Thicc • knj

one

The sleeves on my sweatshirt when I bought it felt a lot roomier, and I even thought that it could make the pretty folds on a big sweatshirt worn by a person with smaller arms while I had it on.

Now, as I passed the mirror-windows on the side of the building that I was heading, casually turning my head to look into the image that was the reflection of my side profile, I almost retched. The material clung to my upper arm, making it obvious its largeness compared to the rest of my body, as well as to my forearm.

I scrunched up my face in disgust as I turned to the front of me and continued walking.

My first class for the week was psychology. I hated psychology.

Sighing, I took an aggressive bite out of the bun Jan had urged me to carry this in the mornings, savoring the pleasurable feeling I got from the buttercream stuffed inside melting on my tongue with the minimum amount of physical reaction.

I speed-walked to the doors of the room I was supposed to be in five minutes ago, my books tight in my arms. There was no way I was gonna lose my grip and be clumsy as well as look humiliating.

I heaved out a breath when I got into the room, the professor still not at his usual spot, and walked down quickly to get a spot to sit. I decided to sit at the back, and as I did, I took a second to pull myself together, and then gathered my pencil case and notebook for this class. I was determined to do well from this semester on. But then again, I said that every semester.

I pulled my glasses on, and got my hands prepared for note taking.

The kids in this class were mostly the same as last semester. Psychology was only really fun for the people who wanted to pursue something in that part of life. I already convinced myself I wasn't quite useful or noticeable enough to ever even make a dent in the world, so I mainly only took this because it could have been useful to me in the future and left a lot of open-ended strings to throw. My other minors didn't peak my interest much, either. Nothing too dramatic or anything that needed a surreal amount of studious behavior, like Medicine or Math.

I made it a point to focys on my classes more than any type of social activities that weren't crucial for a good grade, but unfortunately, my hormones apparently did not die down from high school. One guy stood out to me the most in the crowd of relatively quiet students in both Psychology and Literature.

Kim Namjoon.

His hair was blond this semester.

But it's not like I cared that much, or anything.

I just couldn't stop remembering that one time I walked into the student lounge on the ground floor and saw him with his friends, the biggest smile on his face, his purple hair falling into his eyes as he laughed and called himself a grape. That moment of goofiness from the serious guy in our lectures kept grabbing my attention.
My stupid conscience that was supposed to be looking out for me just refused to keep my feelings away, and now I had feelings for a guy that was totally out of my league and would probably prefer to date a broom over myself any day.

Kim Namjoon had a confident stature, his head high over his broad shoulders and strong arms. He worked out, no doubt, something I just wasn't confident enough to do at the gym. His thighs and calves were deliciously juicy, and they carried him around to places I wish I wasn't. It was like there was no way for me to avoid Kim Namjoon.

The first time we met was when he'd just entered the school, moving into his dorm. He had light brown hair at the time.

I'd opened the door to get something for the vending machine for dinner, when I almost walked straight into him, a box held in his arms as he walked past my door to go into what I assumed was his own dorm room. I gasped as I missed him, just barely, stopping not even half an inch away from his body, right when he halted, a quieter gasp coming from him. We turned our heads to each other, me upward, him down and to the side, at the same times too.

"Hi, sorry, I - "

"Hi, no, I didn't - "

We paused at the same times to let each other talk, too. And then he exhaled, and smiled. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have been walking so close to your door. These hallways are narrower than I thought."

"No, it's my fault, I opened the door and walked straight out without looking left and right."

He laughed, his head thrown back, two singles 'hah's leaving his plump lips. "Don't worry about it. It's not a road, you shouldn't have to do that." he looked at my door. "Oh, looks like we're gonna be neighbors," he added with a pursed smile.

"A-ah, right," I said awkwardly, rubbing my neck.

"Well, I'll see you around, then," he said. With one last smile, he walked into his own dorm, the door shutting lightly behind him.
Three days later, I come to find out Kim Namjoon, the hot tall neighbor I initially didn't feel anything for, was in both my Literature and Psychology classes, one morning lecture for sociology and one morning lecture for Literature. And two months after that, I realize he's cute, and I kinda like him. God dammit, conscience.

I still try to look as good as I can when I know I'm gonna see him. I get anxiety even walking out my door with fear that he's gonna see me in my pajamas that undoubtedly make me look pregnant.

He's sitting at the fifth row from the front now, his small head resting on his large hand. He's sitting next to a guy, a short guy with black hair. I knew him as my senior, a Korean American and a music major that was in the same class as my close friend. Apparently he had 'golden fingers'. 

I couldn't help but let my eyes drift to Namjoon every two seconds, even when the professor arrived. Tearing my eyes away, I sighed, and tried to focus on what was in front of me. The same cycle repeated for the entire two and a half hours.