My Light, My Jimin

Chapter 20: The Library

JIMIN

I wake up, and swoon from last night.  Sunlight beams through the slits of the window, the warm autumn air filling me with ease.  To my side, my laptop screen is black and still open to face me.  Butterflies flutter around my stomach.

How long was he playing for?  Did I fall asleep while he was in the middle of a song?  Even while that is embarrassing, I can't help the feeling that takes over; the giddiness that he watched me as I slept.  I would never have imagined I would sleep in front of my professor before.  People here seem afraid of him.  Based on what I've witnessed, I've seen the truth.  Underneath his cold exterior, he's caring.  So deeply gentle and unexpectedly patient.  I have yet to see him show that side with anyone else.

I reach for my phone on the desk and notice a new message from "Yoonji".  I blush so hard my cheeks ache.  Quickly, I open up the text.

YOONJI: Charge your phone before leaving.  Goodnight.

It's short, but fills me with adoration nonetheless.  I close out the text and start my day with a spring in my step.  Today I bundle up in layers of hoodies and sweaters.  With September coming to an end, it makes no exception for the warmer temperatures.  And soon enough, I have to permanently hold my hands in my pockets when I enter the university campus.

I expect to find Hoseok studying at the library, but it's just a couple of stray students along with myself.  I can't blame them, it's too early and too cold to be anywhere but underneath warm sheets.  Still, if I want to see Professor Min, I have to sacrifice my time.

Heading inside, I walk upstairs, choosing a table in the corner and propping my bag in the chair beside me before digging out my notebook and pen, soaking in the peace and quiet and trying to enjoy these moments that will eventually be lost when spring comes again.

My vision is taken over as I imagine Professor Min in the warmer months, him with the flowers and playing guitar in a grassy field as I listen for hours.  The sound of his guitar fills my memory, the soft sound that encapsules his heart, his soul; something he shared with me.  And then my pen starts to draw what I see.

I've never called myself a professional artist, I'm far from it, but I follow my instincts, remembering and recalling every detail of his face.  His long hair.  His soft jawline.  His intense eyes.  Everything that is him, everything that I see, is drawn in my notebook.

I'm not sure how much time passes, but when I come up for air, his eyes stare back at me.  They're not the most proportioned, but they capture the darkness in which I recreated from memory.  In black and white, he looks both sad and peaceful.

It's a feeling I've associated with him.  A mixture of being at peace with himself, yet carrying a melancholic weight with him.  It's something beautiful.  Bittersweet.

And I want to hold him.

"Lovely drawing," a voice says behind me.  I jump in my seat and swipe the notebook to my chest.

Standing behind me is Mrs. Sumin.  "I was wondering when you were going to show up.  You take longer than kimchi."  She smirks and adjusts her round glasses.  "So, does the afternoon work best for you, or would it be easier in the mornings?"

I have no idea what she's asking and I have no idea if she saw who I was drawing.  Sliding the notebook under the desk while maintaining eye contact, I ask, "What do you mean?"

"Aish," she huffs.  "I'm talking about your working schedule.  Did you want to work in the morning or the afternoon?"

"Wait, I got the job?"  I look at her, trying to gauge whether her sarcasm is a normal thing or if it's something I should be worried about, but her face is a shield, not bearing a single emotion but slight annoyance when I don't get to her level fast enough.