Chapter Text
He is so late.
Between clutching at his two thick textbooks, barely retaining a grip on the shiny laminated covers, and balancing a cup of shitty lukewarm coffee while shrugging his backpack every other step, Jungkook hustles to get to room 301A within the next minute. The clunky bag is like dead weight, sure to pull his spine out of alignment sooner than old age, but that doesn’t matter right now. He doesn’t need to check the time on his cracked iPhone to know that he’s already missed the first five minutes of his calc professor’s office hours.
Although most levelheaded students would beg to differ that five minutes couldn’t be of much worth, Jungkook would scoff in their face because those students have never had Mr. Kim as their calculus 3 professor and lived to tell the tale that five minutes of his weekly office hours does indeed drive the difference between an A and a B on his notorious, always cumulative exams.
The fluorescent lights ahead flicker and Jungkook tries his hardest not to take that as an ill-fated omen. Just a few meters away, and he skids to a stop outside the closed door wherein hangs a cutesy, misleading sign with a smiling dog that barks out a cartoon bubble: “Come in, Math ahead!” He’s made it with only a few splashes of brown that litters the ancient tile below.
After a polite knock that results in an all-too-cheery “Yes?” Jungkook braces himself for the worst. He’s heard horror stories about Mr. Kim’s class. The first week of the semester was fairly uneventful, but Jungkook expected that, as with most courses that start off pretty harmlessly before ramping up with blood-curdling pain. Remembering his age and jumping straight into an upper-level math course out of the veneers of high school has Jungkook nervously smoothening down his tufted hair before entering. Somewhere in his distant consciousness, Jungkook hears trolls cackling in evil glee.
“Ah, Mr. Jeon,” comes a warm voice from the man who’s sitting in front of his computer, facing away from the door – Mr. Kim. Well-dressed with a form-fitting button down that hugs his shoulders nicely, Mr. Kim embodies the type of appeal that has Jungkook understanding why the girls in the lobby below were giggling in between bursts of the professor’s name. Not only known for his headache-inducing tests, Mr. Kim has also garnered quite the reputation for his youth and looks.
But today’s not the day to be ogling his professor, and Jungkook resists the urge to let his concern show at the way Mr. Kim had somehow guessed his name without looking. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry for being late, I was held up –”
“Not to worry,” Mr. Kim turns around with a kind smile that reaches his eyes. Jungkook ponders the possibility that Mr. Kim might be speaking in code for Worry. Worry a lot. Kind of how doctors say things like, “This will only hurt a bit,” before shanking their patient with a hollow needle the size of a toe.
“Take a seat with the others. I trust that this is all who will be joining us today?” After a pause and a murmur in reply from the five others who are squashed tightly on the sofa adjacent to Mr. Kim’s computer, he continues. “I’ll change the sign outdoors then so we’re not further interrupted.”
Jungkook bows slightly out of intimidation and habit and hesitatingly takes his place on the far right end of the sofa, feeling its weight sink even further, carrying six people packed like anchovies. He nods hesitantly at the student who has shuffled over to make room for him, a blonde male obviously a few years older, with thick black, lensless eyeglasses. The student beams a smile in return, dimples so deep that Jungkook feels like he could hole up and hibernate in them.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” the student whispers, “someone’s always late for his first office hours. Just don’t let it happen again.”
“Right,” Jungkook replies, reaching to take off his bag. It plops to the carpeted ground next to him and he tries to will down the edge in his stomach, the earlier burrito he had for lunch threatening to make an untimely reappearance.
Before Mr. Kim returns from the door, Jungkook sneaks a quick look to the others who’ve made the commitment to edge up their calc 3 grade. Including the blonde, everyone else seems to be fairly close to Jungkook in age.
Jungkook thinks he recognizes the one furthest from him – Taehyung? – from his Linguistics class. He waves hello to Hoseok who catches his eye next – a good friend of his roommate, Yugeyom. But he fails to recognize the last two males: one slouched so deep as if to become one with the couch, feline eyes and a scowl etched into his brows; the last, a petite male wearing a Stussy snapback (Jungkook pushes back the thought in his head that he adores boys in snapbacks. And boys in Stussy. Focus, Jungkook, focus.) and a genuine grin that flashes Jungkook’s way when their eyes meet.
His eyes, goddamn, his eyes curve tightly into gorgeous lunettes that make Jungkook wonder if watching all those kitty videos on YouTube until 3 a.m. last night have left him haunted with the embodiment of the aggregate cuteness condensed into one tiny human being.
