Friday, March 17, 2015, 11:25AM

 

            There’s just something about the student council president that draws Yoongi’s attention to him, and Yoongi’s yet to figure out what it is.

 

            There’s something about him – like he’s a New Year fireworks show and Yoongi’s a seven-year-old kid who’s seen flames burst in the sky in succession for the first time, like he’s a magnet and him and Yoongi are the two polar opposites – and for the life of Yoongi, he just can’t bring himself to stop staring at him from across the room, even in a cafeteria where the loudness is deafening, even from where Yoongi’s seated, and even if it’s the literal Hellhole of High School – where five-hundred-something students from all year levels are crammed into, pushing into each other in an ocean of bodies and jeering around their own circles of friends; loud, obnoxious, and just generally not Yoongi’s taste.

 

            He’s seated far off to the left where there is less excitement and shouting from freshmen and more of lazy drawls, heavy snores, and melancholic silence from unenthusiastic, zombified juniors and seniors just trying to survive the rest of the day running on three hours of sleep and seven cups of coffee. Yoongi himself has an untouched cup of coffee (his first, fortunately, and hopefully last for the day) cradled between his hands on top of the plastic table, four hours of sleep doing him no good and the eye bags underneath his eyes are a nice touch to the ‘I’m-ing-tired-and-I’ll--you-up-if-you-try-to-pull--with-me’ get-up he’s got going on; his eyes still trained on the student council president making his way to his own table, occasionally stopping by a few other tables when students call him out, all smiles and loud laughs.

 

            Yoongi’s still too busy observing him (he takes note of the way the president throws his head back just a little whenever he laughed that tinkling kind of laughter, eyes quickly curving into delightful crescents) when Namjoon sidles up to his side, sliding into the seat easily and hand quickly plucking the cup of coffee from Yoongi’s hands, smoothly stealing a sip of his coffee before setting it back on the table, face contorting into a semi-disgust, semi-amazement kind of expression.

 

            “Wow, that’s gotta be the tiest brew they’ve come up with so far, tastes like rat ,” Namjoon his head to gesture at the cup, propping his elbow on the table while looking around the mess of a room uninterestedly.

 

            “You’ve tasted rat before,” Yoongi questions distractedly, just to have something to say, although it flattens out at the end and comes off more as a statement rather than a question.

 

            “You’d be surprised at what kind of Namjoon’s already had a taste of,” a new voice pipes up – Hoseok – who’s quick to take the seat next to Yoongi, sandwiching him between Namjoon and the newcomer. Hoseok casually reaches for the accused cup of coffee and takes a mouthful, setting the cup down with a loud thunk and chirps after swallowing down the liquid with slight difficulty.

 

            “Yep, definitely ty,” he’s wearing a grin while he says this.

 

            “Hm.”

 

            “What’s up with you? You seem more distracted than usual,” Namjoon speculates when he finally looks at Yoongi, observes the distant look in his eyes and follows his line of sight, fist squishing against his cheek as he turns his head, “What’re you looking at?”

 

            “I’d say he’s looking at that weird kid Dongwoo who looks like he’s got a permanent rainbow up his based on how ing excited he always seems to be, but then again, Yoongi’s never really liked weird, so, huh, maybe,” Hoseok answers for Yoongi in a sage kind of musing voice, “Student council president?”

 

            Yoongi decides against answering just because his friends make great, sometimes humorous, ty hypotheses, merely letting out a soft grunt as his fingers find the rim of his now-empty cup of coffee, tracing around the thick lip of the cup idly.

 

            “Oh, Park Jimin?” Namjoon nods thoughtfully to Hoseok’s guess, tilting his head to get a better look at the said person – who’s gone through every table possible and was now finally headed to the table where his own circle of friends sat, “He’s cute, yeah, I’d understand why Yoongi seems to be so enchanted by him.”

 

            Hoseok snorts at Namjoon’s choice of words and lifts a shoulder to a noncommittal shrug, “Heard he likes his boys bad though, who knew our responsible, role-model of a student council president was into that?”

