to cry.

You feel so ashamed.

Ashamed for reacting like this when it’s obvious Jimin only ever saw this as something convenient. Obvious he doesn’t feel the same.

Your vision swimming, you take a step back, looking away.

He reaches out, saying your name —but you can’t listen. Not when it hurts this much.

You need to leave.

“Babe, please, look at m—”

“I have to go,” you mumble, wiping your nose with the back of your hand as you push the door open.

The cold evening air hits your face, sharp and unforgiving —but you turn your back on him anyway, walking away without trying to stop the tears streaming down your cheeks.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

So much that you don’t even hear him call your name as he runs after you.

“Finally free!”

“How’d it go for you guys?”

“Seriously, who actually studied that garbage chapter?! No one!”

“Anyone up for a drink to celebrate? First round’s on me!”

“They’re idiots,” Noelle snorts, watching students lose their minds outside Building A, where all the exams took place. “I bet not even half of them passed their semester, but hey, let's celebrate!”

“Careful,” you point out, earning a small laugh from her. “You weren’t so confident when you saw the physio exam.”

“Please. Physio’s been on my sacrifice list for ages, so…”

“Oh, great. So Hoseok really did infect everyone.”

“Speaking of, wanna grab a drink?” she cuts in with a bright grin, ignoring your exasperated sigh. “We should celebrate. Our personal hell is finally over!”

“Yeah… until next semester,” you mutter, which earns you an elbow to the ribs.

With another sigh, you let your gaze drift over the groups of smiling students heading off together. Just imagining yourself out there with them gives you a headache.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I need a nap. A long one.”

She gives you the kind of disappointed look only a mom can pull off. “I keep telling you, you handle stress terribly. Hoseok refuses to believe me. When’s the last time you actually slept through the night?”

“No one sleeps properly in college, Noelle.”

That gets you smacked on the back of the head. “Go home. And don’t let me catch you saying that again! Call me when you wake up, we’ll go out!”

You promise, even though you both know you probably won’t, and you split up —her heading toward the nearest bar with the others, you toward your apartment.

It’s empty when you get there —Hoseok’s gone out to celebrate with Yoongi— and the silence is just enough for you to collapse onto the couch and fall asleep within minutes.

When you wake up, you feel like you’ve got a hangover, that heavy, dull kind of exhaustion —and the mess around you doesn’t help. It’s dark outside, leaving the apartment half in shadow, but you can still make out the dozens of revision sheets scattered across the living room, the sticky notes on the fridge, the clothes you left lying around this morning.

Hoseok still isn’t back —considering the late hour, he probably decided to stay the night at Yoongi’s— so you grab your phone from the floor and turn it on.

The simple motion sends a sharp pang through your chest.

Friday night, the first thing you did when you got home was turn it off —because Jimin was flooding you with messages you couldn’t bring yourself to read. You spent the night crying until exhaustion knocked you out. The days after that, you refused to let yourself fall apart like that again —so you kept it off, shoved under the couch so you wouldn’t be tempted, and buried yourself in studying.

Hoseok noticed something was wrong, of course —but after trying and failing to get you to talk, he stopped pushing and just stayed with you. Silent support. Like he was saying, whether you’re ready or not, I’m here.

But Hoseok isn’t here tonight.

And as your screen lights up —9:27 PM in glaring numbers— the notifications from the entire weekend start vibrating in your hand, one after another, relentless, and you don’t have his shoulder to lean on this time.

Slowly, you scroll.

Noelle – 7:07 PM You awake? Noelle – 7:12 PM Okay prolly not, sleep well :D

Team Rocket – 2 days  No_L sent seven videos.  Hoba._. sent eight videos.

Hobi – 8:24 PM Noelle said you went home don’t stay alone if you don’t have to, okkkk? call me if you need Yoongi said you can come over if you want

Automatically, you swipe away Mia’s notifications. You're not that much of a masochist.

But there’s one you can’t bring yourself to delete.

Your thumb hovers over the screen for a long time before you finally give in —already hating the way your eyes sting with tears.

Jimin – 3 days ago – 9:03 PM Y/N please can we talk pls I just want to explain Y/N Y/N pls it’s late don’t be like this I’m worried

Jimin – 3 days ago – 9:32 PM pls just tell me you got home safe

Jimin – 2 days ago – 2:42 PM Hey can we talk? pls

Jimin – yesterday – 5:28 PM I just want to see you and talk pls doesn’t have to be at my place we can grab coffee if you want pls just tell me you’re okay

Every day, dozens of messages like that. All unanswered.