“So!” Mr. Kim’s voice booms through the tiny, barely-ten-square-feet area of his office. The walls are a deep mahogany, testament to the heritage of the math department, framed with stacks of textbooks that rise to the paneled ceiling. Jungkook would argue that the books could be just as old as the building itself.
“Today’s our first meeting and I’m proud of everyone who has made it a point to come. I know office hours are just extra time out of your busy schedules, but trust me, no one has told me that attending my office hours has been a waste of their time.” Mr. Kim pulls his swiveling seat a foot to the left, in front of a makeshift chalkboard, no bigger than the width of a flat-screen television. “I promise you that these hours will give you that edge that will prove more than helpful when the tests roll along.”
Flashing a wink to the six mute boys on his couch, Mr. Kim animatedly scrawls “Three Dimensional Space” on the board, finishing with a flourishing heart at the end. Jungkook raises his eyebrows; maybe Mr. Kim just really loves math. Judging from everyone else’s similar reactions, plus a snicker from the frowning feline boy, Jungkook suspects that perhaps these office hours won’t be the huge drag that he anticipated.
Two hours later and more than ten face plants against his own textbook in agony, Jungkook feels like being reborn again when he and his five comrades are herded out. Mr. Kim’s bids them adieu with a “shoo, go eat something now.” Apparently, braving the dangers of the 3-D coordinate system together has birthed some sort of bond, because the six of them fall into a comfortable chatter as they make their way out of the old building, standing proud in some sort of regal, team bravado.
Jungkook’s learned all of their names by now, since Mr. Kim had them tag-team to answer bonus questions and come up with rationales for each one in pairs. Namjoon is the one with dimples who’s also the course TA and is thusly required to attend office hours. Jungkook verifies his previous connections with Hoseok and Taehyung. Yoongi is the one with the frown that still lingers even when the rest of his face lights up in a smile of accomplishment. And Jimin is Jimin. Stunning, chattery Jimin.
Everyone’s a bit older than Jungkook, taking to calling him the maknae by the third question about quadric surfaces, but Jungkook still struggles to believe that Jimin is his senior by two years. The wide-eyed male exudes boyish charm, flushed cheeks bunching in glee when he gets a problem correct without extra help. Even the rest of them can’t help cooing over Jimin, Namjoon especially, stuttering out a “cute, he’s so cute,” when Jimin fist pumps and does a little shimmy dance to celebrate. Jungkook had swallowed his urge to join Namjoon in voicing his appreciation for all things cute, but it wasn’t easy. Especially when the swell of Jimin’s ass jiggled just right like that, and then Jimin had reached over three dudes to pat Jungkook on the knee in reassurance after an especially difficult question.
“So,” starts Hoseok, when the six of them reach the main walkway that winds through the entire campus, “office hours was horrible. ‘Murder’ might be overshooting, but my mind is basically dead. Jiminnie and I were planning on grabbing some drinks later tonight, if you all wanna join?”
Drinking, Jungkook’s mind helpfully supplies, drinking would get him a chance at proper socialization. Despite being underage, Jungkook and everyone’s mother is aware that college life is a perfect exception for activities that may be barred none legal.
“Sure,” Namjoon gruffs, “I gotta get some food in me first, though. My brain’s about to burst.”
Yoongi nods in agreement, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Since we’re spending money on drinks, I’m gonna grab some cheap ramen for now.”
“Jungkookie,” Taehyung beams from ear to ear, “we’re at the same dorm, right?” Jungkook nods despite actually not being aware of this, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to catch his hesitance. “Let’s meet up in the lobby to join the hyungs tonight?” Jungkook nods eagerly and doesn’t miss the endearing look Jimin shoots him. His shy persona tries to ignore the tugs of what surely could be the start of a small crush.
And so, after the proper exchange of six phones and subsequent six phone numbers, Jungkook is now six friends closer into finding his place at his university, and six chances on the brink of getting to know this Park Jimin.
“Where you going?” snorts Yugyeom, who’s lounging on Jungkook’s bed like an overgrown cat.
Jungkook just rolls his eyes and goes back to his dilemma. He needs to pick the right tee for tonight, one that’ll show off his shoulders and pecs – he’s been working out a lot before the semester started – but not give off the impression that he’s trying too hard. He fingers the cotton of his white, loose, scoopneck that will highlight his collarbones nicely, and compares it to a tighter fitting black v-neck that will give him a hint of mystery.