 

            Yoongi finally looks away from Jimin (he takes note of how his lips curl into this tiniest of the cutest pouts when his friends laugh at him for something Yoongi couldn’t quite hear) and turns his attention to Hoseok, his last words piquing his curiosity, “Bad boys?”

 

            “Bad boys like real, criminal kind of bad boys or those cheesy chick flick generic kind of bad boys?” Namjoon elaborates on Yoongi’s question, an eyebrow shooting up at the disclosure of the fact, and takes another glance at the person of concern, not really sure why he’s so interested (the ugly combination of high school and gossip does that to you sometimes).

 

            “Bad boys like definitely-not-Yoongi kind of bad boys,” Hoseok half-shrieks, half-laughs, something like a bad hybrid, and gets jabbed at his side with a bony elbow (thanks to Yoongi), and mutters something about ‘tolerating abuse in this household’, finally speaking as he rubs his side tenderly, “Dunno man, just heard it somewhere.”

 

            Yoongi rolls his eyes at Hoseok, because of course, that’s how Hoseok would get his information, “Right.”

 

            Yoongi’s eyes stray back to where Jimin’s sitting while Namjoon and Hoseok talk about some he really doesn’t know anything of (or care of), and lets his mind wander with the thoughts of pretty brown eyes and crooked front teeth.

 

 

**

 

 

1:49PM

 

 

            If there’s just one thing Yoongi realizes, it’s that the student council president is everywhere. In the hallways during the busiest times of the day when they’re changing classes, there’s that mop of brown hair distinctly different from all the others in the crowd; in the P.E. gym locker rooms where students from all year levels join into numbered classes, Jimin’s laugh echoes sharply that it sounds like he’s standing right next to Yoongi sometimes; he even meets Jimin randomly when he’s entering the comfort room and the latter’s just coming out.

 

            Their eyes meet and Jimin sends him a tiny, pleasant smile in a fraction of a second. Secretive of all sorts, mysterious, charming, the kind that’s not really all that similar to those reserved for everyday student council president interactions; and when Yoongi passes him by, he’s sure he hears him call “hi hyung”, the word brushing past his ear like the midday wind, and then it’s gone the next.

 

            Park Jimin gets him hooked before the day’s even ended.

 

 

**

 

 

3:16PM

 

 

            It happens during art class, when Ms. Cho asks Yoongi and Namjoon to grab materials they’re missing from the arts club room; they’re supposed to be creating portraits of still life, and the duo are more than willing to get out of the stuffy, chemical-smelling room and breath in some fresh air.

 

            They stumble out of the room with Ms. Cho reminding them from behind to not ‘loiter around and return as soon as possible’, to which Namjoon had replied with a bow, only to scrunch his nose once he turns his back, the door closed, and with Yoongi snickering lightly.

 

            They take their time strolling to the arts club room, only a few doors down their own classroom, and Namjoon almost hits somebody when he makes a move to push open the door.

 

            They both hear a tiny yelp coming from the other side, and soon, Jimin emerges holding a box filled with colorful tapes and rolled papers, his tongue poking out from the side of his mouth in concentrated thought.

 

            “Oh! Yoongi hyung, Namjoon hyung. Sorry, I was trying to get myself out of that darn room, my bad,” Jimin laughs, eyes automatically curving into slits, and his crooked tooth peeks from his glossy lips. Leave it to the student council president to know almost all of the students, Yoongi thinks. He looks up at them and inquires with an amused knowing grin, “Ms. Cho?”

 

            “Yeah, she’s always forgetting something, you know,” Namjoon waves a hand limply at his side, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips as he starts to shuffle into the room, rehearsing the list of items Ms. Cho needs as he goes on looking through the shelves of the colorful room, leaving behind Yoongi with Jimin.

 

            Jimin tilts his head at Yoongi, still wearing that cheeky grin, as if waiting for him to say something. Yoongi takes a glance at the box in Jimin’s hand and darts his tongue out to wet his lower lip, “Want help with that?”

 

            “I’m good, hyung,” Jimin cracks a bigger grin, a soft giggle escaping his lips as if Yoongi had just said something amusing (which he probably did, considering the box in Jimin’s hands probably weighted nothing), and takes a glance at Namjoon who’s near demolishing every art piece in the cramped room, “You might wanna help that hyung over there, though.”

