Jimin drops down from the pull-up bar and finally makes his way back to the locker room. Longing for a shower, he wipes his sweaty forehead on the hem of his tank, grabbing his gym bag and phone before heading towards the door. When he entered the gym less than two hours ago the weather was relatively normal for early August: humid, warm, gray with the usual clouds and smog. But the moment he steps outside, he is greeted with a wash of icy cold water and the roaring sound of rain beating against the pavement. When he had wished for a shower, he’d hoped for the warm kind, in the safety of his bathroom with a fluffy towel waiting for him when he was done. Instead, he has to suffer through the long walk home wearing nothing but a thin, synthetic muscle tee and basketball shorts; not to mention his white Pumas that he has obsessively tried to keep clean since he bought them months ago.

Lamenting his impending doom brought on by hypothermia and muddy sneakers, he takes off at a brisk walk, head down, already thoroughly soaked. His teeth chatter as his feet slosh in the water pooling up on the narrow streets. The route home is long, winding through narrow streets that are thrown into shadow at this time of day. There is no subway route that would shorten the walk to his apartment building, so each day he has to tough out the long walk to and from the nearest gym.

It’s manageable on a normal day, but today, the walk seems impossible. He can barely see, the dim streetlights barely helping his eyesight that is obscured by rain. He turns onto a busier street, and starts glancing into store windows to see if he can find a place that looked hospitable. Most stores are closed, seeing as it is a Sunday evening, and he is beginning to lose hope when he stops in front of a bakery. The interior is well lit, and there is a sign on the door flipped to ‘open’. He hasn’t come across many other bakeries in Seoul, besides the token Paris Baguette in almost every district, and he doesn’t even recognize this one as a chain. He only hesitates for a moment after noticing that all the tables were completely empty, but the chill from the rain motivates him to throw the door open.

Blessed waves of warmth as well as an excess of pink immediately assault him; pink tables and chairs, pink walls and ceilings, even a pink fridge containing drinks behind the counter. An assortment of photographs of Seoul hang on the walls, depicting curved rooftops slotting against each other into the distance, streets jam-packed with people and traditional houses juxtaposed with harsh lines of the city. Each table is decorated with its own Super Mario figurine, and the front of the counter has a Mario poster on it. Which leads his gaze to the person standing behind the counter: a tall man with strikingly handsome features, wearing a pink sweatshirt (of course) and looking at him incredulously.

“I see you dressed for the weather,” the man says, eyeing him up and down.

“I— uh, its…raining,” Jimin says without thinking, and then mentally slaps himself.

“I guess I won’t be needing to mop the floors today.”

Jimin looks down in horror at the growing puddle beneath his feet, his hair and clothes dripping steadily onto the ground. “I’m so sorry, um, I can leave-“

“No, no, it’s fine,” he says with a laugh. Jimin looks up and immediately relaxes at the amused look on the stranger’s face. “It’s no problem, I usually make my roommate mop anyways.”

Jimin purses his lips. “Thanks, um, can I just stay here until the rain clears a bit? I would walk, but it’s far, and…” he vaguely gestured at his attire.

“Do you need a towel?”

Jimin blinks, taken aback. “If it’s not too much trouble…”

The man has already disappeared and Jimin wanders up to the counter, entranced by all of the different baked goods behind the glass. His stomach grumbles; he hasn’t eaten since lunch, and working out definitely took a toll on his energy.

The man comes back, holding a fluffy— and thankfully white instead of pink— towel. He hands it to Jimin. “I’m Seokjin, by the way.”

“Jimin.” He takes the towel gratefully and rubs his wet hair with it before wrapping it around his shoulders. If he thought the pastries were fascinating, they are nothing compared to Seokjin’s face up close. His eyes are a soft almond shape and his lips are full and pink, and his slightly chubby cheeks lend him some youthfulness despite his broad shoulders and considerable height.

“You can sit down,” Seokjin says with a warm smile. Jimin complies as Seokjin moves behind the counter, the clinking of ceramic mixing with the faint music playing. Jimin is distracted by replying Taehyung’s barrage of texts asking where he is, so he doesn’t realize that Seokjin is coming towards him until the latter sets down a steaming mug of hot chocolate on the table. Jimin opens his mouth to protest but Seokjin is already heading back to the counter, before coming back seconds later with a second cup and a plate with two scones on it.

