The feeling of the unicorn’s snout tickles as the pretty pink animal grazes on the fruit in Jungkook’s hand, and the sensation makes him chuckle. 

“You have a lovely laugh,” the fairy with the blue hair and mischievous grin whispers in his ear, floating just above his left shoulder. 

“Thank you; I get it from my dad, I suppose,” Jungkook tells him. 

Beep. 

Beep. 

Beep. 

Jungkook turns, startled by the obnoxious sound. 

“Do you hear that?” he questions. 

“Hear what?” the unicorn looks up, throwing the question back at him. 

“That horrible beeping sound,” he replies, looking around to find the source of the disruption. 

“I don’t hear anything,” the unicorn tells him. “But you have fed me grapes and strawberries from the Garden of Hope and have brought back my will to fly. You, Jeon Jungkook, shall be the first to ride my back.” 

“Ride your back,” Jungkook repeats slowly, the words stirring up an image he’s quite sure the unicorn did not intend. 

“Yes. You shall be the first of many riders—” 

Beep.  

Beep.  

Beep.  

“Morning Seoul, here’s what to expect on your commute this morning—”  

“What the ,” Jungkook groans, shaking his head. “You really don’t hear that?” 

“What?” the unicorn looks up, eyes wide. “Get on my back, Jungkook. Let us ride fast and hard into the distance.” 

Why does everything sound so dirty? Jungkook wonders as he stares at the magical creature. 

The fairy with the blue hair reappears, smiling widely, eyes twinkling with glee, staring wickedly at Jungkook as he sprinkles shimmery fairy dust above the unicorn’s head. 

“I know what you want, Jungkook. I know your truest desires,” the fairy says mysteriously. 

Jungkook watches in rapture as the unicorn begins to transform in front of him, body contorting as the animal changes form. Jungkook gasps. 

“Ironm—” 

BEEP.  

BEEP.  

BEEP.  

“Wake up, Seoulites! Here’s an oldie but a goodie from Super Junior to get you going on the right foot.” 

Sorry Sorry begins playing in the background, and just like that, the blue-haired fairy and the Garden of Hope have disappeared, replaced by the relentless blaring of his alarm.  

“, now I’ll never know what my truest desire is,” Jungkook complains as he groggily opens his eyes then rolls over to hit snooze.  

Dragging himself from his bed to the tiny kitchen of the two-bedroom dormitory apartment he shares with his sometimes enemy but always best friend, Jimin, Jungkook ducks just in time, barely missing the impact of the burnt toast being hurled at him.  

Apparently, they’re enemies today. 

“Do you know how many times you hit snooze on your stupid alarm?” Jimin reprimands. 

“Twice?” Jungkook responds, knowing the question is rhetorical, aware that Jimin hates it the most when people answer questions that aren’t meant to be answered. 

He chuckles when the older boy flips him the bird. 

“Hyung, how could you? I am young and impressionable. Is this really the example you want to set for me?” 

“Please, you have Seokjin for an older brother. I couldn’t corrupt you any more than he already has if I tried,” Jimin throws back, and Jungkook can’t argue with his logic. 

“Fair,” he agrees, chuckling at Jimin’s scrunched up nose. 

“Seriously though, Kook, ten times. That’s a record, even for you. What the hell were you dreaming about that you didn’t want to wake up?” 

“Ten! Wow, is it wrong that I’m lowkey impressed?” 

“Yes,” Jimin answers immediately. “Now spill.” 

“My truest desire,” his mind responds, recalling bits and pieces of his dream. 

“Oh? Interesting. What is your truest desire, Jeon Jungkook?” Jimin questions, his interest piqued. 

“I don’t know. After the unicorn turned in Ironman, I woke up before the blue-haired fairy could tell me,” he says with a forlorn sigh.  

“Blue-haired fairy, Ironman, and a unicorn? Are you sure you’re straight?” 

Jungkook laughs at his question but doesn’t answer. 

“Pretty sure it was the effect of one too many cups of ramen before bed,” he tells his friend. 

“Or one too many shots before bed,” Jimin retorts with a laugh. 

“Also fair,” Jungkook states with a shake of his head. 

“Wait. It’s before noon, why are you awake?” 

“That’s a great question, Jimin-sshi,” Jungkook starts. This time he’s not quick enough to miss the dish towel that Jimin launches in his direction. 

“Punk, I’m older than you. Show some respect.” 

“Yes, but you’re so small and squishy. It’s easy to forget,” Jungkook remarks with a loud laugh as Jimin tries but fails to give him the evil-eye. “See, even now, you’re just so cute, hyung.” 

“One day I’m going to beat the out of you for all this disrespect, but I haven’t had nearly enough coffee for it to be today. Now, why are you awake before noon on a school day?” 

“Because your stupid crush talked me into it,” Jungkook pouts. 

“Taehyung? Apologize, you scoundrel. How dare you call my Taehyungie stupid,” Jimin demands. 

“Your jerk of a crush,” Jungkook continues unscathed, “used his voodoo powers on me, with his boxy smile and his flowery words that make every bad idea sound like the most fantastic thing you’ve ever heard, and talked me into taking a seven AM dance theory lecture.” 