 

            “Yeah,” Yoongi nods distractedly, and Jimin walks away with a cheerful ‘see you later, hyung!’ thrown over his shoulder.

 

            Yoongi lets Namjoon trip over some more tinsels and thick twines before finally offering to help him gather the materials.

 

 

**

 

 

4:54PM

 

 

            “So are you still thirsting for student council president Park Jimin?” Hoseok yells in the midst of the crowd exiting the room; some of the students look over their shoulders to the little scene Hoseok’s created but nonetheless keep on moving, not wanting to stay confined in the room further, whatever the case being (and honestly Hoseok always makes a scene that it isn’t really considered a scene anymore, at least not when he’s involved). Sometimes though, Yoongi still dreams of beating Hoseok into a tiny pulp with a plastic chair.

 

            Instead of answering, Yoongi opts to punch his arm instead, huffing with his brows creased, “I’m not thirsting for anybody, and did you really have to say his name?”

 

            Namjoon catches up to them and swings his arms around both of their shoulders, effectively making them stagger forward gracelessly, “Yah, we saw Jimin earlier. I’m pretty sure Yoongi’s crushing on the kid.”

 

            “Good luck with that, maybe try stealing lunch from some freshmen, you know, to increase your bad boy percentage,” Hoseok suggests with an impossibly serious look on his face (Yoongi’s never really taken him seriously).

 

            The day’s finally over and they’re heading down to their lockers to deposit a couple of their things (well, two of them anyway, Hoseok just dumps everything in the damned locker), and it’s also the time of the day Yoongi allows himself to humor his friends despite himself.

 

            “Yeah, well.” Yoongi mutters apathetically, slamming his locker door shut once he’s done leaving stuffs that he wouldn’t need over the weekend and looks at Namjoon and Hoseok who’s done the same, the two sharing a look of expectation.

 

            “Oh. It’s Friday and it means time for you to meet… whoever you meet on Fridays, no?” Hoseok’s lips curl into that -eating grin, and Yoongi cringes at the accusation, although true. “Huh, now I’m starting to doubt that Yoongi has a crush on Jimin. Since he’s always meeting this…person.” Hoseok waves a hand lamely at the lack of better word for whomever Yoongi is meeting (as if suggesting maybe he wasn’t meeting a person as they’ve suspected) glancing at Namjoon, who merely shrugs.

 

            “Really, who is this person you’ve always been meeting?” Namjoon’s voice cracks with curiosity, but both him and Hoseok are turning around and making their way down the other side of the hall, “Well, whatever. Just be sure to go out and get some fresh air during the weekend, Yoongi.”

 

            Yoongi’s curse is thrown to the wind, Hoseok’s laughter rings bright in the background.

 

 

**

 

6:47PM

 

 

            Two hours later and Yoongi’s leaning against the cool surface of a metal locker, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed as he waits, humming to a light, irregular tune he doesn’t remember hearing of.

 

            He only opens his eyes when he hears the familiar clunk of the locker door shutting, the metal rattling under his head, and he turns to see an equally familiar brunet observing him with a small grin toying on his lips, familiar crooked tooth peeking from his lips, familiar glittering brown eyes, familiar pink cheeks, familiar everything.

 

            Yoongi’s lips curl into a playful smirk.

 

            “Funniest thing I heard today,” he pushes himself off the locker effortlessly, uncrosses his arms and places one of his hands against the other’s hip, his head tilting ever so slightly, “I heard you were into bad boys?”

 

            The brunet – the student council president – Park Jimin snorts.

 

            He leans in wearing a sunny grin and Yoongi meets him halfway, their lips slotting together in a manner that almost seems perfect. Like they’ve done it many times before, like they do it every time, like they’ve never lived a day without doing it.

 

            Jimin pulls away first, leaning his forehead against Yoongi and wrinkles his nose lightly, lips twisting into that same adorable pout he always puts on for Yoongi, “I thought you were a bad boy?”

 

            Yoongi is laughing when he reaches for Jimin’s hand, intertwining their fingers together and pulls him to his side with a gentle tug.