Jimin gapes. “Hold on, I don’t have my wallet-“

“It’s on the house,” Seokjin says, pushing the plate towards him.

Jimin hesitantly takes the scone, and Seokjin watches him until he takes a bite. It’s soft and still hot, filling up his chilled body with much-needed warmth.

“Good?”

Jimin just nods, his mouth still full, and Seokjin chuckles. It occurs to Jimin how strange it is to be eating scones in a bakery with someone he only just met minutes ago, but he supposes that business must be slow for Seokjin and he might be thankful for the company. “Do you make these?” he asks when he finishes chewing.

“Some of them,” Seokjin says. “I have a lot of help nowadays, though.”

“Wait, so you own this place?” Jimin can’t help but ask. Seokjin definitely looks older than him, but he doesn’t look that old.

“I do,” he says, pride creeping into his voice. “I bought it from the previous owners a while back and…added a few of my own changes.” He toys with the Super Mario figure on the table.

“Wow,” Jimin says. He smiles at Seokjin. “I could eat ten of these scones.”

“The second one is for you, too,” Seokjin says. “I’ve already had dinner.”

Jimin nods gratefully, sipping at his hot chocolate.

“It looks like you came from the gym?” Seokjin says conversationally.

“I did,” Jimin says. “I’m a dancer, so I have to build up strength for that.”

“Man, dancing and hitting the gym every night? That sounds tough.”

Jimin scuffs his sneakers against the floor, embarrassed. “Most nights, yeah. It’s good to stay busy.”

“Is that your major? Dance?”

“No, I wish…I’m an economics major with a minor in dance. I mostly dance for my school’s team.”

Seokjin hums. “Would you rather dance than do business?”

Jimin looks at him, surprised at his level of questioning for a total stranger. The ‘I wish’ had slipped out of its own accord; the last thing he wanted was to seem unhappy in his current major. “Um…I guess, but economics is a good career and I really enjoy it too.”

Before he knows it, almost an hour has passed. The rain has long since died down to a drizzle, and he has learned that Seokjin not only runs the bakery, but he also is a full time graduate student at Seoul University studying to get a law degree, as well as a singer on the side, (“but I rarely sing anymore, its more of a hobby for me right now.”) It’s easy to forget that they just met; the conversation flows so naturally that Seokjin feels like an old friend. When Jimin finally checks his almost-dead phone, ignoring the ten missed calls from Taehyung, he realizes with a jolt of surprise that it’s already almost eleven pm.

“Wow, I didn’t realize how late it was.” Seokjin is glancing at his watch. “I’m sorry for keeping you so long; it looks like the weather has cleared up a bit.”

Jimin stands up, almost knocking over his chair. “Yeah, sorry, you probably want to close…Thanks for the towel and the food!”

Seokjin smiles, and stands up as well. “It was nice meeting you,” he says. “If you ever get stuck in a rainstorm again, you know where to come.”

Jimin grins at up him. “Maybe I’ll actually remember my wallet next time, too.” He glances down at his own phone, hesitating. “Do you, uh,” he tries to get out.

“Want my number? In case you get lost again, or something?”

Jimin nods, laughing nervously, and hands Seokjin his phone. The elder types it in quickly, and when he takes it back he sees Seokjin has texted himself as well. “Um, thanks again for everything!” He waves at the older boy awkwardly as he’s opening the door, and then takes off at a brisk walk, dialing Taehyung to explain what happened.

“Was he hot?” Taehyung says as he finally opens the door to their shared apartment.

Jimin shrugs. “I mean, like, I guess. He was really nice,” he says. “I’ll probably go back.”

***

“I don’t know what’s going to break first, the table or your skull,” Yoongi drawls, oblivious to the inner turmoil Jungkook is currently experiencing. Jungkook switches to flopping his head listlessly over his arm on the table, glaring sideways at a bookshelf. “I just don’t get it,” he says finally. “I explained everything. How do they expect me to be a full time student and keep up my Soundcloud and all my social media? All these core classes are so useless, when the will I need anything I learned in Intro to?”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook; you can’t learn anything if you don’t do any of the readings so I think you’re safe.”

Jungkook just groans.

“Your life must be really hard,” Yoongi says sympathetically. “I can’t imagine getting millions of YouTube hits and constant cash flow from sponsors.”