He sounds genuinely worried —and guilt twists in your chest. You shouldn’t have left like that. You shouldn’t have shut him out.

Wiping at the tears threatening to fall, you scroll further —down to the most recent ones. The ones from this morning.

And you have to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from sobbing.

Jimin – 7:35 AM don’t stress too much about exams, okay? you know your stuff, you’ll do great you always do

Your phone slips from your fingers, landing on your thigh.

Why does it hurt so much?

Jimin has always been like this. Always putting others first, never worrying about himself as long as the people around him were okay. It’s just who he is —and how many times did Hoseok and you get on his case for losing himself in the process?

And now all you can think about is him.

Jimin, who has the softest, most reassuring smile I’ve ever seen. Jimin, who knows your favorite tea without asking. Jimin, who sat through hours of a show he hates just because you love it. Jimin, who always welcomed you into his place like you already lived there. Jimin, who dropped everything more times than you can count just to be there when you were having a bad day.

Jimin, who used to light up when you bought him a slice of Paris-Brest after school —so much that you decided it was worth spending your allowance just to see that smile.

Jimin, who makes everything feel so easier just by being there.

It hurts.

God, it hurts.

To realize you’ll never be the girl he falls asleep holding again. The one he smiles at first thing in the morning. The one he curls up with on the couch, rambling nonsense just to make her laugh.

You should get up. Go for a walk. Clear your head.

But you don’t move.

You just want to stay here, curled up on this empty couch, waiting for sleep to take you again. For time to pass. For it to hurt less.

You just—

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

Silence.

You freeze, staring toward the front door, faintly lit by the lamp near the coat rack. Slowly, wiping your cheeks, you frown.

No one ever comes by this late. The building’s mostly older people and students with schedules like yours —after seven, it’s dead quiet.

Hoseok’s at Yoongi’s. Noelle’s probably out partying. You didn’t order anything…

Your hands tremble as you reach for the handle —but you don’t stop. Your throat tightens even before you open the door, like you already know who’s standing on the other side.

And then he’s there.

His eyes lock onto yours instantly —like a shipwrecked man finally finding land.

It must be raining —his hood is up, strands of damp hair clinging to his forehead. But that’s not what hits you.

It’s the way his shoulders seem weighed down. The exhaustion on his face.

Has he been crying?

You’ve never seen him like this. Never without that easy, playful smile he always wears. And seeing him here —soaked, worn down, standing at your door— pulls at something in your chest until it aches.

“Hey,” Jimin rasps, his voice rougher than usual. He clears his throat. “Can I come in?”

You should say no.

You should.

But you can’t.

You're still too weak when it comes to him —too incapable of shutting the door in his face when he looks like that.

So you step aside.

He doesn’t give you time to change your mind before walking in, kicking off his sneakers by the door out of habit. You watch as he stands stiffly in the living room, glancing around, clearly uncomfortable.

“Hoseok’s not here,” you mutter.

He looks back at you, his gaze locking onto yours again, making you swallow hard. He nods. “I know. He’s the one who told me to come.”

You blink. “What?”

“Yeah, I—uh…” He scratches the back of his neck, forcing a small smile. “Ran into him this morning while I was looking for you. He told me to come see you. I didn’t at first, then I went for a walk to clear my head, got lost, and… anyway. I’m here.” He smiles again, barely giving you time to process before adding, “So —how was your day?”

You stare at him, thrown by the sudden shift.

“I… managed,” you say eventually. “With a bit of luck, I’ll pass.”

“Cool,” he replies quickly —too quickly.

“And you?”

“Me? Oh, a disaster. I’ll probably have to retake. It’s fine,” he shrugs.

You frown.

Jimin? Retakes? Impossible.

Sensing your reaction, he keeps up the act for a second before letting it drop, grimacing as he rubs his neck. “I haven’t really slept these past few days. Hard to focus.”

The look he gives you is so heavy with something —guilt? hurt?— that you want to pull him into a hug and tell him he doesn’t have to explain anything.

You don’t.

Instead, you take a breath and cross your arms.

“Jimin, what are you doing here?”

