My Light, My Jimin

Chapter 11: Office Hours

YOONGI

I'm in my office picking apart leftover gimbap when I hear a knock at my door. My lunch break is never truly a full break, but me sitting for a second before someone comes in asking for more than I've already offered. It's a constant cycle; one that I should be able to break by now.

Idly, I get up and swing open the door. I don't know who exactly I was expecting, but it wasn't them.

Kim Taehyung stands in the doorway. "Professor," he starts. "Could I speak with you about this upcoming essay in your class?"

I'm completely off balance upon seeing Jimin with him. Somehow, his presence is reassuring, yet not at all. "Oh. Yes, certainly."

Taehyung steps inside, and I take the chance to look back at Jimin. He looks around me, pursing his lips and glaring as Taehyung loops toward my desk.

Jimin doesn't say anything, and he doesn't act like everything's okay between him and Taehyung. If anything, it looks like he's waging a war in his head. This is all so confusing, but I improvise, asking Jimin if he wanted to come inside as well.

He declines, instead leaning against the wall and taking out his phone. My brows shoot to my hairline, but I recover quickly and nod. I shut the door behind me and feel my stomach flip. Somehow, this all feels like a test.

I move behind my desk. It's all I can do to keep a professional appearance. "What can I help you with, Taehyung?"

"Well, I was wondering if I could write my paper through my app I take notes in. I wasn't sure if the file would be supported and wanted to ask you if it would be accepted in that form."

I feel my entire body tensing up. This will lead to nowhere good. I keep thinking of Jimin standing in the hallway, him wearing my cardigan and choosing to stay outside. I want him here, with me, unafraid to enter at the sight of someone that caused him heartache.

I have to swallow to form a word. "That's fine. So long as it gets to me."

"Great. Thank you, sir." He smiles and starts for the door. But foolishly, I cannot let him leave so easily.

"Taehyung," I call, my voice neutral, but low enough where it draws his attention. He stops and waits, surprise at my sudden use of his name paints his face a pale color. It's faint, but I recognize it in the florescent lights.

"Next time you require my assistance, be sure to glance at your syllabus before inviting yourself over," I say. "My office hours are to be respected."

He stiffens. "Yes, sir. It won't happen again."

A smile threatens to cross my face, but I resist the urge, instead choosing to let Taehyung out myself. In truth, I also do this to see if Jimin is still in the hallway. My eyes widen when I notice him sitting on the floor holding his backpack to his chest like a stuffed animal; like a little boy.

"Are you busy?" He asks innocently. "I don't want to intrude if you are."

So he did hear me; that part is clear enough. But I'm still in the dark about what strange tension there is between him and Taehyung. And I don't have an answer for me being curt with Taehyung, whether it had to do with Jimin being outside and affecting my judgmental skills or whether it was my own personal vendetta against someone who made Jimin upset.

Either way, it all comes back to him, to Park Jimin.

Shaking away my thoughts, I step aside. "Not at all."

"Are. . . are you sure?"

"Truly." I reply.

A hesitant look passes over his face, but he stands and moves inside. I shut the door behind us, and we're back to our routine dance of indecision, whether this is a good idea or if I'm scaring him off bit by bit until he ultimately decides to report me for being invasive.