“Shut up, hyung,” Jungkook says. Yoongi knows full well what it’s like; although he doesn’t have nearly as many subscribers or Twitter followers as Jungkook, he has quite a fan base centered around his underground rapping, and is constantly producing tracks for high-profile hip-hop artists.

“Seriously, what should I do, show them my covers? Threaten to drop out?”

“Sure,” Yoongi drawls. “They would probably cry from happiness if you dropped out.”

“Don’t show them your channel,” Namjoon says, sitting down next to Yoongi. “I tried showing my professor my Instagram feed to get out of the final and I almost had to retake multi.”

“See?” Jungkook slumps further onto the desk. “This school is so ing screwed up. I should tweet about it.”

“Or don’t.” Yoongi carefully slides Jungkooks phone away from him across the table. “You’re the one who wanted to stay in school.”

“Yeah, that was before I decided to make a full album,” Jungkook says. “Plus, that last MV was such a flop, I’m definitely missing something. I need to dedicate more time to my music.”

“I don’t think it’s for lack of time,” Yoongi says, propping his feet up on the desk. “You spend enough of your day playing piano tiles to take five more classes.”

Jungkook scoffs. “You’re one to talk. When you aren’t on Kakao talk texting Hoseok hyung you’re busy writing cheesy- lyrics about him in your secret journal.”

Namjoon’s laughter covers up the sound of Yoongi cursing at Jungkook. When they’ve quieted down Yoongi leans back, refusing to meet Jungkook’s gaze, his cheeks visibly redder. “You’re such a ing brat. No wonder they won’t give you that schedule change.

***

It doesn’t take long for Bangtan Bakery to become a permanent fixture in Jimin’s routine. After he had shyly slipped in a week or so after the day of the rainsquall, only to be welcomed by Jin’s bright smile and warm brownies out of the oven, he begins stopping by more and more frequently. Even when he doesn’t need to go to the gym at night, he finds himself getting off at the subway stop closer to Jin’s bakery even though it means a significantly longer walk than he would otherwise have to take. Even if he isn’t able to stay for hours every time, he pops in to say hi at least every other day, sitting on the counter and watching Seokjin work if the shop wasn’t crowded, and just ordering a scone and sitting down at a table to wave at him every now and then if it was. By his fourth visit he receives daily snapchats from Seokjin giving him updates on the bakery and his endless amounts of schoolwork.

 

 

 

And Jimin snaps him most often from the practice room, sending shameless sweaty mirror-selfies or even videos of himself dancing. However, it's almost a month before he finds out that baking and school are not the only things Seokjin does.

 

 

Hoseok leans over Jimin's shoulder to see whom Jimin is sending their selca to and suddenly lets out a shrill scream right in Jimin's ear, snatching his phone away. He ignores Jimin's protests as he stares at the screen. "How do you know Seokjin hyung?"

Jimin blinks. "You know Seokjin?"

Hoseok laughs. "Jiminnie everyone knows Seokjin. Well, everyone knows Jin, you know, the singer?” Hoseok scrunches up his face to try to imitate what Jimin assumes is Jin’s singing, but ends up coming out as more of a nasally screech. “Girl let me know, girl let me know-“

      “Okay, you can stop,” Jimin cuts him off. “But, wait, so he owns a bakery now?”

  “He debuted under YG a few years ago but decided to switch paths and go to college for a while."

Jimin's jaw drops. "Wait, YG? Kim Seokjin?" His phone buzzes with a new snapchat and he grabs it back from Hoseok to open it.

 

"Weird," Jimin says. "Does he still perform?"

"Rarely," Hoseok says, dropping into a split on the floor of the practice room. "Just on the street in Hongdae if he feels like it. He could probably go back to it if he wanted to."

"Huh." Jimin stares at his phone. "He never mentioned it to me."

"Yeah, he's pretty happy with his bakery and school right now, so he doesn't talk about it much. Do you know him from school?"

"No…I, uh, just go to his bakery a lot." Jimin follows Hoseok onto the floor, stretching out his legs.

"Hm," Hoseok says, shooting him a grin at the slightly guilty look on Jimin’s face. "I thought you were allergic to carbs. He's good-looking, huh?"

Jimin flushes, dropping his head to his knee to further the stretch. "I mean, he's not bad-- wait, you never said how you know him."

Hoseok reaches for his iPhone to restart the music, trying to shrug nonchalantly but unable to keep the grin from creeping onto his face. "He's my roommate."

"WHAT."