Jungkook should be offended by how loud Jimin’s laughter is. He should grab his tiny older friend and hold him in a headlock until he stops giggling, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Like it or not, Jimin’s mirth at his current situation is warranted. He succumbed to Taehyung’s push, and he signed up for the class. He can only blame himself. But in his defense, Taehyung’s smile is near impossible to say no to. Jimin should know this better than anyone. 

“I don’t mean to laugh,” Jimin states, holding his chest and wiping tears from his eyes. “Tae can be very persuasive, but Kook, you HATE the mornings. Like, you are the worst morning person ever. I don’t see you staying awake for a lecture at seven in the morning. I am genuinely afraid of the things that may come out of your mouth due to a lack of brain activity that early in the morning.” 

Jungkook sighs and peers over at the microwave, seeing the six-fifteen currently blaring back at him.  

“Again, this is all because of your stupid crush. I don’t even have time to enjoy a bowl of cereal with OJ. I need to go shower,” he states dejectedly as he walks out of the kitchen. 

“That’s for the best, cereal and orange juice should never be together. Gross,” he hears Jimin reply as he enters the bathroom. 

Walking across campus gives Jungkook anxiety. He’s not sure how or why his “assumed” reputation proceeds him everywhere he goes. The constant stares and lovelorn sighs are a bit much, especially since he’s done nothing that he can think of to deserve such adoration. He’s known as the Golden Boy, a nickname he did not create and finds burdensome, but one that he will use to his advantage whenever the situation calls for it.  

“Omg, he’s so fine,” Jungkook hears a girl comment as he passes by. 

“I’d smash that until he made me cry, then beg for more,” another says out loud, and Jungkook’s sure her intent was for him to hear. 

Yeah, Jungkook’s not lacking in the random hook-ups department. His social schedule is full, and he spends more time trying to get out of parties and keggers than any red-blooded twenty-year-old should. If truth be known, he’d much rather be in his dorm room sporting sweats and an extra-large white tee, snuggled up with his favorite blanket watching Goonies or Pretty in Pink. That’s not how college works though. People don’t want to know the real him; they only care about their preconceived notions about who he is, and Jungkook’s all about giving the people what they want.  

For his part, Jungkook has learned to play the role of school jock and most wanted man on campus to near perfection. He smiles as he passes the girls and tosses in a mischievous wink for good measure. The move earns him loud gasps and screams of “oh my gosh he noticed me” that follow him all the way into the hall of the Performing Arts building. 

“Dude, you’re here?” Taehyung’s voice accosts him as soon as he walks into the building. 

“You practically strong-armed me into this early morning . Why are you acting surprised?” he replies with a bit more venom than intended. 

“What? Strong-armed? I merely suggested that if you were serious about dance, you should put some time into knowing its origins and its intricacies.” 

“Right, you used your voodoo magic with big words like origins and intricacies, and now here I am, at six forty-five in the morning, barely awake and thinking of ways to pay you back for this betrayal,” Jungkook whines with a pout. 

“You will thank me for this later. Mark my words,” Taehyung chuckles, slapping Jungkook on the back as he walks him to class.  

“, he’s friends with Taehyung? How is that even fair?” Someone whispers entirely too loudly as he and Taehyung pass by. 

“I know, right? How are mere mortals meant to function with so much beauty this early in the morning?” 

Taehyung chuckles as Jungkook rolls his eyes.  

“It’s too damn early in the morning for this much adoration,” he grumbles as he opens the door to his class. 

“Be nice,” Taehyung scolds jokingly. “When we’re old and fat, we can sit on our porch yelling at kids to get off our grass and relive our glory days. Anyways, have fun in class, Kook. I’ll catch up with you later.” 

Jungkook enters the auditorium and is immediately surprised by how full the room is. Given the ungodly hour in the morning, Jungkook expects to be the only one in attendance. He takes a seat near the back, chucking his backpack into the seat on his right and his letterman jacket in the one on the left, hoping to deter anyone looking to befriend him this early in the morning. Rummaging through his bookbag, he pulls out a notebook and a pen and readies himself as best he can before the lecture starts.  

A few minutes later, the Professor arrives, and Jungkook chuckles to himself at how apropos the man seems for his position. Tall and distinguished-looking with round glasses that sit right on the bridge of his nose. The man is wearing a tweed jacket with a black Rolling Stones t-shirt underneath; his blue jeans are just the right amount of crushed to be trendy but not untidy, the look complete with black chucks. The man is every eighties movie “cool professor” personified, and Jungkook thinks maybe, just maybe, his seven in the morning class won’t be that bad. 

“Morning all,” the teacher’s deep baritone rings throughout the room. “Thank you all for signing up and forcing me to get up before God intended. I am Professor So Ji-sub, and welcome to Theories of Dance 101. In this course, we will look at the history of dance and see the role it plays in shaping history.” 

Professor So continues giving them an overview of the course and what to expect. Jungkook zones out as the man talks, his mind wandering back to his warm bed, saddened that he is not in it right now. 

“My TA, Jung Hoseok, will be passing out the syllabus. Make sure to pay close attention to due dates. I don’t offer extensions. I’m here to teach you, not baby you. Get your work in on time.” 

Professor So’s tone has Jungkook looking up, and this, this is his first mistake of many. 

“Wait, what sorcery is this? Jeon Jungkook is on time to practice,” Jimin fakes astonishment as Jungkook strolls into the rehearsal room. 

