My Light, My Jimin

Chapter 31: Teamwork

YOONGI

The microwave is more than ten years old, but it still works.  I'm the only one who hasn't given up on it or called it a piece of garbage because, as long as you have enough patience, it gets the job done.  In my case, it warms the hot chocolate I make for myself.

It's only seven-thirty, but I'm one of the few people left on campus.  Most drove off and avoided the downpour of rain.  Stuck in a classroom sipping a warming drink isn't that bad, though Jin's words echo in my soul every time I glance at the door.  A part of me wishes he would come back, not to get me to confess, but to be there as someone who knows what it's like to hold someone close. 

I sip from my mug, getting back to grading exams, when I glance up at the window overlooking the fountain outside and spot Jimin standing there.  The rain has turned into a drizzle, but his black hair is wet and stuck to his forehead. 

The sorrow in his posture is so potent, and his gaze is somewhere far away, numb to the weathering storm around him. 

I tap on the window and that snaps him out of it.  He whirls around and spots me, eyes wide and scared.  I gesture for him to come inside and I watch him until he's out of frame.  It takes twenty seconds before I hear footsteps approaching.

I hurry to the door and pull it open.  He's already there.

"Can I come inside?" he asks.  He sounds broken, desperate.

"There will never come a time when you cannot."

He nods stiffly and enters.  We're a good distance away from each other, a normal range where a teacher and student should stand, but not for us.  I'm drawn to him like a magnet, and it's clear that he's torn between something because he shifts his weight on one foot to the other.

It's torturous, how pain twists on his face.

"Do you want to talk?" I offer.

He shakes his head, torment in his eyes.  "Not yet."  He gazes up at me.  "I just— I just want the world to be quiet."

"Okay."  I ease over to stand beside him, scanning his wet clothes.  "Would you like assistance?"

He gives me a look.  "You have a spare set for me?"  For a brief moment, he shrinks into himself, and something like sadness and curiosity mix behind his eyes. 

"Not entirely.  I have a cardigan and an office you can use."  I hold up my mug.  "Hot chocolate."

He pauses, then reaches for the handle.  Steam curls into the air between us. 

"Drink it," I say.  "You must be half-frozen.  How long were you out there for?"

He takes a sip— and there's a part of me that wonders if he's doing it only because I ordered him to.  "Not long," he says, taking another long sip while looking out at the window. 

We stand quietly for the longest time, until he says, "The date is wrong."

"I know."  Behind me, the board reads the last time Jimin changed the date, which was last month.  I haven't found the courage in me to erase it.  Not when it's my only reminder that he's still with me.  I do see him in class, but it's not the same, it never will be.  Not when both of us have to act indifferent to each other.

"Will it always be like this?" he asks.

"Like this?"

He glances at me.  "Sneaking around?"

There's a note in his voice that it takes me a moment to identify.  "You're frightened because of me."

He seems surprised by my words, but takes no time to consider.  "No.  I was never afraid of you.  I was afraid of myself."