Warning: *WINKS* *SUGGESTIVE EYEBROWS* *PARK JIMIN IN GENERAL*

Sticky heat had twirled it’s way up your limbs, the thin covers masked in sweat, sticking to your legs. Your interrupted sleep was natural now, and you awoke to silence. Sighing did no good for the broken fan, and you instead flicked the covers off your legs, wrestling with the damp and uncomfortable fabric. Cheap cotton and warm air would do no good for your insomnia.

With summer having launched itself onto the atmosphere, bringing dry weather and humid nights, your sleepless state was even worse than before. It was the fifth night in a row that you’d awoken to a vivid awareness of sweat covering your body and your hair sticking to your neck. A week of thirty degree heat was beginning to make you crack and you longed to go back to your nights of broken sleep, at least then you were weren’t slowly melting in your own bedroom.

Standing up, you kicked aside the pair of pyjama bottoms you had discarded much earlier in the night and made your way towards your dresser. The cold floor beneath your feet was a nice contrast and you savoured the few steps. Being met with the same old tired eyes and messy hair, you ran a hand through it.

Insomnia painted into your skin, sleeping pills and mediation did no good for your state of sleeplessness and it seemed since your transition to college, it was only getting worse. You’d tried every method thrown at you and they’d either been useless since night one, or the effects had worn off. There was no word to describe the tired you felt.

Aching bones, like a dull slow pain ebbing away inside your muscles, it never seemed to stop. It was endless, the slow, unforgiving darkness the night seemed to blur into, and it never let up. Save for the few miracles of broken sleep some nights bring, loneliness and a new found hatred for the moon and it’s sorry promise for magic people called night time were all the early AM’s brought. There was nothing to romanticise about the frustration of feeling so utterly drained that even when you so desperately prayed for relief, it stubbornly did not come.

The metal of the handle as you turned it was as sharp as a cut and leaving it seemed like a sin as you silently crept along the corridors. The gentle snoring from your brother’s room was a give-away that both he and his three companions were sound asleep and you felt no worry as you walked along the wooden floor, legs bare, only a long t-shirt as clothing.

Tapping your fingers against the wall, as if trying to in the cold wallpaper’s icy touch, you turned the corner to be met with the brightness of the dull fluorescent light of your fridge.

And there he had sat.

Chest in full display, ridges of well defined muscles glowing with the blueish white light of the fridge were enough to stop you in your tracks. The dark haired figure had twisted around upon hearing you entering and you had become fully aware of who it was.

Park Jimin had smiled at you, so innocently that his half state was forgotten for a second and your attempt at trying to leave was halted because he had all his attention on you. 
There was no second chance now, your chance to duck out before he could notice who had been there was gone and at risk at making your situation any more awkward, your only choice was to answer his question.
“Couldn’t sleep either huh?”

You’d wanted to scoff and say it was a recurring scenario with you, but you simply nodded.
He’d stood, stepping away from the cool air the fridge emitted and wrapped his arms around himself, as if slightly embarrassed of his torso. A chuckle and smile that made his eyes half moons was enough to make you smile too.  He had shrugged as if unsure what to say.

“Um … I was really warm so I decided to sit near the fridge, it’s um” another laugh “kind of working. But it’s nearly forty degrees so what did I expect”

It took you everything you had to draw to draw your eyes away from the tiny strands of hair leading down to his navel and into his boxers, which were an obnoxious red colour, and meet his eyes across the kitchen table.

“Yeah, it’s annoying. My fan broke in my room. I came out to get a drink”
He had stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter the small galley kitchen and your reluctance hadn’t gone unnoticed and to save any more awkward conversation, you refused to meet his eyes as you stepped out from behind the cover of table’s obstructive view.

You hadn’t noticed his eyes shifting immediately to the floor as your bare thighs came into his view, a hand going behind his neck as he struggled not to look up. Widened and slightly shocked, he cleared his throat in a quick motion, running a hand through his dark hair, making it more dishevelled than before.
He’d wished in that moment that he hadn’t just been wearing boxers.

“Do you want a drink?” you had asked at your place by the sink, two glasses in hand, refusing to meet his eyes.
Another awkward look up and you tried not to appear embarrassed as he finally looked at you and cleared his throat again. “Yes please” was all he was able to say and he glanced once or twice at you before taking refuge at the kitchen table sitting in the farthest chair away from you.

Turning your back to him, you tried not to cringe at the embarrassing state you were in and cursed yourself for not just heading back to your room the moment you’d seen him. Your eyes still half closed, the dull headache of too many sleepless nights in a row had begun in your left temple and you weren’t in much a state to care. 

Your attraction to your brother’s best friend was something of a never ending story of awkward moments and cringe worthy conversations. Despite the odd moments you’d been left together, it seemed neither of you could form an intelligent sentence and you’d often wondered if he looked down on you for this. You’d wondered a lot more about the boy too and none of it was appropriate to be reminiscing about as you stood in your kitchen with both of you half .

Gritting your teeth, you brought the glass over to him with a smile and faltered at the other side, as if debating if you should sit or simply go back to your room. 
“I’ll just drink this and I’ll see if I can do anything about your fan” he had smiled back and you had sat at the opposite side of the table. Jimin scolding himself as he was in no state to be around you, let alone in a room alone with you, but either way, his helpful nature had over powered the logical side of his brain, which was screaming for him to take a cold shower and leave the damned apartment as soon as possible.

The awkward five minutes spent at the table, filled with shifts from both party’s and small talk exchanged in sleepy voices and smiles thrown about carelessly, was more a blur than anything.

That didn’t mean you didn’t look at him though, and oh god, did you look.

Drinking in the sight of his bare stomach and chest, your swift glances would trail back to the same spot each time, as if checking he was real, which he very much was. Dark hair fell over his face at times, shielding both his and your own view and the way it was pushed back up, with a careless motion from his end was the best thing you’d ever seen done so early in the morning.

He was one of the better sights your insomnia brought you.

Having drained his own glass, he waited for you to stand before getting up himself. Taking no notice of this, you bypassed him as quickly as possible, ready to lead him to your room, to of all things, fix your fan. But it seemed whatever deity above had indeed no mercy on you, and in the dim light from the hallway window, instead of actually appearing awake, your foot instead collided with the wall.

A sharp hiss emitted from your mouth and you forgot your compromised state as you lifted your leg to grasp your stubbed toes in both your hands. Jimin, having just gotten up from the table, averted his eyes to anywhere but your exposed underwear and instead leaned over you to inspect the damage.

He had seemed to cause more damage himself though as your eyes went wide and you froze when he reached over you to pry your hands away. For a second, the poor boy was confused as he watched your cringing face grow redder and you had shifted away from him, and then his confused look had dropped and a look of dread had fallen over his pretty features.

With a view mumbles of “I’m actually really tired. We’ll fix the fan in the morning” you limped off to your room and almost screamed in frustration as you locked the door behind you.

Leaving the poor boy to wallow in self pity and crippling embarrassment as he  fell against the wall where you had been seconds ago and struggled to push back his damning thoughts and decided his decision of taking a cold shower should have been initiated much sooner.