“I heard that Sehun guy is running for council president this year,” says Jimin, who looks at Hoseok to confirm. They’ve returned to their usual school routine, and surround the lunch table after throwing out some casual ‘what’s going down, ers?’ and ‘your tan is absolutely ’ remarks. It’s nothing new.

                  Hoseok nods. His face is marred by sunglasses-shaped tan lines and it makes Taehyung giggle every time he speaks. “He’s got a good chance of winning, but he’s kind of notorious for bein’ stupid as . Not a lot of people like him.”

                  “Why is that?” the orange-haired boy asks while stealing some of Namjoon’s fries (‘you ate almost all of them,’ he bemoans, and Taehyung gently his hair while cooing.)

                  “He’s running unopposed,” Hoseok replies. He’s eating through his third cup of yogurt. “No one else in our grade signed up. We can’t appoint a freshman, and the seniors are graduating, obviously.”

                  “Our kids are strangely unmotivated,” Namjoon chips in.

                  “Lazy,” Taehyung says, and everyone nods. “But I mean, why don’t people like him?”

                  Hoseok blinks. “Oh. Well, he is the one moron who always yells ‘’ during presentations.”

                  The other stands from his chair in a state of total shock. “HE’S THE GUY?!”

                  “… Yeah, sure.” He makes a face. “Sit the down, people are starin’ at us.”

                  “Damn, no wonder.” Taehyung slowly slides into his seat. “I bet even Park Jimin can beat him.”

                  Jimin chokes. “… Wh-What is that supposed to mean?!”

                  Hoseok peels back another yogurt cup. “That’s a good idea, actually. I’m not sure if I can stand Sehun runnin’ our grade, and Jim would do a better job anyhoo.”

                  “J-Jim…”

                  “Exactly!” Taehyung grins while flailing his hands. “We can run his campaign! It’ll be like—!”

                  “H-Hey, I never agreed to this!”

                  “We’ll give away free socks! And, and! Our tagline will be ‘Park Jimin, savior of kitties’.”

                  “TAE!” Jimin shouts, effectively shutting him up as well as everyone else in their immediate area. “Why don’t you run for president?!”

                  The guy points at himself like an idiot. “Me?”

                  Hoseok lets out a snicker. “That’s probably a better idea. I’d vote.”

                  Jimin nods vigorously, determined to steer the topic away from himself. “A lot of people like you, Tae. It’d be an easy win.”

                  Taehyung scrunches up his face while tousling his peachy locks. “You think so?”

                  “Hoseok, why are you eating so much yogurt?” Namjoon interrupts, pointing at the rapidly growing stack of plastic cups in the corner. They turn to stare at him. Their table is starting to reek of strawberries.

                  He looks offended. “What? They were on sale, so sue me.”

                  “… Anyway.” Taehyung pulls out one of his binders and flashes his schedule. “I think I’ll be too busy to be pres. I have bio, math, and languages next semester, and with exams coming up...”

                  Hoseok guffaws. “Ha, rest in pieces. When’s your lunch period, mate?”

                  “Second period.”

                  “Oh!” He gives him a high-five. “Ey, same.”

                  Jimin frowns while gnawing on a chip. “My lunch is fourth period…”

                  “What?!” Taehyung looks aghast. “What about you, Namjoon?”

                  The Robotics leader is in the middle of inhaling the rest of his fries. He stares at them for a second while everything is transported down his throat. “… I have fourth too,” he says finally.

                  Taehyung sighs. “Wow, we’re all separated. That .”

                  “You know what even more?” Hoseok drains his last yogurt cup as the other boys gaze on in discomfort. “The fact that I have gym right after lunch. I can’t exercise after eating, that brings on the in’ cramps.”

                  “True… wait.” Taehyung squints at his schedule. “I have gym third period too.”

                  Jimin chokes on his water. “W-Wait, me too…”

                  Namjoon glances between them. “… I do too…”

                  “Are you kidding me?” Hoseok makes a face. “We’re all in the same gym class?”

                  “It must be fate!” cries Taehyung.