“Despite the propaganda that you spread about me, Park Jimin, I’m a very responsible individual who takes practice seriously,” he responds, tone stoic, causing Jimin to cackle loudly.  

“Okay, but seriously, why are you on time? Is there a zombie apocalypse outside? Were you being chased by undead females with stars in their glazed over eyes? Tell me the truth,” Jimin teases and Jungkook sticks his tongue out in response like the adult he is.  

“Why are we friends?” 

“Because I let you snuggle me on the couch while watching eighties flicks,” Jimin tells him. 

“Mmm, okay, so you’re useful.”  

Jimin ignores the comment. 

“How was your super-duper  early-o’clock class?” 

Jungkook stiffens at the question, eyes focused on the ground beneath his feet as he mumbles, “It came and went.”  

“Wha-“ Jimin starts but is cut off. 

The dance instructor walks into the room, commanding Jimin’s attention, and Jungkook breathes a sigh of relief, happy to focus on something other than what went down in his Dance Theory lecture.  

Dancing is Jungkook’s escape from life; it’s the one place he feels most like himself. Getting lost in the rhythm is free therapy. Beads of sweat drip down his face as the class runs through the moves for the seventh time since learning the steps. Jungkook’s black tee clings to his damp skin, his breathing becoming labored as the burn in his muscles set in. He loves this feeling the most, his muscles throbbing as they commit the dance to memory. Jungkook smiles despite himself, and the sweet sensation of freedom sweeps over him.  

Sitting with his back leaned about against the practice mirror, he chugs the bottle of water Jimin tossed in his direction several minutes ago. 

“You heading back to the dorm?” Jimin asks after finishing his water. 

“Mmm, I have some reading to do,” he answers quickly. 

“I’m gonna meet Tae for a bit to eat and maybe a movie. You can come if you want,” Jimin extends the invitation. 

“Nah, I’m drained. Gonna go home and veg for a bit, and get this reading done for my econ class.” 

“Yuck, math,” Jimin grimaces, and Jungkook chuckles. 

“It’s not so bad, hyung. Plus, the only reason I’m able to take dance as a major was by promising my parents I would double major in something else that I can make a living at,” he tells his friend, making air quotes with his fingers. 

“Yes, but on top of a double major, you play lacrosse and run track. I get that you’re a jock, Kook, but don’t kill yourself to prove yourself to your family,” Jimin admonishes, a hint of worry in his voice.  

“Don’t worry, hyung, I got this. Plus, check out these guns,” he teases, flexing his arm.  

“It’s such a shame that this body is being wasted on a heteroual,” Jimin says with a sigh, before getting up and grabbing his workout bag and bidding Jungkook goodbye.  

“See you later, hyung,” he calls after the older boy, who responds by throwing back a wave.  

After practice, Jungkook arrives at his dorm worn out by the events of the day. He has put so much energy into not thinking about the absolute he made of himself during class that now it all seems to be catching up to him. He walks into his room, dropping his overweight book and gym bags on the ground before tossing himself on his bed with a loud plop. He wants to scream, but that would risk the dorm resident coming to check on him, and honestly, he’s not prepared to explain himself to anyone. 

“Stupid ing TA,” he groans, dragging his pillow over to cover his face. 

Looking up is Jungkook’s first mistake, but glancing in the direction of the TA? Well, that is the nail in his newly constructed Jung  Hoseok shaped coffin. The man is, in a word, well, lovely. The first thing Jungkook notices is  Hoseok’s smooth, blemish-free skin. It looks soft, alluring, and inviting, even from this distance at the back of the lecture hall. Jungkook has an uncontrollable desire to get up from his seat and run to the front of the room just to trace his fingers along the man’s prominent jawline.   

“Well , I am so screwed,” he says under his breath when Hoseok, the god-tier TA, renders his mind blank when he graces the class with an awe-inspiring smile as he introduces himself.  

“Morning everyone,” the TA greets. “As Professor So said, my name is Hoseok, Jung  Hoseok. I’m a final year dance major. I took this class during my first year, and it helped lay the groundwork for the rest of my school life. I know it’s early in the morning, but don’t blow off this class. I guarantee you’ll regret it if you do.”  

“Okay,” Professor So, jumps back into the class details as he instructs Hoseok to hand out the syllabus.   

Jungkook’s eyes follow the TA like a hawk watching its prey. Everything about Hoseok wakes Jungkook up. His heart is beating three times the normal rate, and words that he knows and regularly uses now seem like a foreign language. Hoseok hands a stack of syllabi to two students at the front of the class.  

“Everyone, please take one and pass it along. If it runs out, let me know,”  Hoseok singsongs, and Jungkook wonders how someone’s voice can hold so much melody so early in the morning.  

He’s watching the TA so intensely,  he doesn’t realize the syllabus never makes it to his row.  

“Excuse me, Hoseok- sshi,” the girl to the left of Jungkook calls out to the man. “We didn’t get a syllabus.”  

Hoseok looks up and then, then, without warning, it happens. The TA turns his head to the right and catches Jungkook staring. Their eyes lock, and for a brief moment, everything stops. Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat. He’s not sure if he’s breathing to be very frank.  Hoseok smiles at him and Jungkook’s mind goes blank.  

He watches in a mixture of horror and excitement as the man begins to walk up the stairs on Jungkook’s side of the room.  The thumping of his heart is deafening, and Jungkook does a quick scan of the room, wondering if anyone else can hear.   

