The fact that it was a weekend was highly fortuitous for me--I couldn't sleep well (more like that all) that night. I had switched backpacks with a complete stranger. I had let my hot pink journal slip into the clutches of Mr. Shady-Pants and his equally shady friends. To make it worse, there weren't any identifying items inside Mr. Shady-Pants's backpack, so all I could do was wait for him to contact me first and hope that he was decent enough to leave the secrets I'd written on the pages where they belong--away from anyone else's eyes and ears.

The next morning, Chaeyoung, who had seen how shaken up I was about the loss, came to hang out with me as I waited for Mr. Shady-Pants's call. She told me embarrassing stories about herself to try to make me feel better, but I couldn't focus on them. Chaeyoung had to visit her family that evening and ended up leaving me alone in the late afternoon. Without anything to do, I some music--mostly BTS, to be honest--to calm my nerves caused by the whole situation.

"It's going to be okay," I tried to convince myself at about 7 P.M. "He may look shady and annoying, but he's probably an okay guy. He wouldn't read a girl's journal. It's mostly in English, anyway." I calmed slightly at the thought and was finally able to distract myself with learning the dance to "I Need U" (which I had been obsessed with for the past few days) via YouTube dance tutorials. If I hadn't finished my homework at around noon, I would've been able to feel more productive during the hours when I literally just sat on the couch with my phone clasped tightly in my hands. This is one of those rare times when it would be nice to have more homework. Yet, the only time I have a lot of homework is when I'm busy as heck. Nice work, professors. I hate you all.

Every time I learned 32 counts in the dance, I checked my phone for any new calls or messages from an unknown number. Every time, I would be disappointed. The only messages I received were from Chaeyoung, asking if he had called yet. I was losing the already-miniscule amount of faith I had in him.

---

At 10 P.M., I decided to get some rest. Maybe he'll call tomorrow. I had my blue, silky pajamas on and was about to climb into my bed when I heard a knock at the door. Who the heck is that so late at night? Thinking it might be some creeper, I cautiously tiptoed to the door and stared through the peep-hole. The sight in front of me didn't do much to reassure me; there stood a guy in a dark hoodie, a snapback pulled low over his eyes, and a black surgical mask concealing the rest of his face. I was right. It is a creeper. I noticed, however, that there was a black backpack strapped on his back. Mr. Shady-Pants? He really is shady. Who knocks on a girl's door at 10 P.M. dressed like that? I scoffed and opened the door, slapping a fake-sugary smile on my face. Oh, well. I should probably act nice and apologize for this whole thing. He did come all the way out here and he looks tired.

"Hey! You're the guy from the theater, right? I was beginning to think that you weren't coming!" I started as soon as I opened the door.

"Um, yeah," he said, voice muffled behind his mask. "You're the one I switched backpacks with, right?" As he talked, he kept looking around him like he was afraid someone was following him. I furrowed my eyebrows. Is he really into some shady business? 

"Yep, that's me," I nodded, smiling again.

"Can I come in?" He looked directly at me as he said this. Something about his striking gaze seemed familiar for some reason.

I stepped aside and opened the door wider for him to enter. "Go ahead." I followed him with my eyes as he set my backpack on the couch and dropped down next to it. Shutting the door, I said, "I'll be right back with your stuff," and hurried to my room to grab the thing that had been the object of my misery ever since the night before. He's acting normal. Maybe he didn't read it.

My bare feet were soundless against the white carpet as I re-entered the living room where Mr. Shady-Pants was lounging comfortably with his arms crossed and his eyes closed. I drew my lips into a thin line and almost said something, but decided against it and sat down in the black leather chair next to the couch. The small shifting sound must have disturbed him because he immediately opened his eyes and sat up straight.

"Excuse me... uh... Mr.," I began with a shaky smile. "I'm sorry about all of this. I acted really immature yesterday."

Mr. Shady-Pants nodded. "Same here." He leaned his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. "I was just kind of teasing you during the movie," he said, locking eyes with me," but then I realized you were getting mad. That was my bad, but your reaction was so funny to me."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Whatever. I'm over it." I held out my left hand. "Do you wanna call a truce? We were both at fault," even if it was more you, "but we're both mature adults," at least I am, "so I hope that we can put this behind us." I finished with a polite smile.