 

            Yoongi is still laughing when they’re walking down the hall at 6:50PM with almost nobody around the campus anymore and the sky’s colored pink with the sun just setting down the horizon, the wind too chilly that Jimin huddles to his side.

 

            “Only 10 percent.”

 

            “Well, that’s my bad boy percentage quota anyway.”

 

 

**

 

A couple of weeks back

 

 

            If there’s one thing Yoongi likes more than embarrassing Namjoon and Hoseok in front of an audience, it’s sleeping. It’s not that he suffers from narcolepsy or anything, but he just really, really loves sleeping. So, it has become his kinda-mission to find the best spot in the campus while still managing not to get into by skipping classes in doing so.

 

            Today, he tries the farthest, most neglected section of the school’s library where the light’s dim, the air-conditioning reaches the area, and it’s wonderfully quiet, devoid of the sounds of clicking of the keys, turning of pages and clacking of heels.

 

            Yoongi falls asleep in a matter of minutes. And he’s in the middle of a nice dream, a dream he couldn’t find himself remembering when a book, a heavy book at that, drops straight onto his head.

 

            Yoongi jumps out of his skin and ends up howling in pain once it sinks in, hands automatically reaching for the top of his head, checking for blood, for bumps, for anything and , it hurts, and there’s a whimper that’s stuck in his throat – he’s really ready to cry the out of his eyeballs because it really does ing hurt, and he’s really, really ready to beat the out of the who dropped the thick book on his head when he hears someone scrambling from the other side of the shelf and there’s suddenly a pretty boy with full cheeks kneeling in front of him whisper-yelling in an urgent voice. Yoongi’s pretty sure he’s on the brink of breaking down, there are tears clinging onto his lashes, when he sees Yoongi clutching onto his head.

 

            “Oh my god, oh my gosh, oh my – are you bleeding? Oh my god, are you, do you have a concussion? I swear to god, I didn’t mean it – I – I’ll take you to the clinic, please oh my god I – you’re bleeding!”

 

            Yoongi doesn’t know if he winces at the painful throbbing of his head or at the panicking boy in front of him, face flushed with alarm. Gingerly removing his hands from his head, he holds them out palms up, voice still coarse from shock when he finally speaks, “Hey, no, chill, it’s okay, I’m not bleeding, I’m just – I’m just badly bruised, I think.”

 

            The boy breathes out heavily in relief, hastily pushing the backs of his hands over his wet eyes to wipe away the tears that formed. He looks up at Yoongi and Yoongi almost reaches out to dry the remaining traces of wetness around his eyes (he doesn’t).

 

            “Were you sleeping in the library?” The boy does a complete 180-degree change that it throws Yoongi off, his eyebrows immediately furrowing in confusion.

 

            “What?”

 

            “You know it’s against the rules and conduct of the library to use it as a sleeping location, people use this facility to learn!” The boy somehow has turned the situation along with him, and now he’s reprimanding Yoongi in a very strict (but adorable, with a Busan lilt to it) tone and Yoongi’s starting to feel a little guilty, only a little.

 

            “Well, I guess I’m a bad boy then.” The words slip out of his mouth before he could even comprehend what he’s just said, only registering when the boy sends him a blank stare and then proceeds to burst into a fit of laughter after a pregnant pause.

 

            “Okay, okay,” The boy starts, panting in between laughs and heavy inhales, and Yoongi should really feel offended because the boy’s laughing at him for ’s sake (and nobody laughs at Min Yoongi) but he doesn’t, he actually feels proud for making the boy laugh and wow, he’s got a really cute laughing face, “Okay, but no, you’re – you’re only like, 10 percent bad boy though, okay.”

 

            “10 percent?”

 

            “Well, sleeping in the library isn’t really… bad boy material, uh…”

 

            “Yoongi, my name’s Min Yoongi.”

 

            Jimin flashes him a smile, the ‘pleasant, charming, not at all the kind he uses for daily student council president interactions, and with just a hint of playfulness’ kind of smile.

 

            “Min Yoongi, right –“

 

            “That’s hyung to you.”