“Hi,” Hoseok says as he leans over the seat to Jungkook’s right to hand him a stack of syllabi. “Mind passing this along for me?”  

And Jungkook balks, not so much in resistance to helping but because none of his faculties are working.   

There are two things that most people don’t know about Jungkook. One is that he loves eighties teen flicks. He blames this addiction squarely on the shoulders of his older brother, Seokjin, who wanted to be an actor when growing up and would force a very young Jungkook to watch movies and exchange lines with him. The second thing that most people don’t know about Jungkook is that when he’s nervous and searching for the right thing to say, he will inadvertently quote movie lines. Right now, Jungkook is beyond nervous, and as hard as he tries to keep his lips from moving and his mouth from speaking, he answers Hoseok’s question. Well, sort of.  

“I don’t want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don’t want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I  don’t want to do that,” the words fall out of his mouth like water flowing from a  broken faucet, leaving Jungkook mortified.   

To say that Jungkook is embarrassed would be an understatement. Currently, he’s silently praying for the ground beneath his feet to open up and swallow him, to save him from speaking anymore for the rest of his unholy life. He expects the TA to scold him, to tell him Dance Theory is not a place for people who can’t take it seriously. But to his surprise, one of many when it comes to Jung Hoseok, the man laughs heartily.  

“Did you just quote Say Anything to me?” the TA asks,  and all Jungkook can do is stare at the man, dumbfounded.   

Jungkook has a plan, albeit a bad one. He will not be undone. No TA, no matter how nice his skin may be, is going to take down the great Jeon Jungkook. Okay, yes, he’s being dramatic, but there are times in life when drama is needed, and this, in Jungkook’s humble and slightly delusional opinion, is such a time. Dance theory is not going to make or break his college career, he speculates. He doesn’t technically need the class to graduate.  

Therefore, it must go.  

The next day Jungkook finds himself sitting in the registrar’s office, twiddling his thumbs as the women peers over his class schedule, thick pink glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Every few seconds, she looks up and makes a clicking sound with her tongue; the action is causing Jungkook’s anxiety to heighten.  

“I’m afraid,” she says after several minutes. “If you want to graduate on time, you’ll have to continue with this class. You need an elective this semester to stay on track. The only courses open now are Beekeeping 101 and Patternmaking for Dog Garments.” 

“Patterns for dogs,” he repeats in disbelief. “Why are those even an option?” 

“Don’t judge, Mr. Jeon. College is about diversity and finding one's self. Some people make clothing for dogs, others dance. Is this so hard to understand?” the woman scolds, and Jungkook grimaces inwardly. 

“There’s really nothing that can be done?” Jungkook asks.  

He considers begging, claiming some sort of mental block to getting up at that hour in the morning. But he’s sure she’d see right through it; her glasses are incredibly thick. 

“I’m afraid not,” she tells him with finality. 

Jungkook leaves the office feeling defeated. He’s not sure what his next course of action will be, but he’s damn sure it will not involve him seeing Jung Hoseok’s magnificent smile. Especially at a time in the morning when all his defenses are down.  

“Why does it even bother me?” he asks under his breath as he trots across campus. “Like, he’s a guy and I’m a guy. Guys don’t make other guys flustered. It has to be the time; nobody’s brain is awake at that ungodly hour.” 

“Are you talking to yourself now?” Taehyung questions. 

“Where da’ did you come from?” Jungkook asks, startled at his friend’s sudden appearance. 

“From there,” Taehyung tells him, pointing to the sky, mischievous grin on his face.  

“Ha ha, very funny.” 

“I know, right? My sense of humor is top tier,” Taehyung teases. “Anyway, why are you mumbling to yourself like a crazy person?” 

“I was not,” Jungkook counters defensively. 

“Uhm, you one hundred percent were,” Taehyung throws back. 

He knows he can’t argue and sighs. 

“I just have a lot going on,” he tells Taehyung. 

“Like what?” the boy persists. 

“Not in the mood to talk about it right now,” he states, straightforward, hoping Taehyung takes the hint. 

Jungkook knows its wishful thinking because Taehyung’s never been good at hints. 

“Okay,” Taehyung tells him, and Jungkook eyes the man in shock. 

“Really?” 

“Mhmm, really,” Taehyung confirms. “I’ll get it out of you later anyway, so I can wait.” 

Jungkook pouts, because one, Taehyung is right, and two, Taehyung is right.  

“Why are we friends, again?” he asks. 

“Because Jimin loves me, and you love Jimin. Therefore, you love me. Oh, , how’s it two already? I gotta go, I have office hours today. A TA’s work is never done,” Taehyung complains with a pout. “Hey, Jimin and I are going out tonight, wanna come?” 

“Mmm, maybe,” he says. “I need a distraction.” 

“Yes, let’s it up,” Taehyung yells excitedly, causing people to stare in their direction. 

“Geesh, hyung, keep it down.” 

Taehyung chuckles, landing a slap on Jungkook’s back before turning to leave. 