He pretended (I think) to contemplate it for a few seconds before taking my hand. "Truce." His eyes got squinty like he was smiling.

I retracted my hand and asked about something that had been bothering me. "Not to pry or anything, but why exactly do you dress like that?" I swept my eyes down from his sketchy-looking hat and creepy mask down to his black basketball shoes and back up. Still totally shady.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I was famous?" he asked.

I blinked. It would make sense, I guess. I shrug. "I guess it all depends on who you tell me you are." Do I really have a famous person in my apartment? Do I really have a famous person's personal belongings in my arms? I should have taken pictures while I had the chance, darn it!

He laughed and leaned back on the couch. "Who do you think I am?"

I squinted at his face. Should I know this guy? I thought a little more. Wait. Is he... "I have no idea," I lied. "What's your name, Mr. Famous?" I decided not to call him Mr. Shady-Pants.

He brought his hands to his ears. "Don't tell, okay?" He turned around to remove his mask. My heart sped up. When he turned to face me, I was face-to-face with Park Jimin. Freaking Park Jimin.

My eyes widened what felt like 337% (but what was more like 53%). I stood up and dropped his backpack on the floor. "You mean the shady guy I met at the movie theater was Park Jimin?" I asked, almost to myself. Oh, gosh. My hands started to sweat.

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows. "Shady?"

I shot him a come-on-you-know-exactly-what-I'm-talking-about look. "Yes, shady. My friend thought you were gangsters or something."

He started to laugh. I stood there for a few seconds, still in shock, before realizing how utterly ridiculous this situation was. Park Jimin, the shady guy from the theater, is in my living room. He returned my stuff. Then, I laughed.

Our laugher was cut off by another laugh. I froze. Who the heck...? Jimin just chuckled and reached into his right front pocket to pull out his phone with a calm-down-you-freak look on his face. He read something and typed a reply with lightning-quick fingers. Instead of asking--mostly because this was freaking Park Jimin in my living room and I couldn't even speak--I just waited with curious eyes for him to explain.

"That was Jin," he finally said. "He said I should hurry since it's late."

I smiled. Jin really is the mom of BTS. "Yeah, you should go." Or just stay forever.

He stood up and grabbed my backpack from the couch. "It was a pleasure meeting you." He held out the backpack for us to exchange.

"Same to you," I said and traded him backpacks. "Thanks for returning my stuff. I know you're busy and all." We walked to the door and I opened it for him.

"It's no problem," he replied as he threw the strap over his shoulder. As he took a step to walk out, he paused and glanced back at me. "Are you a fan?"

I looked away. "Uh, yeah." I rubbed the back of my neck.

"Good." He grinned before placing his mask back over his face. "I left a present for you in your backpack." With that, he strolled out of my apartment, waving without turning back.

Present? Like, an album? An autograph? I smiled mildly while closing the door, but as soon as it clicked shut, I sprinted over to the couch where he had been sitting a minute ago and practically ripped the zipper off of my backpack. I inspected every item, not finding the so-called gift he left for me. Oh, well. I'll find it later.

I prepared my backpack for the next day of school and left my journal at my desk because I was suddenly too tired from all of the stress to bother ranting about the day. Needless to say, my dreams that night were quite fascinating.

---

I woke up the next day with a goofy smile on my face. Did that really happen? As soon as I put my feet on the carpet, they carried me to my desk. As I sat down, I opened my journal. I lazily leafed through the pages all the way to the last entry I wrote. Then, I looked closer. Crap. This isn't my handwriting. I didn't write this. I flipped through the last few pages with a lump forming in my throat. In every entry pertaining to BTS that was written in Korean, there were things crossed out and rewritten in a different script. However, I noticed that there was a pattern. Every time I complimented a member other than Jimin, the name was crossed out and replaced with Jimin. There was also a copious amount of notes in the margins about him. He read it. 