“Oh, it’s a date,” Yugyeom continues, and Jungkook can practically hear the smirk in dormmate’s words as he holds out the drawling vowels at the end.
“Fuck off, Yug. It’s not a date,” he replies, before catching himself and swirling around with the two shirts in hand. “But first, tell me which one?”
After an exaggerated eye-roll, Yugyeom points to the white one, saying, “You’ll look even more like a douche in black.”
“Thanks bud,” Jungkook remarks, before tugging off his shirt to change. “And get off my bed, for fuck’s sake you smell horrible.”
Another snort. “Nah, I think I’m good here. So if it’s not a date, wanna bring me wherever you’re going tonight?”
Jungkook sighs, he’s only known Yugyeom for the two weeks they’ve been dorming together, but the brotherly love already runs deep. So deep, considering their hook up two nights after moving in, messy and drunk, that immediately resulted in mutual regret the morning after – they agreed to take that mistake to the grave.
Despite how much thrill Jungkook gets from giving Yug bags of shit, he also kind of cares about his social life, too. “Grabbing drinks with my calc classmates. You sure you wanna hang around a bunch of nerds?”
“Drinks?” Yugyeom’s voice gives away too much excitement. “Of course I’m down for alcohol, who cares with whom?”
Just as Jungkook shucks on a clean(ish) pair of dark denim, he replies, “Well, I mean, they’re not actually nerds, they’re pretty chill. Leaving in five, if you’re gonna go get ready.”
Those words do the trick and Yugyeom scampers off to his bedroom at a moment’s notice, clapping like a seal. Sightly amused, Jungkook turns his attention back to the mirror. Now, to tackle the eyeliner.
Humming and tugging down his lower eyelid to get the kohl started, Jungkook briefly entertains the thought of how Jimin will act when they meet up later. Jungkook’s gaydar isn’t exceptionally on point, but he’s had pretty decent luck since graduating high school and exploring the partying scene over the past summer – able to pick out some surefire hints from pretty boys who’ve shown interest in him after Jungkook grew out of his awkward teenage phase of stumbling limbs and stuttering words. He grimaces at the hazy memory of Yugyeom’s bedroom eyes. Bleh.
In other words, Jimin seems to be broadcasting smooth signals of “yes” and Jungkook can’t wait to follow up.
Somewhere in the covers of his bedspread, messy and undone as per usual, there comes the tell-tale buzz of a text. Not wanting to miss one of his newfound friends’ messages, Jungkook scurries over to swipe right.
Jimin.
He catches the giggle that fizzes up, then reprimands himself for being weak already. That’s how you get hurt, he remembers.
Jiminnie hyung (°◡°):
jungkoooookie, when are u coming?
Well, the good thing is that Jungkook doesn’t have to pull more work to get Jimin to feel comfortable around him. That seems to be easy territory, already covered.
Feeling his cheeks heat up at the easy way Jimin has already taken to calling him informally, Jungkook shakes his head out of the brief reverie.
But oh shit, that reminds him, Jungkook needs to let the group know that he’s bringing Yugyeom.
meeting taehyung in a few
oh btw, i’m bringing my dormmate, hope that’s ok!
Jimin replies swiftly, complete with lots of exclamation points.
Jiminnie hyung (°◡°):
ofc!!! see u soon!!!
Another silent moment of bliss and Jungkook’s staring at his phone like a lovesick puppy. Goddammit Jeon, get it together. You’ve got a mission of impressions tonight.
He texts Taehyung next to tell him about meeting in a few minutes, and about Yugyeom, as well, to which the older also replies enthusiastically.
After deeming his eyeliner seduction-worthy, Jungkook hollers over to Yugyeom. “I’m leaving now!”
“Coming!” The voice is followed by a dull thunk and clatter and Jungkook hopes that he hasn’t shattered anything too expensive so soon into their semester. Yugyeom emerges from his room relatively unscathed, looking dapper in a polo (future frat boy, Jungkook predicts) and tight jeans. Even tighter than Jungkook’s, he notes with a momentary frown. Before he lets the feeling of potential threat against winning Jimin’s favor take over their peaceful dynamic, Jungkook tugs them both out and down the hall, patting his jeans to make sure he has his keys.