“I told you, Hoseok said I should—”

“Jimin,” you cut in, exhausted. “Just… answer.”

His Adam apple rolls in his throat. “I wanted to see you,” he says, his voice trembling enough to make you freeze. “You weren’t answering, so I thought maybe something happened to you.” He stops, watching you like he’s waiting for something that never comes. Then he looks away with a sigh. “That was stupid. Forget it.”

Before you can react, he straightens and heads for the door. You reach out —but too late, he’s already there.

So this is how it ends. Maybe… maybe it’s for the best.

You tried.

But just as you brace yourself for the sound of the door slamming shut, it doesn’t come.

He’s still there. Standing in front of it, back to you, tense and unmoving.

When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Are you okay, at least?”

Thank God he’s not looking at you —because the tears are back, and suddenly you have to bite on your lip not to let out a cry.

“Mm-hm,” you mumble, your throat tight. “Exams are over. Break’s coming. Everything’s great.”

You don’t sound like yourself.

He hears it too —because he turns, and his eyes are just as shiny from tears as yours are.

“Oh.” His gaze finds yours, pleading —but he doesn’t say it. “Okay. I mean, otherwise I know a guy studying psych, he could maybe—”

“Jimin,” you cut in, forcing a tight smile. “I’m fine.”

“Great. Then maybe we could go out?” He takes a step closer, fidgeting with his sleeve. “There’s this new restaurant downtown, I went with Taehyung, it was—”

His eyes shine with unshed tears.

Your chest aches.

“Jimin. Go home.”

“Are you sure?” His voice is so soft, so hopeful, it hurts. “We could go to a movie, or just walk. There’s birds that sing at night in the park, it’s—”

Until it hurts too much.

And you snap.

“Jimin, just go home, damn it! You shouldn’t be here!”

“Since when shouldn’t I be here?!” he fires back, louder than you —and suddenly he’s right in front of you, so close you could reach out and touch him. “Y/N, I’ve spent almost every night here since freshman year —what the hell suddenly changed?!”

“What changed is that there’s Mia now!” Your voice breaks.

His face freezes —then shifts from desperation to confusion.

“What does Mia have to do with anything? Why do you keep talking about her like—”

“Because if I were your girlfriend, I’d hate knowing you’re spending the night with someone else —so just leave!”

Silence.

You regret yelling instantly —but he doesn’t even seem to register the tone.

“What?”

You sigh, exhausted. “What do you mean, what?”

“Mia’s not my girlfriend,” he says suddenly, frowning. “Wait —is that what you’ve been thinking this whole time?”

Silence.

You freeze.

Did you hear that right?

“Of course she is,” you stammer. “She confessed to you Friday at the—”

“I didn’t see her Friday,” he cuts in. “I left as soon as Taehyung told me you weren’t there. I was too worried.”

“I… I thought you really wanted to go because she said she’d bring Paris-Brest…?”

He blinks. “Wow. Didn’t realize you thought that little of me.”

“It’s not—”

“What the hell would I even go do at one of their stupid parties?” he insists, shaking his head, and your mouth snaps shut. “I only said yes because Mia told me you were bringing some, and we’ve never really gone to parties together, so I just thought… it’d be an excuse. Damn, did you really think…?”

You stay silent, stunned. This has to be a hallucination. There’s no way.

“B-But you’ve gotten so close these past few weeks…”

He shrugs. “Yeah. She’s nice.”

“You went to the movies together?”

“I was gonna see that film anyway. I just didn’t dare ask you,” he mutters, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“And the fair?!”

“Jungkook and Seokjin were going with their girlfriends —it was more of a group thing than anything else,” he explains, starting to look almost panicked under your relentless questions.

“I don’t get it,” you shake your head. “You even gave her a bracelet!”

“What? That?” He stares at you, incredulous, then bursts out laughing, almost relieved. “Y/N, I’ve been making bracelets for people since I was a kid! Taehyung has so many he keeps them all like paper cranes, like if he gets a thousand he’ll earn a wish! I had one on me, she liked it, so I gave it to her. That’s it. Wait —does that have a romantic meaning or something?” he adds suddenly, eyes widening. “‘Cause if it does, someone should warn Taehyung—he’s got a whole box…”

You stand there, unable to process a word, and slowly, a shy smile starts forming on his lips as he refuses to look away from you.

This is impossible. Have you really misunderstood everything… this whole time?

