My Light, My Jimin

Chapter 21: Books

YOONGI

I'm finished with my lecture before time is up, a habit I've grown accustomed to, and give time to the students for themselves.  They don't complain, in fact, I think they appreciate me more than anything.  There's still fifteen minutes of class left, so I sit behind my desk and call Jimin's name.

His head snaps up.  He's just as surprised as I am, but I switch back to professor-mode and gesture for him to see me.  His chair scrapes against the floor just as Jungkook's pencil drops from a cramped hand.  For a moment, I see their eyes lock, and I feel his eyes watch the back of Jimin's head as he takes a seat next to me. 

If anyone wonders what he and I are doing, they don't show it.  Around the room, everyone's head is ducked down in concentration.  It's as though they're all in another world and Jimin and I are in another.  He's so close I can smell the hint of coffee and citrus in his hair.

"Is something wrong, professor?"  He says this uneasily, like he's been put on trial and awaiting his execution.  I take my pen and his essay I printed out as my own personal copy.  While he isn't a literary genius, he does write well, even going so far to point out some irony in our last short story we discussed that I had not picked up on in my few years of teaching.  He's talented, and if he applied himself, I wouldn't be surprised to find a book of his on a shelf.

I bring my pen down to the page where the date is written in the corner.  Below the typed numbers is my own handwriting:

Date: Meet here.  6:00 P.M.

My eyes dart to Jimin's reaction.  He flicks his gaze to me, then to the class in front of us.  This, I realize, might have been too reckless of me to ask, especially when he's in a social setting of friends.  But if I were to say the truth, I find no one he can truly call his friend. 

He is embarrassed, which means I failed.  So I tap my pen twice to subtly grab his attention.  "I don't mean to embarrass you," I say, speaking in code, something only he would understand the meaning of.  To the rest, it sounds like I'm critiquing his essay.

He shakes his head.  "I'm not embarrassed."  Then he points to my note and lowers his voice, "I think this will work just fine." 

Shielded by the desk, I reach down and pat his knee gingerly, and I don't look at him.  I'm hoping my touch will signal my thoughts, that I'm relieved to know he accepts my invite, when his hand brushes against mine.  I keep my focus on my papers, so I have no idea whether he realizes what he's doing or not, but when he stands and moves away from me, my hand is suddenly cold.

Then class is over.  I spend the rest of the day in a blur, too caught up in my plan for tonight.  Even still, I work until I spot faculty cars drive off into the night.  The cool autumn breeze finds its way around campus, making me shiver and bundle up in my cardigan, the faint smell of Jimin still lingering.

Before long, the door draws open and I watch him scan the room before fully entering and shutting the door behind him. 

"It's late," Jimin says.  "I don't have a ride to the dorms."

"Leave that to me," I say.  "For now, I wanted to celebrate your accomplishment you told me about this morning.  Your new part-time job."

He says nothing as I take his hand and lead him to the door.  Tension has begun a slow crawl up my spine, but I rest my free hand on the door knob and turn it.  Behind me, Jimin grabs my arm. 

"What are you doing?  We might be seen!" 

I lean close and drop my voice.  "I would be surprised if anyone would approach.  It's well after work hours and I happen to need a few things at the library."