Y/N:

There is something odd about the way the day feels. You’re not sure what it is, but the sun seems to be shining brighter, the grey clouds in overcast sky -although hard to tell apart- are smiling at you, the trees wave as you run past them and the wind hums a pleasant tune in your ears. Even the warm air that you exhale feels hopeful as it dances with the frozen air it meets.

Slowing down as you reach home, you take a few moments to catch your breath and, looking over at the black-haired boy, you ask, “So…what’s the plan?”

He starts stretching, “Well, I thought we should do the same thing we were supposed to do that day.”

“Late lunch and a movie?” You ask.

Jimin nods and puts his hands on his hips, “Is that okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Great. I’ll come to your room around at two then?” He asks, holding the front door open for you, “Then we can just drive up together.”

“Okay.” You walk through and kick off your trainers, “See you at two.”

He smiles and the two of you walk to your respective rooms, “Angel Cakes!” He calls when you open your door. You look over your shoulder at him and he smiles, “Wear something pretty, okay? I want the full experience.”

You just laugh, “Fine, but you better be looking good too.”

“I always look good.” He runs a hand through his hair in typical Jimin style, laughing at himself as he says so.

~

“Something pretty, something pretty…” You mutter after staring into your cupboard for quarter of an hour, trying to come up with something decent to wear for the afternoon, “Something pretty.”

You start tossing items on your bed, trying to line up potential outfits and look at them, still unable to decide on anything.

“Why is this so difficult?” You whine and throw yourself down on top of the clothes.

‘The clothes are getting crumpled!’ A voice in your head scolds.

‘Who cares?’ You roll all over them to spite the voice.

‘Come on dude. Get off.’ It nags.

‘No.’ You stubbornly refuse.

‘Why are you doing this?’ The voice continues and you imagine it throwing its hands in the air and plonking itself down with a huff. ‘You can dress yourself, you do it every day. What’s so different about now? It’s just a mock-date anyway.’

‘I know, but what if I mess up? I haven't done anything like this in months.'

‘So what? Jimin hasn’t done it either and it’s going to help both of you in the long run. Now come on, I want to get dressed.’ It urges.

‘Argh fine.’ You submit to the voice, ‘But I still don’t know what to wear.’

‘Get off the clothes and figure it the hell out!’ The voice scolds, disappearing from your head with a ‘Poof!’

You pull yourself up and give a little bow, apologising to the clothing for hurting them and pick a dress up, sticking the hanger over your head so that it looks like you’re wearing it. You look at yourself in the mirror and twirl once, but not liking the way it looks, you chuck it aside and pick the next thing up. You repeat same process until you run out of ideas, creating a ‘No’ and ‘Maybe’ pile. After actually trying on the ‘Maybes’, you’re proud of yourself for narrowing your options down to just two.

Your pride quickly fades and you start scolding yourself for being absolutely torn between them. Laying them out on the floor, you sit cross-legged between the two, in serious contemplation. It’s not long before you give up and busy yourself with packing the ‘No’ pile back into your cupboard. Afterwards, you come back to the clothes but walk away almost instantly and decide to try different hairstyles instead. When you’re all settled on the hair front, you know you have to make a decision so you force yourself to.

“Okay.” You exhale and stand in front of the full-length mirror, taking yourself in after you’re all dressed and made up.

Your long hair is a simple waterfall braid and your make-up, done to look effortless. You opt for wearing a cropped black mohair sweater and pleated sky blue skirt with black knee socks and block heel boots.

This better be pretty enough! You throw your clutch down on your bed and look at the time. Fifteen minutes left. You join it on the bed and try to ignore the butterflies that start swarming around in your tummy. Why do I feel so nervous? You check your phone and try to play a game but give up and lie carefully back, trying your best not to mess up your hair. It’s just Jimin. It’s not a real date. It’s not a real date. It is not a real date.

After what feels like an eternity, there’s finally a knock at your door and you jump up, grabbing your bag and smoothing out your clothes. You take the few steps to the door and let out a breath before opening it. When you do, you’re astounded by the transformed boy or rather, the transformed man standing before you, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“Holy ! You look like an idol.” You blurt out as you take in Jimin’s styled hair and crisp emerald shirt tucked into his tight black jeans that fit perhaps too well.

He chuckles, “Pleased to meet you, it’s Angel Cakes, right?” He asks, extending his hand.

Remembering you’re not supposed to know each other, you nod, shifting your boots to your left hand and place the right in his.