“I… I can’t believe this… I thought you were interested in her! I thought—”

“Y/N, I spent the entire week trying to see you,” he cuts in, gently reaching out to take your fingers in his. “Like every other week before that. Did you really think I didn’t care about you?”

You swallow, then shake your head stubbornly. “What I thought was that you were finally getting close to someone after three years without anything serious, so yeah…”

“Yeah, because I didn’t care about seeing anyone else as long as I had you!”

His words hang in the air between us as he freezes, biting his tongue, his whole face tightening. Slowly, you raise an eyebrow, your heart hammering against your ribs, and he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Okay, hang on, that sounded way better in my head.”

You narrow your eyes, feigning offense. “It better have.”

The truth is, your heart is pounding so hard it’s ringing in your ears.

Softly, he smiles. “What I mean is… yeah, Mia’s adorable, and I liked helping her settle in since she’s new, but…” His fingers find yours again, gripping them like his life depends on it. “She’s not you. She doesn’t have the most addictive smile I’ve ever seen. She doesn’t tease me every time I say something stupid, or look at me the way you do, or… I don’t think about her all the time. I don’t want to see her every single day.”

“…And me? You do?” You whisper, convinced you must be dreaming.

“Y/N, I always want to see you,” he answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, squeezing your hand tighter as if to prove it’s real. “Talk to you. Make you laugh. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to be in the same room as you and not be able to sit next to you because Noelle would start asking questions? To see the way Hoseok looks at me every time, knowing he’s judging me because I’m too scared to make the first move?”

“…Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

He swallows, running a hand through his hair. His palm is warm against yours —so warm, so familiar, you wonder how you managed this long without it. “Because it terrifies me. It’s just… we never put a name on… us. And I swear, I was okay with that… until that asshole started hitting on you last year and I realized I couldn’t stand the idea of you being with someone else.”

“…Dave?” You blink, surprised. Dave had been in your math class, and yeah, he’d tried something —but you’d shut it down fast, and he didn’t insist. You never thought—

“At that point, I really thought… I was going to lose you,” Jimin stumbles a little, searching for words, but this time he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t let you look away. “So when he left, I told myself I’d tell you —or at least ask you out— but I… I was too scared you’d push me away. I thought maybe you wanted it to stay just physical, and I freaked out at the idea that telling you everything would make you leave, so I… I stayed like this instead.”

“But… why? You—”

“Because I’d rather have a little of you, in secret, than nothing at all,” he says, and your heart skips a beat. Your lips part, tears burning your eyes, but he shakes his head. “Even if it’s cowardly. I don’t care.”

His fingers tighten around yours, threading through them, and you can’t speak —too overwhelmed by his confession. You just stare at him, at the hope in his eyes growing when you don’t pull away.

“Y/N… say something, please…”

You clench your jaw, pressing your lips together to keep the tears from spilling.

“You’re an idiot.”

Now it’s his turn to freeze, stunned. “Uh… thanks?” he tries. “But, uh… why?”

“Jimin, I’ve had a crush on you since at least fifth grade. I thought you didn’t want anything more than sex!”

“What ?” He stares at you, completely wrecked. “…Shit,” he finally mutters, and you can’t help but laugh softly.

Seeing you smile seems to bring him back to life. His face lights up, and he lifts his free hand to wipe your tears away with his thumb, while the other slides up your arm to settle at your waist.

His touch is gentle, deliberate —like he’s made it his mission to chase away every single tear that dared fall. You could pull away.

You don’t.

You let him.

Lost in the way his eyes focus on you, your hands find their place on his shoulders naturally.

“So… Mia…” you whisper after a moment, barely daring to break the silence.

“And what if we just stopped talking about Mia, hmm?” he clicks his tongue, mock-scolding. “She was barely even a friend anyway.”

“Was?” you echo softly, eyebrow raised, a smile tugging at your lips.

He frowns —but smiles anyway. “She definitely isn’t anymore, if she made you cry like that.”

“Jimin…”

He doesn’t give you time to finish. His hand cups your cheek, and he leans down, kissing you.

His lips meet yours —soft, full, tasting faintly of the soda he drank earlier— and you sigh into the kiss, into that closeness finally reclaimed. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he pulls you against him, until your body is pressed to his and you're held securely in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs between kisses, desperate, your mouths moving slower, deeper. “I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot, you’re right. I should’ve told you everything when that jerk showed up. Forgive me,” he breathes, leaving your lips to kiss your cheek, then your eyes —like he’s apologizing for every tear.

