My Light, My Jimin

Chapter 28: Social Studies

JIMIN

It starts raining when we finish.  The windows are dark, all the lights still shut off, and if I listen very carefully, I can hear the base from the DJ back at the Halloween party.

It's just us cuddling in his office, alone in the dark, but I breathe in the calm moment.  All day I worried our plan would cave in, that someone would catch on and we would be caught, but no one has been the wiser.  That's good, but it also leaves room for me to fret about my last conversation with Eomma, which Yoongi still has no idea about.

It's reckless what I've done, bafflingly so.  I could have made up a name just as I did for Yoongi, but chose to bring down an actual teacher who hasn't provoked me in any way.  He's an innocent bystander, and I am the train zooming right for him, off the tracks I should be following.  When I think about this, I involuntarily shudder, and Yoongi notices.

"Are you cold?" He asks, shifting under me so his arms wrap around my shoulders.  "You should've brought a jacket with you."

"That would've defeated the look."

"You would still be beautiful to me," he says, giving me a kiss on my cheekbone.

I hunch my shoulders and look away.  If he catches on that I'm hiding something, it's all downhill from here, and I don't want it to come to an argument between us when we're comfortable right now.  I don't want to ruin anything, so I stay silent.

"This morning faculty discussed student's curfew being changed," he says.  I'm not sure if he's purposefully trying to get a reaction out of me or if he simply wants to change the subject, but he does both effortlessly.  "They want students in before sunset."

His words weigh against me, as does his arms, and I'm suddenly claustrophobic.  I push my way out and stand.  "Do you think anyone suspects something's going on with us?"

He gives me a surprised look.  "Why do you ask?"

When I don't say anything, he swings his legs over and sits upright.  "If this is about the curfew, I'm not worried.  I'll still drive you back."

My first instinct is to apologize.  The moment we had is gone, now replaced with tension from both of us, and one tiny office cannot hold our fears.  I've become someone different in the last few weeks, lying to my closest family and friends, sneaking around campus, all because of my obsession for a professor that treats me like no one ever has.

Swallowing, I say, "Do you think I'm selfish for wanting this?"

He surprises me by standing up abruptly, as if I've asked him the most ridiculous question.  I just stare, waiting for his response.  It's hard wanting closure and comfort from the person I've had to be secretive with.  If we got into a fight, I would have no one to confide in.  I'd lose my piece of sanity.

"No, you're not selfish," he says, his thumb reaching and brushing my bottom lip.  "I chose to kiss you, I chose to bring you to my house, and I'll continue to choose you because I can't imagine a world without you."

He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close.  My heart spikes up, but I resist the urge to press into him, turning my head down.  "This doesn't happen to anyone.  What we have.  You already know how this will end."

He draws away, kneeling so his obsidian eyes are level with mine, dark and so beautiful it makes me lose my breath.

"I know exactly how it's going to end, and I know that if anyone else knew, we would burn."  He cups my jaw and lifts my head, standing up in the darkness with me at his mercy.  "But I feel pretty good about it."