“So where we meeting them?” Yugyeom asks as he flies down the stairwell banister, earning them an eyeful of scorn from the lobby RA.
“Some izakaya down the road. Good reviews from students, and cheap,” Jungkook answers, looking around for the familiar bowl cut hairdo, “plus they don’t card.” Said bowlcut emerges not long after from the corridor across theirs, flashing a rectangular smile at the duo.
“Hey Jungkookie! And is this must be your roomie, Yugyeom?” The male drapes himself over the two of them with ease and Jungkook wishes he could operate with the same suave effortlessness. If he’s going to get Jimin’s attention, he needs to step up his game. The odds are stacked against his favor, and plus, he doesn’t even know if Jimin is single.
They make their way through the throngs of Friday-night college crowds headed toward the nearby town, flashing neon lights promising a good time and then some for the lucky ones. Taehyung starts rambling on about his sociology course that has him quote-unquote fucked nine ways to China before the exam that’s in two days. Jungkook nudges him in the ribs for being dumb and wasting a night of studying.
“But I couldn’t pass up drinks with my favorite dongsaengs!” Taehyung replies, chirping without a care. Who knows when Jungkook and Yugyeom became Taehyung’s favorites, but he doesn’t press the remark as they enter the restaurant.
The dimly lit ambiance provides young students with a perfect cover up for slinky drinking, one that’s not necessarily needed considering how loose the place’s owners dish out the alcohol. Money buys everything, Jungkook presumes, and they catch sight of Namjoon standing three tables ahead, waving them over with pitcher of beer in hand.
“You guys made it!” Namjoon says, and they all scoot in, Jungkook maneuvering himself on purpose to fit next to Jimin, followed by Yugyeom. Taehyung takes a seat next to Namjoon and slaps Yoongi’s shoulder on the other side in greeting.
“Jungkookie, introduce us to your friend!” Jimin prompts.
“Nah, he’s not important.”
Yugyeom immediately protests with a punch to Jungkook’s shoulder, and introduces himself as the “better roommate.” Jungkook just shrugs halfheartedly, but he makes sure to crack a grin for good measure.
“Where’s Hoseok?” Taehyung asks, reaching to pour himself a glass.
Jungkook bumps shoulders with Jimin, offering a tentative smile, which the older reciprocates, although a thousand times brighter, brilliant. Framed with raven tendrils, Jimin’s radiant features topped with a black cap could be best described as “baby face,” and it takes more ounces of effort than the usual kind for Jungkook to tear his gaze away and pay attention to the brewing conversation. Also, to not actually call him “babyface.”
“Finishing up his stats lab,” answers Yoongi, who is nursing a whiskey rather than the copious amounts of beer that the rest of the guys are having, including Jungkook, who accepts a glass from Namjoon with a bowed head. Before he catches himself midway his meek gesture of habit, Taehyung jumps in for the kill, “Aww, Jungkookie, what a polite little cutie!”
“He sure is,” agrees Jimin, pinching Jungkook’s thigh under the table. Jungkook yelps in surprise and wills away the blush by turning to take a gulp, swatting Taehyung’s hands away.
“Not a cutie, I’m a manly man,” he protests, to which more coos ensue.
“Yep, Jungkookie’s a manly one, for sure,” Yugyeom drawls, “he goes to sleep with Iron Man undies. It’s really intimidating.”
Jungkook would take a moment to knock some sense into Yugyeom, but the fond look on Jimin’s face is enough to appease his annoyance for now. Good impressions, he needs to focus on getting Jimin to like him. He’ll get revenge later when Yugyeom’s asleep and vulnerable. He could finally put his razor to use on that left eyebrow Yugyeom spends so much time plucking into shape.
The evening crawls by smoothly and Yoongi orders them a few rounds of appetizers, much to the pleasure of Jungkook’s empty wallet. It strikes him as near incredible how well everyone meshes, considering they’ve all just met each other collectively not more than six hours ago, and under strenuous conditions at that.
Jungkook feels little bits of his old self creep through, the eager sixteen year old who wanted nothing more than a tight circle of friends and someone to love, to hold hands with and lean on for companionship. Now, at eighteen, he’s positive he didn’t know what love meant then, and still doesn’t today, but at least he has the guts to speak up for himself and take initiative. High school had been his worst enemy.
That – along with one other reason Jungkook chose to keep stuffed away in the recesses of his compartmentalized mind – was why when senior year let out and summer came along, Jungkook made it his life’s mission to start anew, become the man he’d always wanted to be: envious, desirable. The guy who could get whatever, whoever he wanted.
