My Light, My Jimin

Chapter 19: Dorms

YOONGI

"Can you hear me?" I ask.

"I think you're on mute," Jimin says through my laptop screen. I watch his eyes scan over something on his screen. We're trying to make an online meeting work for the two of us since it's after ten o' clock, and I wanted to surprise him. It isn't the best quality, with my Wi-Fi at the apartment being frenzied, but I make it work. "Try hitting the microphone picture."

I do as he says and click. "Is this better?"

"Perfect!" He smiles. On camera, I see him sitting at a desk with the background of what I presume to be his dorm. He's changed from earlier into sleep clothes, gray sweatpants and a white long sleeve shirt that look soft even from my end of the camera. Meanwhile, I'm still in my dress shirt.

As soon as the faculty meeting ended, I drove like a mad man back to my apartment to hook up an online meeting without making it professional. Since I've only done this with students working online, it wasn't hard to switch the settings. And speaking in technical terms, Jimin is a student, so this works out for both of us.

"You know," he says, gently tugging at his earlobe. "Today went differently than I expected."

I frown. "What do you mean by that?"

A reminiscent look passes over his face. "I thought that you would push me away. After the phone call, I wasn't sure what your intentions were, and I was stressed whether or not you would tell me to fuck off or if you would break it to me gently." Then his hand flies to his mouth. "Sorry. I shouldn't cuss."

I smirk. "It's just me. Say what you want."

Jimin pauses for just a second, his eyes growing slightly wide at my words. He's not used to this, and neither am I. We are in uncharted territory together, not quite sure where to draw the line. But if we are being honest, we already ran through a line that is never crossed.

"It was difficult teaching with you there," I say. "Every time I looked over, you would be sitting there at your desk, watching me." I pause, struggling to say any more when he's looking at me like that; with fascination in his eyes and a blush on his cheeks. It's endearing. It's inappropriate. It's what will make me cave.

"This is serious."

He straightens. "I know."

"We're breaking a lot of rules."

"I know," he says with a tone that makes me think he's annoyed with me. I don't provoke him further, choosing to stay quiet.

He instantly shrinks. "I'm sorry. I just. . . I've already been through this conversation with myself. I've spent hours trying to figure out exactly how serious this is and why I'm so attracted to you." His expression breaks and he huffs. "It's so unreal."

A part of me breaks seeing him like this, so distraught and caught up in his own fears. I want to be there with him right now, holding him and brushing his hair, whispering that everything will be okay even when I, myself, don't know the answer.

"Well, it's ultimately your choice," I say through the camera. "We can stop here and go back to the way things were, or we can continue. No matter what you choose to do, I will not coerce you into doing anything you are uncomfortable with."

He turns away from the screen, crosses his arms over his chest. There's a silence now that's interrupted by background noises of the dorm. I hear doors shut and voices outside in the hallway.

"I like being with you," he finally says. I wait for him to say more, and I watch him struggle to form words. "I like what we do." He gestures at the camera in front of him. "This."