“Park Jimin.” He says, raising your hand to his lips, “But you can call me Oppa.” He adds with a wink.

“You’re never gonna give up on that, are you?” You ask, shaking your head.

Ignoring your comment, he smiles and holds his arm out, “Shall we?”

Once outside, he opens the car door for you and he hops in the driver’s seat. Alone with him, the drive to the restaurant feels never-ending, the conversation, strained, and you begin to wonder why either of you ever thought this ‘Do-over’ was a good idea.

“It’s strange isn’t it?” Jimin asks, disturbing you from your thoughts.

“Hm?” You ask, unclear of his meaning.

“The air…it feels different today.” He says, stopping at a pedestrian crossing and glancing at you.

“Oh…yeah, it is a bit.”

“You know...Apart from that first time we met, I’ve never felt awkward around you.” He turns his attention back to the road and starts driving again, “It’s so weird that I am now when we spend hours alone every day.”

“Argh…” You grumble, shaking your head, “It is really awkward, isn’t it?”

He chuckles, “Uh-huh…It shouldn’t be, though.”

“Yeah, but it’s all your fault.” You say teasingly, “You had to go and call it a ‘do-over’.”

“What’s wrong with that? It is a ‘do-over’.”

“It’s so much pressure. I can’t mess up twice!” You exclaim and laugh, knowing how dramatic what you’re about to say sounds, “Do you even know how difficult it was for me to find something to wear? Your entire future hinges on how badly this goes.”

“It’s really not that important, you know?” He laughs with you, “I just wanted to go off and have some fun with you but…” He steals a glance at you, “Did you really have a hard time picking something out?”

“Dude, you have no idea.” You say with a sigh and lean back in the car seat.

“Actually…” He glances at you again, “I changed so many times that Yoongi started , saying I was going to give him motion sickness...” He scratches his chin, “Which ordinarily would make no sense but, you know Yoongi.”

The conversation settles into a more comfortable silence, akin to the one that envelops the rooftop on foggy mornings, but different in that behind it lies a quiet nervousness, a sort of anticipation that neither of you are quite willing to admit to, but do both feel and to some extent, enjoy.

~

After parking, he quickly runs around the front of the car to open the door and helps you out, slinging your arm through his and leading the way inside. In the restaurant he really seems to be in his element, from pulling out your seat for you, to the low-key flirtation, to listening intently to your stories and sharing some of his own.

“I had no idea you were this sweet.” You say, sipping on your wine, “One could almost forget this is supposed to be a mock-date.”

“Maybe one should.” He replies nonchalantly, trying to cut his meat. He looks up and smiles devilishly, popping it into his mouth, “I mean, why not?”

You giggle nervously, “Has anyone ever told you you’re a big flirt?”

“I’ve been told both those things.” He quips, adding a wink, briefly stunning you into silence as the distant memory of the morning you woke up entangled and pressed against certain parts of him flashes before your eyes.

You clear your throat and chuckle, shaking the memory off, “And that’s why not.”

As much as you try, it’s nearly impossible to not let go and just enjoy his company, so, contrary to what you said, you play along and have a good time, finding out all sorts of trivial things you hadn’t known about him before, things you’d never have known otherwise.

When he orders dessert -a heavenly couple’s dessert- that you have to lean in in order to share, you tell a lame joke and giggle. Expecting him to laugh, you lift your eyes to see him looking at you in a light seemingly altogether different from ever before. You awkwardly pull your spoon from your mouth, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” He smiles and brushes a stray hair behind your ear, “You look beautiful is all.”

You can’t help but blush and before you can even say anything, the waitress clears , announcing her presence and you giggle at how Jimin starts in his seat, neither of you having noticed her there.

“Are you enjoying the pudding?” She asks loudly, “It’s the newest dessert on our menu, did you know…”

She prattles on about how it was prepared and where the ingredients came from, apparently unaware that it’s lost to the pair of you as he goes back to looking at you and you meet his gaze, ignoring the heat that threatens to creep up and your neck and set your cheeks aflame. It’s not long before he asks for the bill and you leave, heading off for the cinema.

When crossing the road on the walk over, he takes your hand and you let him, amused when he doesn’t let go once safely on the other side. He looks down at you and smiles, squeezing it once and continues on, walking hand in hand like it’s perfectly normal.

“Couple’s seat?” You ask once inside.

He shrugs, “There wasn’t much other choice.”