Three months of incredible freedom and endless faces in and out of his bedroom later, then Jungkook entered college with a new outlook on life.
Tonight, he refuses to let the old Jungkook sneak back to ruin things again.
A tuff of incredibly light brown hair pops up at the head of their table, “Missed me?” Hoseok quips, sliding in next to Taehyung.
“Nope!” Yugyeom retorts and starts up some sort of funky handshake with Hoseok. At the amused glances from the others and one minute of full-body waves, Yugyeom explains, “We’re in the same ballet class.”
Namjoon chuckles, to which Hoseok turns vehemently with a pointed finger, “Don’t start, Namjoon. We just met today but I will not back down from a fight to the death if that means defending ballet.” Yugyeom shares his look of hyperbole. Namjoon raises his hands in defense and the table erupts into laugher at his look of surprise.
“Alright, alright, down boys. Who else dances here?” Jimin asks, eyes shining in obvious interest.
Yugyeom answers for Jungkook, “Kookie here does, but only for fun. I’ve tried to drag him to studio time with me but he’s too busy with programming homework.”
“Oh damn, I feel that. I dance a bit, too. Yugeyomie, shoot me a text when you hit up the studio. If I’m free, I’m so down. I need to brush up on my fouettes.”
Hoseok leans over to give Jimin a high-five but Jungkook feels a bit stunned, overwhelmed with the mental image of Jimin doing flawless whips in the hair.... in tights. He swallows down the way it causes a flare up of heat in his groin, and tries to join along with the chatter.
“Count me in, too,” he pipes up, much to Yugyeom’s look of dubious belief. His roommate doesn’t press it further, but Jungkook’s sure he’s going to get an earful when they get back to their dorm. Jimin just shines with approval and Jungkook wishes he could take a photo of that face, frame it and carry it around as his personal sunshine.
Between the glasses of beer and oily plates of various fried food things, Jungkook sneaks a photo of Jimin when he’s in the middle of animatedly recounting how he ended up choosing their university to attend two years ago. Between the little bursts of “oh!” and “ah!” that filter through his phrases, Jimin effortlessly captures the attention of the whole table. He exudes charisma in an adorable way that’s inconspicuous, undemanding and easy.
Jungkook doesn’t remember the last time he’s been so enraptured by anyone before.
Surely, Jimin must have a significant other. With such an irresistible personality and the face of a literal angel, how could he not be? Jungkook feels the weight of impending disappointment start to sink into his bones. Maybe he should just give up while he’s ahead?
So he distracts himself with conversation. Turns out, aside from the four of them who dance, Taehyung likes to sing in his free time, and Namjoon and Yoongi have underground experience messing around with beats and composing tracks. Jungkook can only laugh in disbelief as the hours tick by and the conversation flows with ease. Funny how a calculus course could bring together people from all different walks of life, bound by a similar interest in art.
“And I was just about to sneak away, when holy shit, Seokjin snatches me by the collar!” Namjoon recounts the tale of The Time He Walked In On Professor Kim in the Bathroom that has the whole table rolling. Jungkook nearly gets whiplash from the way Namjoon uses Mr. Kim’s name so informally, but considering the contents of the story, he can deduce that they’re definitely on a deeper level of acquaintanceship than mere teacher and assistant. Maybe that could explain why Mr. Kim kept his eyes trained on Namjoon for most of their two hour office session. Jungkook had initially written it off to duty in authority, but now, there seems to be a lot more on the table. Or under the table, if the implication rings right.
Jimin can’t seem to hold in his giggles, and Jungkook feels a wave of tingles travel up from his toes to the tips of his fingers just from watching the older boy light up the izakaya with his magnetism. The force of his personality is intoxicating and Jungkook knows the heady feeling that’s slowly soaking through his veins is more than just the alcohol. He deftly tries to deny it, pushes it down, but up rises his gangly sixteen year old self again, trembling at the prospect of a crush that could end horribly in rejection.
Before he can excuse himself to the bathroom for a well-needed breather, a girl trots up at their table, heels clicking on the old wooden floor. She’s wearing an expectant, sickly-sweet smile that’s covered with too many layers of lipstick.
Hoseok notices her first and tries a gamble at luck, “Why hello there, is there something I can help you with?”