The bar is loud and hot. Sweaty bodies of various shapes and sizes are packed together like sardines in the large open room. Some are swaying to the music, dancing, laughing, trying to make a connection. Others are standing at the bar, drink in hand as they survey the landscape. The girl currently hanging on Jungkook’s left arm, who’s begging but not succeeding in convincing him to take her for a spin on the dance floor, is pretty in a generic way, large eyes, delicate skin, and silky hair. She’s the barbie to his Ken, in the looks department, but in every other way, Jungkook’s just not feeling it.  

“Come on, Kook, let’s dance,” she whines for the umpteenth time.  

He doesn’t know her name, and he’s not looking to find out. But it doesn’t surprise him that she knows his. Jungkook’s used to it, girls throwing themselves at him, working hard to secure his attention. It wasn’t always this way; growing up, he was shy, a loner. Talking to girls made him nervous and uncomfortable. In high school, his persona changed, even if his inner self didn’t. He was still shy, still a loner, only now people mistook his shyness for aloofness, thus creating his reluctant cold, heart-breaking bad boy status. His brother Seokjin attributes it to his muscles and the fact that “you have to be good looking, we’re related.” 

It’s all an act, and Jungkook, being the professional actor that he is, plays his role to perfection. Downing the last drop of beer in his mug, he grabs her hand, pulling her to the center of the room toward the dance floor. He came here for a distraction, and she’s as good as any, he guesses. The girl giggles, nibbling at his ear as they walk toward the crowded dance floor.  

“ing finally,” she whispers huskily. 

Jungkook’s about to respond when something in his peripheral vision demands his attention. 

He turns. 

This is his second mistake.  

Jungkook’s not sure what causes him to look. Maybe it’s destiny. Perhaps somewhere in the recesses of his mind he heard the sound, a familiar gravely tone mixed with sugary sweetness. It’s a noise that has become familiar enough to keep him up at night (even if he doesn’t admit it), causing him to question all he thought he knew about himself. 

It’s him, the TA with the disarming smile. That one that caught Jungkook’s reference to Say Anything and didn’t look at him like he was an alien from another planet after he’d inadvertently blurted out the most inappropriate movie quote as a response to the man’s question. 

“,” Jungkook chokes out.  

He needs to bail before he’s seen.  

“What’s wrong,” she asks, tugging him back toward the center of the room. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he answers a bit too hastily, causing the girl’s eyebrows to arch curiously. “Let’s just dance.” 

“Okay.” She smiles and allows him to pull her into the center of the floor. 

They hide among the sea of bodies, and Jungkook tries to push Jung Hoseok’s distracting grin and kind eyes out of his mind. It works, somewhat. They dance until Jungkook’s nearly out of breath. His body feels liquidy. Sweat drips down his temples.  

“I need a drink. You want anything?” he asks. 

“No, thank you. Just hurry back. I like the feel of you against me,” she tells him with a suggestive grin.  

The bar is swarmed with people. Jungkook pushes his way through the barricade of bodies until he makes it to the counter. The bartender is taking another order; he peruses the drink options while he waits. 

“Hey, I know you,” the voice to his right has Jungkook panicking. 

He’d forgotten, well almost forgotten, about the TA. His TA, Jung Hoseok, Mr. Big Smiles and bright eyes. 

“Jungkook, right? Jeon Jungkook, from Dance Theory, right?” Hoseok asks. 

It’s a simple enough question. One that any normal person with normal responses could answer. But Jungkook it turns out is NOT normal. The words come out of his mouth before he can stop them and before he can escape. 

“Have you ever considered piracy? You’d make a wonderful Dread Pirate Roberts,” he replies as he screams furiously on the inside.  

Jungkook’s praying, hoping the words in his head didn’t make it past his lips. 

They did. 

He looks up, ready to apologize, but instead of judgmental eyes or quizzical glares, Jungkook sees a genuine smile on Hoseok’s face, a smile so captivating the urge to reach out and touch the man is even more intense than it was during his class.  

“Princess Bride?” Hoseok asks with a cute chuckle, head cocked to the side. 

“Well ,” is all Jungkook can respond before making a beeline through the crowd and getting the hell out of dodge. 

That night, as Jungkook lies in bed recapping the events of the evening, he comes up with a plan. It’s a lousy plan, possibly the dumbest of his life, but his sanity depends on it. He can’t, will not,  continue to be flustered and flabbergasted by his smiley TA. He’s ing Jeon Jungkook, the crusher of hearts and lover of eighties movies. He will survive and beat the system . How? Simple, he’s not going to class. He'll show up for tests and will get his assignments in on time, but he will not be subjected to dangerously bright sunshine smiles and y, gravelly tones at an hour in the morning when his brain cannot fight back. He will buck the system. The man will not keep him down.  

Thus begins Operation: Avoid Jung Hoseok. It turns out the universe has a ed-up sense of humor, and Jungkook’s the of the joke. His plan to not see Hoseok by ditching class has now turned into Operation: Jokes On You, Jung Hoseok’s Everywhere. Before first encountering the too happy TA in his early morning class, Jungkook had never seen the man before, not once, ever. Now, now that he knows of Hoseok’s existence, the man is everywhere. At Jungkook’s favorite bubble tea spot, talking to another teacher in the bleachers during Lacrosse training, and walking into the practice room next to his, as Jungkook makes his way into the Fine Arts Building for practice.  

Jung Hoseok is quite literally omnipresent.  

Jungkook feels like he’s going crazy. 

