My Light, My Jimin

Chapter 4: Homework

JIMIN

"But you said this was where you wanted to meet." I hate how desperate I sound, but I want to get the point across to Taehyung. I drove out to the park and the host is a no-show. Obviously I've earned the right to milk it in.

The faint sound of bed sheets rustle in the background. "I'm so sorry, Jiminie. I'll try to make it up to you tomorrow, okay?"

I chew on my bottom lip, the flesh growing worried. Taehyung isn't the type of friend to drop everything for the chance of sex, but maybe he is, and I've been living with the past for longer than I realized. I'm not sure how to convince myself to let go.

"You said we needed to hang out more as a group. You made that clear and now. . ." I take a breath. "Fuck this."

"Jimin? Wait a sec-"

Click.

My fingers squeeze tighter around my phone. I should have known he wouldn't make time for me, his so-called best friend. I wonder when it was that the shift happened. Whether it was me and my insistent way to make everything as it was with little changes or if it was he who found someone willing to take him out to fancy dates and drive him on a motorcycle all over the city.

I swallow the irritation and look up at the sky. It's just past three and the sun has nestled in a nice spot above the tree lines, reminding me of warmer and better days. I should enjoy it, but it makes me restless. I want to be somewhere else, far away from everyone. A place where no one can back out on me.

I walk to a grassy slope and sit alone. There's no point in going back to campus even with it being less than twenty feet away, and I'm too tired for walking back to the dorms, so I pull out my notebook and my geometry homework. The problems don't come to me as easily as they did in class, fumbling in my head like uncoordinated dancers.

I dig the heels of my hands against my eyelids. I'm so worked up I'm sweating, and it's only fifty degrees.

You're fine, I think. Just work on this and calm down.

For a moment, I think about calling Hoseok, but think better. He said he was pet-sitting, and I don't want to be dramatic by crying like a child that his friends won't play with him.

Defeated, I shove my geometry homework into my backpack. I'd feel better after a snack from the student center. My walk grants me a cool breeze and the peaceful scenery I had read about in brochures, almost exactly like the colorful pictures I obsessed over when filling out my application. With most classes over, it's just me and a few lingering students from the library.

I commit Hoseok's directions he gave me earlier to memory and find the student center nearly empty. Perfect. The tables have already been wiped down and a long row of bar stools fill up the center along with a sectional sofa, foosball table, and ping-pong table. The blinds are open, allowing the sun rays to roam around too.

I set up my station of stacked textbooks, a granola bar, and a used laptop near one ceiling long window. The view shows the humanities building where Professor Min is probably working. A small part of me wonders what he plans on showing us on Wednesday, if he plans ahead well in advance or in five minutes.

When I try to focus on my homework again, I'm halfway through the first problem when I hear the swooshing sound of the automatic doors opening. Shoes click against the waxed floors and I glance up.

There he is. Professor Min Yoongi.

He walks through the sun rays, the light hitting his jet black hair and crossing over his pale face. Idly, I wonder what he'd look like in a worn t-shirt or jeans. It seems like that turtleneck restricts some muscle underneath. Maybe that's for a reason, so that freaks like me wouldn't get distracted like I am now.