The girl rolls her eyes at him and looks straight at Jungkook, who barely registers the pinch of recognition before coiling back to hide behind Yugyeom. It’s a poor attempt. He’s been caught.
“You! Jeon Jungkook!” she starts, eyebrows turning downward in an angry slope. “Why haven’t you returned my calls? My texts? I know it’s still your number because it’s registered on Snapchat under your account!”
Jungkook tries to look around for an escape, but everyone’s staring at him expectantly, including Jimin.
“Uh,” he stutters, “I don’t think I got them?” The rise in pitch is a dead giveaway, but it just goes to prove that despite growing up marvelously over the summer, Jungkook still really doesn’t do well under any kind of pressure.
The girl obviously doesn’t buy it, and slams her well-manicured hand on the table. Hoseok reaches out to save the pitcher of beer, but a few pieces of fried squid go flying through the air. “I’ve heard rumors that you were a total fuckboy, but I didn’t believe you were this bad! And to think you told me such nice things...”
Before Jungkook can process what’s happening, the girl slouches down onto Yugyeom’s lap and twists with fervor. She lashes out, arms reaching for Jungkook, but he manages to deftly climbs over Jimin to the other side of the table in haste. Yoongi has the nastiest scowl plastered on and Taehyung is staring without shame at the debacle unfolding in front of them.
“Why won’t you love me back?!” she wails, alcohol fumes rising out of her mouth with every breath. Yugyeom recoils in distaste but holds her firmly from lunging across the entire table.
“Jungkook,” Namjoon whispers, “I think you should make your exit. Like now.”
“I–I...”
“Don’t worry about the check, or the chick. We got it covered,” Jimin smiles reassuringly, but there’s traces of tension behind his smile and Jungkook knows he’s let everyone down. Especially Jimin. There goes his chance at a good impression.
Jungkook gives one last sad smile before hurrying out of the restaurant in shame, away from the cries of “nooooo” that float above the background chatter.
Tugging his bomber jacket close, Jungkook trudges home as quickly as he can without breaking into a jog. What a disaster, Jungkook has dug his own grave. With a startle, he’s struck with the thought of this occurrence happening more often as the semester goes by. How many one night stands will come to haunt his lame ass? And how many of those will Jimin catch wind of?
He feels his phone buzz a number of times in succession before braving the texts he’s sure to get from the guys.
Namjoon hyung:
we got it, dude. her friends are trying to pull her away without much damageYoongi hyung:
uh... not to be a dick but... are you the kind of dick she says u are?Yug-gross:
well that was WILD
mind if i stick around with the guys a bit longer?
Traitor, Jungkook thinks, and shoves his phone away without replying to any of them. He’ll type out a better apology later when his mind clears out, but then he gets one more buzz. Up pops up the name that has Jungkook’s stomach churning in a weird concoction of fear and trampled-upon infatuation.
Jiminnie hyung (°◡°):
the poor girl, u really broke her <3
is our little jungkookie that much of a player?
If Jungkook wants to fool himself, he would say something along the lines of not caring what Jimin thinks of him. He’s got the smooth skills and tight jeans to reel in any catch he wants.
But if Jungkook wants to be utterly honest, he would hang his head in the lone moonlight and wonder why – out of every discarded pair of pants (and skirts) he’s charmed his way into this past summer – that the disappointed face of Jimin, with pursed lips that should be curved up in a smile, seems to leave the biggest impact on his unsteady heart.
The compulsion to defend himself is still strong, blustering willpower to increase the notches on his bedside post of flings and people he’s gotten to fall for him, but Jungkook just ends up unlocking his dorm and tumbling into bed, not bothering to change and knowing he’ll regret it all tomorrow.
Rolling onto his stomach, Jungkook stuffs his face into the pillow in a halfhearted effort to smother all the shame away. He could just find a party – there’s tons of them going on around the area – crash it, and snag a faceless fuck. He hasn’t done as much as flirt with someone since Yugyeom because school and its priorities have chased away his emerging summer prowess. But, on top of all that, the former shine and glimmerings of empty promises and hungover mornings seem to dull over when he thinks about Jimin.
Porcelain Jimin with a genuine smile that could cure cancer. Kind Jimin who would probably overlook Jungkook’s past without a second glance.
Jungkook has only met this boy seven hours ago and he’s utterly taken by him. And for the first time since he emerged with the scratches and bruises of high school heartbreak, Jungkook has no idea what to do.