THE  NOT A CONFESSION, CONFESSION  

Waking up, Jungkook groggily surveys his environment. He’s in a bit of a daze, worn out from the previous night's activities. It takes him a moment to realize the room he’s in isn’t his own. Sitting up in the bed, he sees the outline of his latest partner snuggled under the blanket to his right. The girl’s wavy blonde hair fans out across the pillow. He groans inwardly remembering the night before. Stretching a bit, he winces in pain, his bones aching from overuse. Moving stealthily, he tries to escape the bed without waking up the sleeping girl. After several minutes he gains his freedom, and to his great relief, his bedmate is none the wiser.  

Tiptoeing around the room, he goes on a hunt for his discarded clothing, retrieving his boxers, oversized white tee, and black skinny jeans in record time. Dressing swiftly, Jungkook contemplates writing the girl a note before ducking out, but he decides against it, not wanting her to read more into their hook-up than he intends. Despite Jungkook’s reputation as the school’s jock and heartthrob, random hook-ups are not his thing. But the last couple of weeks have been hellish, and he needs to destress.  

is fun, a lot of fun, but no matter how much he enjoys himself in the moment, the aftermath always finds him feeling a bit empty, never fully satisfied. There’s still a hunger, a longing for something more, something to meet the need that Jungkook can’t quite identify. As he slips out of his partner’s dorm room to begin his walk of shame, he wonders for the millionth time what he needs, what he wants, and why with pretty girls is not enough. 

The walk home does nothing to cure Jungkook’s mood. He still feels empty, hungry, and needy. Sighing, he fishes through the pocket of his jeans for his dorm key. The room is dark as he enters, the light from the hall providing just enough illumination for Jungkook to see that someone, probably Taehyung, is sleeping on the couch. He’s tired, cranky, and not in the mood to answer any questions. Jungkook tries his best to make as little noise as possible as he closes the door behind him, but his shoelaces are untied. As he steps further into the foyer he trips over them, and the door slips out of his hand, slamming with a loud, BAM! Rousing Taehyung from his slumber. 

“Damn it to hell,” Jungkook hisses when he sees his friend jump up from his sleep. 

“What the ,” Taehyung yips, clearly startled. 

“Sorry, sorry, I tripped, and it slipped, and—. Sorry,” Jungkook apologizes.  

“Oh, it’s you. Thank goodness,” Taehyung offers with a sigh of relief. “I thought Slender Man had finally come to get me.” 

“Slender man? Wait, nope,” he thinks better of the question when he notices Taehyung’s mouth beginning to move. “I don’t want to know.” 

“Fine, but it’s a riveting tale,” Taehyung teases. “What time is it anyway?” 

“Uhm, four thirty-seven,” Jungkook replies, looking at his watch. 

“In the morning? Dude, why are you home so late? Don’t you, like, have class in three hours?” 

“Not really, I haven’t gone in a couple of weeks,” he answers casually and immediately realizes his mistake.  

Jungkook’s hand flies to his mouth as he silently berates himself for blurting out a response. Part two of Operation: Avoid Jung Hoseok was making sure no one, especially TA Kim Taehyung, knew he was, uhm, avoiding Jung Hoseok. He blames his impulse answer on lack of sleep. 

“,” Jungkook curses into his hand. 

“You haven’t gone to class? Why? Is everything okay? Did someone do something to you?” Taehyung questions, and the concern in the man’s tone has Jungkook feeling a bit endeared.  

“No, no, not really. I mean, it’s because of someone, but, uhm—the thing is,” Jungkook starts but realizes all too soon he has nowhere to go with the statement.  

How does one tell a friend you’re not going to class because the TA’s too happy and it irks you? One doesn’t because it’s a stupid reason. Jungkook looks up. Taehyung’s staring, eyebrows arched in that way that says  I’m not gonna ask again, but I’m gonna glare at you until you feel so uncomfortable you have to answer. Taehyung has mastered this look, and Jungkook feels his defenses caving. Panic sets as he tries to figure out an answer. His lips move on their own accord. 

“It's not that I condone fascism, or any -ism for that matter. -Isms, in my opinion, are not good. A person should not believe in an -ism, he should believe in himself. I quote John Lennon: 'I don't believe in Beatles, I just believe in me.' Good point there. After all, he was the walrus. I could be the walrus. I'd still have to bum rides off of people.”  

“Ooh, it must be really bad if you’re quoting old movie lines at me. Okay, fess up, why are you not going to class?” Taehyung’s tone takes a stern turn. 

“It’s not my fault. It’s not,” Jungkook finally breaks. 

The last two weeks have been more stressful than helpful. The universe seems to be conspiring against Jungkook. He watches helplessly as his plan to avoid Hoseok gets derailed. The TA is quite literally everywhere, and there appears to be no escaping him. And damn it to hell if he doesn’t bring his devasting smile and sing-song voice along with him. How is Jungkook supposed to find his calm when the thing that disrupts it is everywhere? 

“Look, first of all, I wouldn’t have even been in this predicament if not for you,” he accuses Taehyung. 

Taehyung looks at him in shock, a hand flying up as he points his finger toward his face as though saying, me?  