Just when I was about to give up and cry for days, I turned to the last entry in the journal, which I assumed was written entirely by Jimin, the hot life-ruiner.

Gosh, I just love Jimin. He is so hot and has a voice like honey. He is especially attractive when he dances. Just everything about him is amazing. I wish we could get married someday and have 19 kids. That would be the best.

Also, I take back everything good I've ever said about the other members. They're fat and ugly and can't dance at all--especially that Jin guy. He's way too girly. What kind of guy likes pink, anyway? What a weirdo.

Then there were a few lines of space. Underneath, it said this.

Hey. So if you're reading this, then you're the movie theater girl, right?

Here's a present for entertaining me more than the movie did.

02-XXX-XXXX

Love, The Hot, Charming Jimin, your BIAS

P.S. You're cute.

After reading that, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I have an idol's phone number. More specifically, I have Park Jimin's phone number. I should be happy. But then again, I did get it because he read my journal. I simply closed my journal and walked to my blue nightstand to grab my phone. I told Chaeyoung to come over immediately because I had a surprise for her. She said she would be there in three minutes--after all, she lived two doors down. In the meantime, I couldn't do anything but sit and stare at my wall. Is this real life?

---

When Chaeyoung read what Jimin had done, she couldn't stop laughing. "Dude, this is gold!" she exclaimed as she took a picture.

I grimaced. "Chaeyoung, he read everything." I lay down on my bed and slapped my hands over my face as if that would cover my embarrassment.

She turned to face me. "He also called you cute."

I removed my hands from my face and squinted at her. "He probably says that to all of his fans." I crossed my arms over my chest and flipped over on my side, trying to hide my suddenly-blushing cheeks.

"He gave you his number, though," she reasoned.

I didn't have a comeback to that one; I kind of doubted that he gave that to all of the fans. "So?"

It was silent for a couple of minutes. Getting suspicious of the silence, I sat up and stared at Chaeyoung, who was fliddling with a phone--my phone. I jumped up and tried to grab it, but Chaeyoung reacted too quickly and climbed on top of my chair. Before much longer, she had pressed send. She then stepped down and nonchalantly handed me my phone, smirking as she did so. I gave her a why-would-you-do-this-to-me-Chaeyoung look and checked to see what she had done. She giggled happily and ran off before I could punch her kidneys.

To: The Hot Charming Jimin

10:17 A.M. Hey bae you lookin' fine.

I immediately followed that text with,

OMG sorry wrong person.

I couldn't tell him that Chaeyoung sent it--then he would know that I told someone. Then again, he probably expected me to. Ah, well. It's too late now.

---

Even though she was sleeping, I messaged Jess to tell her about the recent events. I figured she would enjoy that. It wasn't about Jungkook, but it was still BTS and that was enough for her.

After that, I miserably watched cheesy rom-coms for hours as I awaited any sort of reply from Jimin. He's probably busy right now. He's an idol, after all. I fell asleep at about 5 P.M. with a bag of Banana Kicks hugged tightly to my chest.

---

I woke up to my text tone sounding several times. I rubbed my eyes tiredly and picked up my phone, pushing the Banana Kicks from my chest to the floor. I yawned. Then I yawned again. I tucked a strand of fallen hair behind my ear before I unlocked my phone. After reading my new messages, I smiled. Silly.

From: The Hot Charming Jimin

7:32 P.M. Who were you sending it to then? ;)

              Sorry I was filming.

              I just got done.

7:33 P.M. What are you doing?

              Are you busy?

              But really though.

              Who were you sending that text to

              If it wasn't to me

              The hot, charming Jimin

              Your BIAS

To: The Hot Charming Jimin

7:35 P.M. It was to my friend.

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Okay so yep that's done.

You've probably noticed by now that the main character does not have a name. lol I feel like I've made it terribly obvious. I just don't know what to make it and it's a little late for that now.

Anyways.

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Thanks for reading this and sorry for any mistakes. I'm literally typing this up at 4:30 A.M. and I don't feel like re-reading for mistakes. Feel free to tell me. XD