MY FLOWER BLOOMS WHERE YOU ARE || JIKOOK

3

Jungkook pov

He finally looks at me, but not before his glacier blue eyes drop down to my fingers wrapped around his bicep.

His mouth opens slightly, and he narrows his eyes at my fingers touching his skin.

"They are planning a coming out party for next week and we both have to be in attendance."

I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure for the second time today that my hearing his failing me.

I shake my head in disbelief, "Are you telling me that your parents are announcing your 'gayness'"

I say holding my free hand up and making air quotes, "And that I have to be a part of it?"

He sighs, "Yes."

"Jiminieee." I groan as we push our way through the door of our English classroom and walk over to the right side of the classroom and take our usual seats in the middle of the row, closest to the window.

It's definitely a myth that all jocks must sit at the back so they can reign and look down on their loyal and trusted subjects of society.

Jimin flops down into his seat as ungracefully as a fish flopping around on the ice.

"I had no other choice, Jungkook," Oooo, he's full first naming me.

"It's the first thing that came to my mind, plus we are always together anyways so I didn't see it as a problem if we lied about our relationship status for a little bit."

I sigh as I open my book to the page number that has been written on the interactive white board at the front of the class.

"Just a little heads up would have been nice that's all. Especially cause there's going to be a fucking party and I would have liked some time to talk to my parents first."

Jimin's whole-body cringes and my stomach drops, "About that..." he says as his face pales.

"My Mom said this morning that she's meeting up with your Mom to discuss the arrangement."

Holy mother fucking shit.

I lunge for my back pocket and pull my cell phone out, my stomach once again dropping to the floor as I notice that I have three missed calls and one unread text message from my mom.

I take a deep breath as I unlock the phone with facial recognition and go straight to my messages.

Mom: Hi sweetie, nothing to worry about but I've just had an interesting conversation with Mrs Park, and we have a few things to speak about later, make sure you come straight home. Love you.

"Fuck." I say as I slide the phone across the table with the message open so Jimin can read it.

"Your mother works fucking fast," I say looking at the time.

"It's not even nine yet and she's already met with my Mom."

Jimin groans as he slides my phone back to me and rests his head on the table in front of him.

I quickly shoot a text to my Mom telling her that I'll be home straight after football practice, before sliding the phone back into my pocket.

"Do you hate me?" Jimin says from my side, his voice slightly muffled because he's still face planting his textbooks.

I lean back in my chair and rest my arm on the back of his, squeezing his neck softly with my fingers as he sits up to face me, his back and neck almost snuggling into my arm that's still resting behind him.

At least, that's what I'm imagining right now.

"I could never hate you," I say, my voice soft and low and he smiles at me, dazzling me with my favourite Colgate, million dollar smile that's all sex appeal and boxer dropping goodness.

"I'm just stumped on how we are going to make this work."

He cocks his head to one side, "What do you mean?" he questions.

I twist my tongue around in my mouth and play with the silver barbell piercing as Jimin's eyes drop to my mouth, his eyes narrowing as he tracks the barbell.

"If we are in a relationship, we are going to have to act like we are actually in a relationship if you get my drift?"

He shrugs, "We are always together anyways, so it's not going to be much different."

Damn, he's definitely not getting my drift.

I shuffle closer to him so my mouth is closer to the side of his face so the rest of the class that is gradually filling up, cannot hear us.

"People in relationships have to show intimate affection towards one another, Jimin. If we are together we are also going to need to partake in that shit or nobody is going to believe us. Teenagers can't keep their hands off their significant other, so we will also need to be the same."

He turns his head and I'm graced with an up close and personal party with his glacial blue eyes, the small dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and full, pouty lips that I'm fighting so hard not to lick, nibble and kiss right now.

You cannot kiss your best friend.

You cannot kiss your best friend in class.

You cannot kiss your straight best friend even though he wants you to be his fake boyfriend.

You cannot kiss Park Jimin.

Park Jimin is off limits.

His pools of blue eyes drop to my mouth and then quickly lock back with my eyes.

"So are you saying we are going to have to kiss and hold hands and shit."

I laugh as I lean back, "And shit."

I really hope Jimin doesn't look under the table right now or he's going to have a shock when he notices the hard, throbbing bulge at the front of my skinny jeans, trying to break free and come in contact with its maker.

Its maker being Jimin of course, as he's the one currently responsible for making me so hard that it's taking all my will power not to rip out my cock in the middle of class and tug one out quickly.

The second bell rings and our teacher walks over in front of the class, then closes the door, before walking back over to in front of the board so she can get started with today's lesson.

Jimin turns to face me again as he slaps his pen he's holding in his hand against his cheek three times.

"I guess you better get ready to be wooed by my exceptional intimacy skills then," he says with a mischievous smile on his face.

Fuck. Me.

Yes please, yes please, yes please, my inner monologue and throbbing cock between my legs sings out to me.

While my head is creaming fuck yes, I know this is going to be a disaster.

A disaster with a capital D and not the kind of D I want to come into contact with.

How the fuck am I supposed to go around pretending to be the fake-boyfriend of my straight best friend when nothing about this whole situation is fake for me because I've been in love and besotted with this guy since I realised what the butterflies in my stomach meant whenever I was around him.

How does one fake being a fake-boyfriend when they want the whole fucking thing to be real?

Asking for a friend.

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