When the movie finally starts, you laugh as you look around, noticing that the cinema is still practically empty, not even half-filled, “I guess all the other seats were booked by ghosts.”

He chuckles, whispering, “They must be, but don’t worry, I’m here to protect you from them.”

“You’re gonna protect me from the ‘ghosts’?” You ask placing the word in air quotes.

He throws an arm around you and turns to the screen, “Of course. They’ll never bother you with me around.” You look at his hand resting on your shoulder and he scoots closer, muttering, “Why’s the popcorn so far?”

You soon forget about his arm, thoroughly enjoying the movie, only realising when the credits start rolling that you’d somehow migrated such that you were resting your head in the crook of his arm and your hands had found each other again. Abashed, you detangle yourself from him and scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, standing up and waiting for him to do the same.

“I didn’t mind your hand, you know.” He mentions, finally getting out of the seat.

“My hand?” You ask.

“Mmh. It was nice when you took it in the middle of the movie.”

“I did?”

“You don’t remember? You slipped your fingers between mine,” He intertwines your fingers with his and starts walking, “Just like this.”

You realise that it actually did happen that way and start turning pink, not quite sure what to make of your actions, suddenly aware of how different you now feel around him, knowing that whether the two of you had done it intentionally or not, this is definitely no longer a mock-date.

“You okay Angel Cakes?” He asks and you look up at him with a questioning look, “You went quiet for a while.” He explains. “We don’t have to hold hands if you don’t want to.”

“Oh no, I’m fine. I was just thinking.” You answer, to which he squeezes your hand again, urging you to elaborate, but you ignore it.

“What’s bugging you Angel?” He presses, stepping through the revolving door that leads to the parking lot.

“This thing…" You start off, not knowing how to phrase the question, "What are we doing?” You ask, hoping he grasps your meaning.

“Snow.” He answers, stopping abruptly and looking up at the early evening sky.

Although it’s not the first snow, you can’t help but fall victim to its beauty as you always do and shortly forgetting what you were fretting over, you smile and stick out your tongue to catch the frozen water. He looks over at you and chuckles before doing the same.

“Wanna dance?” He asks.

“Now?” You ask incredulously.

“Oh, come on.” He spins you around, not waiting for an answer, and places a hand at your waist, holding one of your hands while you perch your other on his shoulder. For a short while, the two of you move in a simple waltz, dancing in silence with the setting sun and falling snow a perfect backdrop. Feeling more comfortable, you decide to drape your arms around his neck and he smiles, moving closer to you to place his hands at the small of your back.

In the quiet you can feel the vibration from his chest as he starts speaking, his voice barely above a whisper, “Angel. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my promise.”

With a questioning look, you draw back and look up at him, “What promise?”

“I promised you I’d go on a real date if we did this thing.” He reminds you.

“Oh…” You murmur, half-hopeful, half-scared of where he’s headed, “Why not?”

“Because…” He stops dancing and pulls your hands to his warm chest, “There’s this feeling…and I don’t want to ignore it anymore.”

“Oh…Well then don’t.” You say softly, the thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms somehow feeling inexplicably right.

“Don’t?” He questions, tightening his hold.

“Uh-huh. Don’t.” You say, more sure of your reply.

“Angel…you know I’m being serious, right?”

“Oppa, I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t.” You say, moving closer to him.

“Oppa?” He echoes, the corner of his mouth upturned.

You pretend not to hear his question and return your arms to the back of his neck.

He chuckles and holds you even closer, the two of you hardly moving, just swaying gently together.

The drive home is much more comfortable than before, there being no difficulty in maintaining the conversation or any awkward lulls. By the time you get back, the sky is dark and the moon is high, smiling down along with the winking stars at the pair of you. Once again holding your hand, he walks you through the house, past his bedroom to yours, where you stand opposite each other with your backs against the inside of the doorframe. At first, neither of you say anything but just look at each other and eventually laugh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” He asks, closing the little distance between you.

“Okay.” You manage, all too aware of his proximity, knowing what usually comes at this part of a date.

“Okay.” He nods with a slight smile, “Good night, Angel Cakes.” He bends and softly kisses your cheek.

Appreciating that he didn't go in for the kill, the response comes naturally, “Good night, Oppa.”

Still standing over you, he breaks out into a stupid smile and quickly pecks your lips, “Sleep well, Jagiya.”

You scrunch up your face and he quickly retreats with that goofy look still on his face, walking backward to his room and from there, he shoos you into yours, waiting for you to go in and close your door before he does.