 

            “–my name’s Park Jimin, your student council president.”

 

            Jimin finally stands up and holds a hand out for Yoongi to take, cocking his head to the side. “We should really get your head checked, we can’t have you losing the 10 percent of your bad boy percentage now, can we?”

 

            Yoongi doesn’t hold back a snort when he reaches for Jimin’s hand, pulling himself up with a huff. “Whatever you say, Mr. Student council president Park Jimin.”

 

 

**

 

 

Friday, March 17, 2015, 9:13PM

 

 

            They’re in Jimin’s room and Yoongi has his back pressed against the wall, fingers absentmindedly raking through Jimin’s soft hair while his free hand holds a chemistry handout in front of his face, eyes merely skimming through its contents.

 

            Yoongi has been spending the past Friday nights like this, him in Jimin’s room, Jimin somewhere near him, just the two of them in peaceful confinement, and sometimes they don’t talk, sometimes they do, and all is perfect either way.

 

            “Hyung,” Jimin’s voice is soft and if Yoongi hasn’t been particularly actively listening to his soft breathing, he wouldn’t have heard anything.

 

            Yoongi sets the paper aside and looks down at Jimin, who has his head upon Yoongi’s lap, hair splayed over his head like a halo, and it looks the silly-kind-of-cute only Jimin could work with. “Yeah?”

 

            “Do you…” There’s a pause in Jimin’s sentence, like he’s almost hesitant to say the next words, but Yoongi encourages him with a light nod, pressing the pad of his thumb over Jimin’s glabella, smoothing his thumb over the soft skin, and Jimin continues, though with a voice softer than before, “do you ever think of telling your friends about me? I mean, about us, or whatever this is.”

 

            Yoongi sees the worry in the younger’s eyes and he knows what Jimin’s probably thinking (only because he’s been in the same state since two weeks ago after they’ve met, after they’ve kissed for the first time under that tree in the courtyard of the campus behind the classrooms, the first time Yoongi’s ever sent Jimin home with their fingers laced). He traces his thumb down the delicate slope of Jimin’s nose, tapping the tip of his nose lightly, eliciting a soft giggle from Jimin, and moves to press against the younger’s soft lips, gently swiping the pad of his thumb over his thicker bottom lip.

 

            “Of course, I do, I think about it every time, I just didn’t think you’d want that.”

 

            Jimin sits up abruptly, narrowly missing Yoongi’s chin, and looks at him with wide eyes and parted lips. “Why wouldn’t I want that, hyung?I’ve been dying to tell my friends about you, I really… I really hate pretending not to know you at school, I mean, know you like this… Especially in the hallways, you know…” Jimin murmurs, cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink as he looks down and plays with the hem of Yoongi’s sweater, brows furrowing in embarrassment, “I mean, I want to let people know we’re together, I mean, we are, aren’t we? If we aren’t, I totally understand and I just –“

 

            Yoongi rolls his eyes lightheartedly at Jimin’s ramblings, shutting the boy up by pressing his lips against the younger, pulling away once he’s effectively stopped the other from talking.

 

            “You’re an idiot, you know that, Park Jimin?” Yoongi murmurs softly, bringing up a hand to cup Jimin’s face, brushing his thumb over the smooth apple of his cheek, “I’m one hundred percent in love with you, and honestly, I’m more of an idiot for never asking you officially, so, yeah, Park Jimin, will you be my boyfriend?”

 

            Jimin answers him with bright eyes and an even brighter smile and whispers a “Yes” against his lips.

 

            (When Yoongi tells Hoseok and Namjoon about Jimin on Monday, they’re almost about to ask for proof when Jimin comes to their table and presses a soft kiss to Yoongi’s cheek with a shy grin, rendering the duo astonished, before waving goodbye to head over to his equally dumbfounded friends.)

 

 

**

 

 

            There’s definitely something about the student council president that Yoongi can’t put his finger on. But that doesn’t really mean anything, especially when he’s pretty sure he has all the time in the world to try and figure him out. Except Park Jimin doesn’t need figuring out, and Yoongi’s damn sure he’s fine with just being blindly enchanted with the student council president Park Jimin.