ᴄʜᴀsɪɴɢ ʀᴀɪɴʙᴏᴡ

26. Lean musculature of a dancer

I Was Never There The Weeknd feat. Gesaffelstein

Jungkook

Three weeks.

Twenty days.

Five hundred and four hours of no Jimin.

Finally, finally, I was back and I wished that I had reinforcements. If pink-haired Jimin had my stomach twisting in knots, the orange hair was going to cause me an aneurysm. Blood rushed so fast that every nerve in my body was mirroring the heart's loud pumping as I spotted him in the exact same spot I did on the first day of the first semester.

I've heard about Jimin's dancing and vouched for his leaner sculpted dancer's musculature body. Delicate in his case didn't mean fragile. Polymers are also delicate, but when woven and molded, they form bulletproof glass. Jimin was like that. Agile, strong, and so, so elegant.

Taehyung was the popular one, I was good at sports, but Jimin could easily throw us both from our places if he wanted to. He played good football even when he was extra. He was among the top scorers even when I heard he didn't want to be a doctor. He was involved in almost all the extracurricular activities. He packed that kind of caliber.

He was laughing out loud over something. Thankfully, I've put a dent in the steel walls around him to let myself into the life he's created for himself and his dear ones. "Hi, Hyung!" I bellowed and two heads turned to me as I walked around the group.

Taehyung Hyung looked at me, moved forward, and offered his hand. I nodded at both of them while taking his hand for a shake. "How were the holidays, Jungkook?" He asked.

"Hey, Jungkook," Jimin answered at the same time.

After Jimin left university, I stayed behind for two more days, planning, sleeping, and drinking. On the third day, I was ready to go hit Barcelona. I flew there and stayed for two weeks. I didn't intentionally take the international roaming and spent my days hitchhiking around the city, adapting to the new culture, and healing from the silent and lethal Jimin wounds.

As the last week of the vacation started, I flew to Busan to visit my parents. All the while, my number wasn't working, but to my despair, neither was Jimin's. I wanted to hit him up, meet, and talk, but I realized he must've been using his local number, which I obviously didn't have.

When I landed in Hamburg, my network came back to life and I saw Taehyung Hyung's texts. Lots of them. The reinforcements I'd given myself about remaining buoyant about the Jimin situation coagulated into a messy coil and darkness formed a hood above my head again at the realization that I wasn't relevant enough for him to check on me even once during the three weeks. Especially after we spent the last two days at the university alone. I thought we really bonded. Guess I thought wrong.

"I was in Barcelona."

"Damn!" Jimin laughed, looking at Taehyung with secrecy as though they were sharing an inside joke.

"Damn indeed," Taehyung Hyung rubbed his tongue over his lips and looked at me with vibrancy as if he was going to explode the sunlight out of him.

"Why is Barcelona of importance?" I asked. "By the way, I am angry at you two." Taehyung Hyung squinted at me with amusement on his lips, but Jimin remained impassive, aside from a little curiosity in his eyes with a faint smile lingering on his lips.