Softly, you smile, tightening your arms around him. “I should’ve talked to you too. I’m sorry I made you worry.”

Your hand slides into his hair, pulling him back to you. He smiles against your lips.

“It’s forgotten,” he murmurs, his cold fingers tracing your waist. “Next time, just promise you’ll talk to me directly instead of asking impossible questions, hmm?”

You huff, thinking back to your disastrously awkward conversation at his place, but you still tug his hair a little for good measure.

“Deal. And you stop being so nice to everyone. People get the wrong idea.”

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “If you hadn’t helped her, we wouldn’t be here.”

He laughs softly when you stick your tongue out, but you end up smiling too. When his laughter fades, he lingers, eyes lost in yours.

“But I promise. Whatever you want, love.”

He kisses you before you can answer, your lips moving together like a promise finally sealed.

This kiss feels different.

Not rushed, not stolen like before —like you knew your time together was limited. No.

This one is slow. Deep. Certain. This time, you take your time.

His hands slip under your shirt. Yours drag lightly down his back. You both shiver.

This time, he lingers —mapping your skin with kisses, learning you all over again. Your neck, your collarbone, every place that makes you gasp his name like it matters.

When he carries you to the bed, it’s not in a hurry —but with care. Like he has all the time in the world. Clothes fall away slowly. Reverently.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, with such intensity it feels like the first time he’s ever seen you.

That same intensity when he moves between your thighs —kissing, tasting, worshipping like it’s the only thing that exists.

Until you're pulling at his hair, arching so hard it hurts, whispering his name like a plea, like a prayer.

“Jimin, please…”

“Tell me what you want, love,” he murmurs against your skin, soft as if he’s handling something fragile.

“You,” you breathe, burning. “Just you.”

He doesn't answer with words, doesn't need to —your mixed breaths are sufficient proof of your desire, your need for each other. He moves up your body, leaving a trail of kisses behind him that make you shiver. His hands trace furrows of fire on your skin, unstoppable as they graze your breasts before grabbing your hips to place you flat on the mattress, back to him.

He props a pillow under your pelvis, not failing to massage it with his agile fingers, smiling at the hungry look you shoot him over your shoulder and the strangled moan that escapes your breath as he brushes against your entrance.

You spread your thighs, wet and tight and impatient as he rubs against you to moisten himself, making you moan just from the sensation of his hard member against your entrance —then he leans down to kiss your shoulder, one hand on your hip, the other by your head, and enters.

He finds that same fervor as he pushes until he bottoms, until you moan together as your walls clamp down so tight, as he is so hard, as the wet sounds escaping you echo in your ears.

He whispers praises in your ear as he starts again, again and again, until your hips match the slow, deep rhythm of his, until every meeting of your pelvises draws a moan of pleasure from you, makes you pant together. Until you feel only him, until you have no idea where your body ends and his begins.

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin, panting, his forehead resting on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry I let you think otherwise. I love you."

He kisses your shoulder, your neck, again and again until you turn your head and his lips meet yours. He sings those little words like a prayer, repeating them over and over, until his hand slides down your abdomen and slips between your legs. Until the tight circles of his thumb against you make you moan so loud you can't answer, until your walls clamp down so hard around him that his movements become livelier, clumsier, more urgent.

"Jimin," you moan, out of breath, "I-I'm gonna..."

"I know, love," he breathes, just as tense as you. "Do it for me, go on..."

The knot snaps in your stomach, and your head buries itself in the pillows as a cry escapes you, stars dancing before your eyes. You can feel him tense inside you, his head nestling in your neck, and soon he joins you, his lips articulating your name against your skin.

Suddenly, there's only your hurried breaths to break the silence around you, and it's so perfect that you're almost disappointed when he pulls away to fall beside you, breathless. The separation is so quick that you're suddenly chilled, shivering under your thin layer of sweat without his body to warm you.

Perfectly sensing this, he smiles calmly before extending an arm to pull you against him, even grabbing the duvet to cover you both as you snuggle against his chest.

His arms surround you protectively, and he sighs with contentment, nestling his head in your neck and inhaling your shampoo with a smile on his lips.

You watch him, holding him tight against you, your fingers playing with his hair softly.