                  “ fate,” he retorts. “Remember what happened last year? This is going to be another semester of Jimin outshining us in literally everything and Namjoon ing up.”

                  Namjoon raises a spoon. “Yay!”

                  “You’re oddly optimistic,” Hoseok snorts. “I just dissed you.”

                  “I know,” he says. “But I’m happy to be sharing a class with you guys again.”

                  “AW!” Taehyung laughs while Jimin smiles. “Hey, speaking of which… Isn’t our basketball team playing a game in the gym today?”

                  “That’s right.” Hoseok checks the time on his phone. “It just started. Wanna go watch?”

                  “Hell yeah!” He shovels the rest of Jimin’s chips into his mouth and slides his backpack across a shoulder. “Nothing better than watching a bunch of sweaty boys running around in shorts, bouncing balls.”

                  “Gaaaay.”

                  “I’ll have to cancel.” Namjoon frowns. “I’m needed at Robotics today…”

                  Hoseok raises an eyebrow at him while gathering his empty yogurt cups. “Y’sure, mate?”

                  “Yeah, nationals are coming up and we’re stuck on a new bot design. I have to help out.”

                  “Alright, we’ll see ya later, skater.” He pats Namjoon on the face before they leave. “Good luck, kid.”

                  “Thanks, have fun.”

                  Taehyung rolls his eyes. “What are you two, married?”

--

                  Jimin flares his nostrils when he walks into his bathroom after school and finds Taehyung standing in front of the mirror, playing with his stomach fat. “… The are you doing?” he says, stepping through the cramped space to get to the toilet. “How did you get into my house before me?”

                  “Don’t you think I’m out of shape?” Taehyung asks honestly. He turns to observe his figure and frowns. “I think I put on an entire kilogram after Christmas.”

                  Jimin s his pants, kicks up the toilet seat, and relieves himself. For a moment, the sound of his piss hitting the water echoes off the tiled walls. “… A kilogram is only like, two pounds you know,” he mutters.

                  “Still, I look chubbier.” His friend looks at his stomach and compares it with his. “Does all that dancing keep your abs in check? Is it still a six-pack?”

                  “It was never a six-pack,” Jimin argues, shaking it off once he stops peeing. “… Okay, maybe a two, four-pack, maybe. But yeah, I exercise to keep up with dance. I don’t know about you, Tae.”

                  “What are you saying? You callin’ me fat?”

                  “What?”

                  “ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT, BRO?!”

                  “DON’T FIGHT ME RIGHT NOW! I NEED TO PULL MY PANTS BACK UP!”

                  Taehyung looks at the mirror and pokes his soft stomach. “I should work out. Join a team or something; those kids in the basketball game were really cool today.”

                  Jimin pulls his zipper up. After giving the toilet a good flush, he takes a look at the guy’s stomach for himself. “I think you’re good. You’re healthy, and it’s not like you do anything that requires muscle either.”

                  “Excuse—!”

                  “Gaming doesn’t count.” He gently moves him aside to use the sink. “I’d rather have you like that than— than swole.”

                  Taehyung pats his . “Okay, but can I do it for my self-esteem? I don’t wanna be beefy obviously, but at least then I can say I work out instead of lazing around all day.”

                  “Well yeah, if you put it like that…” Jimin wipes his hands on the back of his jeans. “What were you thinking of doing? Basketball?”

                  “Nah, I’m too short.”

                  “What about soccer?”

                  “I don’t have a lot of stamina.”

                  “Tennis?”

                  “No arm muscle.”

                  Jimin stares at him in distaste. “… Then what?”

                  The orange-haired boy hums. “Something that isn’t too physically demanding, is open to people of all body types, and doesn’t have a lot of running. Oh, and no uniform shorts, I don’t want to freak people out with the weird moles on the back of my leg.”

                  “… There’s no sport like that.”

                  He shrugs. “Now that I think about it, I’m already occupied with band, so realistically joining a team is a lot of work already. Flabby is here to stay!” He smacks his stomach one more time and strides out, singing the chorus of ‘It’s Raining Men’.

                  Jimin vaguely wonders if ramming his head into the wall will ease this headache. 

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