seven birds, one stone *bts, ot7

01: And, If I Don't?

In any case, being a college student and juggling both the tasks of the student council and being one of the main writers for the school paper doesn't come with ease, and in your case, you had that to worry about along with the consistency of being leader of both of these extracurriculars; the rules that came with the role, and the spontaneity of it all and what you might have to do, especially as president of the junior class student council.

Freshman year was a bust. The bustling and diverse Oak Hill University (OHU) itself was prestigious, yet fairly new, and the concept of college student councils weren't really founded in the history of your school. Sophomore year was your first real introduction into the coalition, and your combined efforts with your spot in the journalism club brought pride to both you and the school itself. That, and a seat as one of the leaders a year later. Fixated in thought, you think over your friendships and relationships.

No romantic encounters for a while, and just a few friends you held close to you. Understanding yourself; your feelings & wants, turned the small thoughts into real feelings of loneliness. Sprouted in your mind came the idea of meeting new people. Getting out, if you wanted to. It wasn't a crushing job, or even mentally taxing, but being both a club leader and a school writer brought some real weight onto your shoulders.

You couldn't help the sigh barreling from your chest.

On that, you perk up to the call of your name from a small voice across the clubroom, and right as you fold in the boxes holding some decoration from the latest school event, a small girl approaches you, a stack of papers clutched in her arms.

"Y/N, Did you hear about the new assignment?"

"Assignment?" Your brows furrowed in confusion, your shoulders dropping. "We just finished something up and our director knows that. What is it?"

She hums, "It's actually from the principal. Apparently, the student council has been tasked with monitoring each of the school clubs for a week to ensure they're utilizing their funds properly. And.. guess who's in charge of overseeing the whole thing?" Hana says, almost with faltering sympathy.

You grab the flier, your heart sinking as you read the assignment details. "Me. But why?"

She asks if you're in the journalism club, and at your confirmation, you're handed a new pamphlet with details explaining a front-page feature on the school paper and a potential open house day with extra funding for a school extracurricular club of your choice.

"Hana, this is bullshit. I'm sorry." You laugh almost incredulously, stressfully running a hand back to smooth your frazzled hair over. You shift your weight to one foot- turning the paper over once, maybe twice, because you just can't believe the words.

"Those smug assholes are in consideration for this prize but not the famously underfunded club that's running the contest?"

Hana shrugs nonchalantly, pressing a paperclip into seven more pamphlets before extending them towards you once more. "The student council is NOT underfunded—"

"I'm talking about the school paper." You interject.

"Their place as leaders in their clubs isn't any less legitimate than yours in the student council." Hana now shakes the papers she extends to you, looking you in the eyes. "I think it'll be good, you know?"

"You know what I think? I think this is some sort of punishment," you sigh, taking her papers. "Is this for them?"

"Yes. If you see them today, give them one of the papers with their name on it. I heard something fun was in the works for each club, so relax."

"Yeah. Right." Your expression flattens.

By 5 PM, the weakening sun did seem to peek its way through the clouds in the sky, on overcast Mondays like these the late afternoon usually overstayed its welcome; and so did you, after classes had ended for the day you continued to make your rounds on campus, and finally the task of handing out the 7 or so fliers catches up to you.

Standing in a hallway outside one of your lecture halls, the sun stretches itself into the building, bouncing off of the wall and warming the gray carpeted floor you stood on. You stare into the window on the wall opposite and admire the sight; hues of purple and yellow sprawled across the atmosphere with blots of the white-gray contrast in the cloudy overcast.

Somberly shifting forwards in interest to lean on the wide window sill, you didn't see the tall, brooding figure hurtling towards your left side at a light jogging speed.

With a sudden collision with his solid body, you stumble to the right, losing your footing for a second. Shock and surprise ripple through you, your hands dropping the grip they had on the fliers and pamphlets.

Jungkook, full bleached hair cascading down his face with black strands growing from the scalp, peered at you with curious and lively eyes. As might be expected, the young man sported a black and white tracksuit, the sleeves of the jacket messily dropping off of his shoulders to reveal a bit of pale skin from the windows of his white sleeveless tee.

His stature was towering, his form and figure broad but his aura and atmosphere about him warm and vigorous.

"Sorry," He immediately apologizes, reaching out for your shoulder with a stabilizing grip. "I wasn't paying attention– I mean, I was just on my phone. I don't know. Again, so sorry."

"It's alright," You mumble, still frazzled from the hit. You slowly bend down to pick up your fallen papers, noticing him doing the same out of courtesy.

"Hey, you must be Y/N." He grins sheepishly, his voice soft, low, and layered. "I'm Jungkook." He says.

The two of you stand up together, closer than what's necessary for conversation, and upon your notice, you backup a step or two.

"Well, okay," You mutter, "Yes Jungkook, I know who you are. Sorry for telling you so soon before it happens, but I'm gonna be visiting your club, for observation. It's my very sudden and apparent obligation to do so, so..."

Jungkook's eyes widened and then fluttered from your face to your hands, and he took the paper you wordlessly gave him without hesitation. He quickly scans the entire flier, his brain barely registering the words before you see his face brightening. He almost laughs.

"That's funny, I was actually on my way there to see you guys." He cutely brings a hand up to his mouth to stifle his giggle.

"Oh?" You tilt your head.

"Yeah, and then I was gonna talk to the guys, you know. About this, too."

"Okay, tell your guys that all seven of you will host me in your clubs for observation, after school." You hand him more pamphlets and his smile only stretches. "I'll be coming around on the specified date."

"Wow, okay." He smiles, with sunny genuineness. "Right– I'm with Taekwondo, so I'll get you your own Dobok. We members don't like sharing ours."

"Uh-" Your expression meshes between mild confusion and surprise. "I won't need that, I'm just–"

"So, Friday, right? I'll see you in the gym then, Y/N!" He cheerily holds his fist up, the sleeves of his tracksuit jacket covering up his hand.

Jungkook then takes his leave, papers in hand, leaving you alone about as abruptly as he came. Still jumbled beyond words, you watch him walk off, and then set off into another light jog.

You look down and fix your disheveled clothes, not quite sure what to make of the entire interaction.

You could still smell his cologne in the air as you saunter on, and his last words linger in your mind when you're putting the keys into the keyhole of your dorm room.