“Yes, freaking you. You, you and your ability to make bad ideas sound good. It was a bad idea to take a seven AM class. But, but you know what’s an even worse idea?” Jungkook’s on a roll, his voice growing progressively louder the more worked up he gets. “The ing worst idea ever was having the world’s most cheerful TA assist the Professor. Like, who the hell thought that was okay? Clearly they’ve never seen this man smile. It’s devasting. It’s all sunshine and rainbows and makes your heart beat fast and your brain stop working. No one, and I mean no one, should be subjected that at seven in the morning.” Jungkook pauses to take a breath. “How am I supposed to concentrate with the sun shining in my eyes like that. Who the smiles so brightly that early in the morning?” 

He doesn’t need to look at Taehyung to realize he’s said too much. The awkward silence that hangs in the air is enough of an indication. He hears Taehyung inhale and then exhale, as though it’s taking everything in him to process what Jungkook has word-vomited on him.  

“Wait, so the reason you’re not going to class is that you—wait…I need to sit down. , how did I, the great detective, the all-seeing, all-knowing radar of the gayness, not see this before?” Taehyung blurts excitedly, and Jungkook’s internal freakout reaches an all-new high. 

“Wh-what?! D-d-do what--what are you saying?” Jungkook barely stutters out the question, his heart quaking in his chest, and the sound is deafening.  

Bubble Boy is Hoseok’s favorite bubble tea place. He discovered it in his Sophomore year when Namjoon dragged him there because he had a crush on one of the cashiers. In fact, now that Hoseok thinks about, as he sips on his melon and lime with extra tapioca balls, almost all of his favorite places have been to due Namjoon’s infatuation with someone.  

Settling into his seat, Hoseok makes himself comfortable as he pulls a stack of papers out of his messenger bag. He has a TA office for work such as this, but he hates being cooped up in a tiny office where the four walls feel like they’re closing in on him. He prefers open spaces filled with people and activity. Shutting out the noise of the events going on around him to concentrate on the task at hand gives him a sense of power. His phone buzzes, jumping on the table, stealing his attention. 

Hoseok chuckles at Namjoon’s lack of a comeback. Kim Namjoon usually is very quick with his witty retorts, except when the subject matter is Kim Seokjin. This topic leaves the man rattled, and Hoseok takes every chance he’s given to fluster his friend.  He knows Namjoon is currently reading his text and trying to formulate a reply but failing miserably.  

Hoseok’s can’t help but note the irony unfolding before him. Him calling out Namjoon only to have the object of his, well, infatuation enter the tea shop, throwing him completely off-kilter. ‘No, no, not an infatuation per se,’ Hoseok whispers under his breath, correcting his thoughts. He doesn’t even know the kid. Interest, yes, he’s interested in the kid, uhm, as a person, of course. It has nothing to do with the cute blush that colored his skin the one and only time he showed up for class. Nor does it have to do with Jeon Jungkook (yes, Hoseok looked him up, for academic purposes, of course), being so flustered that he answered him with a very inappropriate, albeit hilarious, movie quote.  

No, none of those are the reason Hoseok’s interested. His interests are purely professional. As the TA, he wants to make sure Jeon Jungkook (he really likes that name) gets everything out of his Theory of Dance class. Hoseok had almost forgotten about Namjoon, as he silently fumes at the female cashier who’s fawning over the cute jock, but his phone vibrating wildly against the table brings the man back to memory. 

Ducking just in time, Hoseok avoids any awkward meetings between him and Jungkook. He definitely will confront the boy about missing class, but now is not the time. He turns around as the boy rushes past him, watching with a keen eye as Jungkook disappears through the door, almost running. He wonders if the younger man saw him, but he doubts it. Picking up his melon-lime tea once again, he pushes thoughts of Jungkook and Capuchin monkeys out of his mind. He has papers to grade.  

The next time Hoseok spies Jungkook is a few days after the bubble tea shop. He bumps into his Arts and Life professor on his way out after finishing his office hours. 

“Professor Chang, hello sir,” he greets the older man, extending his hand with a bow. 

“Hoseok-sshi, hello, nice to see you again,” the man returns the greeting. “Actually, I’m happy I bumped into you. I want to talk to you about your presentation. The topic is a bold choice. Merging music with different forms of art is an ambitious endeavor. Are you sure you’ll be able to pull it together in time for the due date?”  

The man questions as he continues to walk, and Hoseok has no choice but to follow, given that the conversation could impact his grade. 

“I do, sir,” he assures the teacher. “I’ve put a lot of thought into this, and my research is solid, if I do say so myself. Music is art with melody and rhythm. As I began to dig deeper into my topic, I realized all art has a melody and rhythm. Even if it’s not audible, it still very present.” 

“Hmm,” the man hums, and he finally comes to a halt.  

Hoseok realizes they’re in the bleachers of the school’s sports complex. He hadn’t been paying attention as he trailed behind the man, trying to keep up. He looks around, confused by the location. 

“I’m the coach of the junior soccer team,” the man answers, and Hoseok thinks he sees the question on his face. 

“Ahh,” he says with a nod of his head. “I hope you’ll approve my subject matter, sir. I promise it will be worth your time.” 

“Oh, I’m very much looking forward to it, Hoseok-sshi. My purpose in this conversation is to let you know I’m very impressed with the way you view art, more precisely, your art. I appreciate that you realize art is not an isolated event. While each form can stand on its own, art is meant to be enjoyed collaboratively, each highlighting the best in the other,” the man informs him. “I am very excited to see what you do with this piece.” 