"Shouldn't you go home?" You whisper after long minutes, another attempt to make sure all of this isn't just a waking dream.

In response, he rubs his nose against your neck, his fingers drawing small circles on your lower back. "I'm home," he murmurs, smiling softly.

In your chest, your heart swells, and beats so loud it seems like it's going to burst out of your ribcage. Jimin must feel it, because he lifts his head to look at you, his eyes softer than ever.

"I love you," I whisper, smiling so hard it hurts your cheeks.

"I love you too."

No_L : Apparently Mia has a new crush – 9:27 I swear it’s true – 9:27 She won’t stop talking about it – 9:27 Lookkkk – 9:27 [Screenshot sent] – 9:28

You squint, trying to make sense of what you're reading even though you're still half asleep.

You let out a small yelp when Jimin leans in to read over your shoulder, his warm breath brushing against your neck.

When you woke up, it took you a few seconds to figure out what the solid thing pressed against your back was, and what that weight resting on your waist could be. It was the scent that gave it away —the thing was his body, and the weight his arms wrapped securely around you. Only Jimin smells like cinnamon and wood smoke like that.

Then the memory of last night came rushing back, and your cheeks burned instantly.

You must’ve woken him up trying to turn around and face him, because since then, he’s refused to let go, holding you tight like you might disappear the second he does.

Not that you're complaining. Those moments are your favorite.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he mumbled when he opened his eyes —only to find yours right in front of him.

“Please, don’t you start too!” You shot back in horror, which only made him burst out laughing.

“Show me, I can’t see,” he whines softly against your shoulder, grabbing your hand to tilt the phone toward him.

“Hey, that’s a private conversation!” you protest, but still lift the screen.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies absentmindedly, already reading as more messages pop up.

You : Honestly, that surprises me – 9:31 No_L : Same – 9:31 No_L : Especially since I don’t get how you can go from Jimin to Taehyung that fast, but okay – 9:31 Hoba._. : Nah, I get it, it’s practical – 9:31 Hoba._. : She can just ask Y/N for flirting advice again – 9:31 No_L : Huh?

Jimin snorts against your shoulder, earning himself an elbow to the ribs that only makes him laugh harder.

“Don't laugh,” you click your tongue, even though you can’t quite hide your smile.

He just chuckles. “I forgot how funny Hoseok is.”

You smile too, then exit the conversation, remembering something Hoseok showed you a few days ago.

“Speaking of, look what he found.”

“Hm?”

Jimin lifts his head, curious —then freezes when he sees what’s on your screen.

“How did he get that?” he asks, stunned, leaning closer.

You smile.

On the screen is a picture of the both of you —eight, maybe nine years old— stuffing your faces with a pastry that looks suspiciously like a Paris-Brest. Hoseok didn’t live in your village back then, but he gets along really well with your mom, so you're guessing she sent it to him.

Honestly, it doesn’t even matter. Just seeing that picture is enough to warm your chest.

“No idea, but I love it,” you smile, looking at your little faces. Jimin looks so young in it, cheeks puffed full of cake, hair just as messy as it is now. “I forgot how cute we were.”

“Mhm, especially you,” Jimin agrees, grabbing your phone to zoom in on your face. “Gosh, you’re so cute —I was seriously blind,” he sighs, sounding almost disappointed in himself.

“Hey! Give that back!” You protest, reaching for your phone, which only earns you a fit of laughter.

“Too cute, too cute, too cute,” he sings, peppering your face with kisses while holding the phone just out of reach.

A second later, his other hand moves to tickle you and you brace yourself to scream —but you both stop when the phone vibrates again in his hand, your heads snapping up at the same time.

Hoseok – 9:37 So You guys know I love you both But I have zero want to walk in on you two going at it right after my breakfast, so I figured I’d ask Should I wait a bit longer, or can I come over ?

Slowly, Jimin turns to you, and you stare at each other like two kids caught red-handed —then burst out laughing, completely unable to stop.

“I love you,” you blurt out once our laughter fades, caught off guard by your own honesty —but unable to hold it back any longer. His laugh warms you, his smile softens everything, and in this moment, you're just… happy.

If he’s surprised, it doesn’t last.

A huge smile spreads across his face, his eyes crinkling into soft crescents that make you melt.

And right then, you think you’ve never been happier.

“I love you too.”

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