Hoseok can’t help his smile; it feels like it’s taking up his entire face.  

“Thank you so much, sir. I promise I will put a hundred and ten percent of my energy into this performance,” he tells the man as he bows. 

“I expect nothing less from you. Thank you for allowing me to take up your time, Hoseok-sshi,” his teacher says with a small wave as he turns to walk toward the changing room. 

“Any time, sir,” he calls after the man. 

Hoseok stays until his professor disappears into the tunnel-like walkway. He’s on cloud nine, filled with giddy excitement at his professor’s confidence in him. His gaze falls on the field in front of him, and to his surprise, there, not three feet from him, stands Jeon Jungkook, looking every bit the college heart-throb jock Hoseok first pegged him as. The boy’s just this side of too long hair is clinging to his forehead, and sweat is dripping down his body, tracing along his muscular arms which are on full display thanks to the low cut tank top he’s sporting. Hoseok’s eyes feel as though they’re glued to Jungkook’s glistening skin, his stare so intense, he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. 

Maybe Jungkook not showing up for lectures is not a bad thing, he thinks to himself as he watches the man run down the field, lacrosse stick in his hand, overtaking his opponent with such force Hoseok audibly gasps. Today, it turns out, is also not the day to approach Jungkook about his absence from class. Hoseok feels a sense of awe and pride when Jungkook scores the first goal of the practice. The “yeah” that escapes his lips is entirely unexpected, and Hoseok leaves the field immediately after his outburst, embarrassed even though he wasn’t caught.  

Hoseok doesn’t believe in fate, but his third Jungkook sighting leaves him wondering if he should. Being a TA is not Hoseok’s final stage; it’s a means to an end. The job allows him access to the practice rooms after hours as well as teaching tools and techniques usually only bestowed on teachers and professors. It’s nowhere near closing hours when he enters the Fine Arts building heading toward practice room B.  

Just before he reaches the door, he stops at the bulletin board. Swinging his messenger bag to the front, he rummages through the pocket, looking for his flyers. Dancing is not just a passion for Hoseok. He hopes to make a living at it someday. First, by joining a dance troupe, and then once he’s earned enough money, opening up a dance studio in his hometown. Just thinking about the dream puts a smile on his face.  

He looks over the flyer one final time before hanging it on the board. He’s auditioning dancers to help in his recitals for his senior final. He hopes the applicants are as serious about dance and art as he is, he may be smiley and happy in life, but when it comes to dancing, well, Hoseok admits he’s kind of a dictator. He’s perusing the other leaflets when he hears footsteps coming in his direction. The person sounds like they’re running, possibly late for practice. He hopes whoever it makes it on time, and he takes the two steps necessary to enter his practice room. Curiosity, for whatever reason, gets the best of him, and Hoseok peeks around the side of the door to see who the later comer is. 

“Of course it is,” is all he can say to himself as he sees Jungkook, in sweats and a baggy white tee, heading into the practice room right next to his. 

The boy pauses on a dime the moment their eyes meet, and a shudder runs down Hoseok’s spine, gluing his feet to the ground under them. Neither of them say anything, not even a nod of acknowledgment passes between them.  

“Kook,” someone yells from inside the room, commanding Jungkook’s attention.  

 “You little ,” Jungkook says with a crooked smile as he enters the room, leaving Hoseok alone in the hall. 

After he enters practice room B, Hoseok wonders to himself if Jungkook dances with as much force and power as he plays sports. He wouldn’t doubt it. The man is the living, breathing definition of the term golden boy. For not the last time, Hoseok pushes Jeon Jungkook out of his mind as he turns on the music and gets lost in the beat. 

Hoseok doesn’t believe in fate, but when Jungkook’s name falls from Kim Taehyung’s lips, he can’t even be surprised. 

Two Days  Prior   

Jimin has a crush, and it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. Taehyung, Jimin thinks, may be blind. Despite all his unsubtle, nonverbal hints, the slightly younger man has yet to catch on to Jimin’s feelings. The situation is both frustrating and endearing.  

“Jimin, Jimin, Jimin, oh my ghhoooood!” Taehyung screeches excitedly as he enters his room. “You will never ing believe what Jungkook confessed, well not confess, but he didn’t deny, which is the same as confessing.” 

“Huh?”  

Most conversions with Taehyung start like this, with Jimin in utter confusion. Taehyung’s like an excited puppy dog, jumpy, yipping with energy, and Jimin just wants to drown in it, whether he knows what’s going on or not. 

“Kook, our Jungkookie, has a crush on his TA. His very male TA,” Taehyung informs him as he throws himself into Jimin’s lap. 

Jimin doesn’t answer immediately, momentarily stunned by Taehyung’s closeness. He should be used to it, Taehyung’s affinity for human contact, but it throws him every time.  

“Wait, come again? Jungkook has a what on who?” his mind finally registers what his crush said. 

“I said, Jungkook, The Jeon Jungkook, he of big muscles and bunny smiles, has a crush on his TA, who happens to be my friend Jung Hoseok,” Taehyung repeats.  

“How do you know this?” 

“Remember the night we all went out to drink and dance?” 

“Hmm,” Jimin hums. 

“Well, Kook came home super earl—or would that be considered late?” Taehyung surmises talking to himself. Jimin chuckles as the boy shakes his hea