The first semester wraps up and disappears into a distant point in everyone’s memory banks, making way for the breath of fresh air that is semester two. Except to Jimin, it smells less like fresh air and more like the dank, rancid stench of the boys’ change room. As Hoseok would say (and as he’s been saying for the past ten minutes), ‘lovely’.

                  It’s a new day when their squad reunites not at their usual lunch table, but in a room with at least twenty other guys simultaneously stripping for gym clothes. It’s definitely not in Jimin’s best interest, but Taehyung manages to ease the situation by announcing that he’d made the ping pong team to no one in particular.

                  Jimin is surprised because in his eyes, his best friend can’t really be considered an athlete; whenever the Olympics are mentioned, Taehyung’s mind always goes to the ‘World Cyber Games’. Then again, table tennis is perfect for an endearingly average guy like him.

                  “Congrats,” he says while they’re walking into the gymnasium. The rest of their classmates are taking their sweet time to change into shorts so they’re waiting for class for start. “You finally joined something you wanted to do.”

                  Taehyung flashes a bright grin. “Hell yeah! All we’ve been doing so far is play pong with each other, but we’ll get into some official games eventually. Still, it’s so much better than band.”

                  Jimin laughs while patting him on the arm. “I’m happy for you, man.” A couple guys from another gym class pass by and he thinks he hears one of them mutter, ‘gay’. He ignores it when he sees Hoseok sprinting out of the change room.

                  “Here,” their friend gasps, handing Taehyung a pair of glasses. “Hide this.”

                  The orange-haired boy stares at them. “Are these—?”

                  Namjoon barrels out of the same door, squinting for dear life. “Hoseok—! My glasses! I can’t see—!”

                  Hoseok bursts out laughing and takes off to run laps. Taehyung chuckles at a stumbling Namjoon for a bit before Jimin makes him return his glasses. “A whole semester of this,” the latter groans, right before their teacher squawks at them to start running.

                  --

                  “Your dodge ball skills are still on point,” Taehyung breathes while fanning himself. They’ve left class ten minutes early because they haven’t bothered to change out of their shirts and shorts. “How are you so slick?”

                  Jimin finds his locker in the middle of a row. “I told you, I exercise to keep up with dance.”

                  “Yeah, but you’re like some kind of dodge ball god.”

                  “I wasn’t the one who yelled ‘this is Sparta’ in the middle of the game.”

                  “True, true.” Taehyung leans against a locker while Jimin fumbles with his lock. “So what are you getting Yoongi?”

                  He glances at him. “What do you mean?”

                  “What are you getting him for Valentine’s Day?” he clarifies, taking a gulp from his water bottle.

                  Jimin continues on staring. “… It’s Valentine’s Day?”

                  Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Well, no. It’s on Saturday, so the council’s been putting up events all week. That’s why there are heart balloons and stuff everywhere, .”

                  “Oh.” He frowns. “To be honest, I don’t think he’s the type of guy who’d do that kind of thing.”

                  “But the real question is—!” Taehyung points at him. “Are you the type of guy who would do that kind of thing?”

                  “… Am I?”

                  “Are you?!”

                  Jimin frowns again. “What’s my locker combination?”

                  Taehyung palms his face before reciting, “eleven—thirty-three—twelve.” He shakes his head when the other boy finally yanks his locker open. “Did you get any chocolate today?”

                  “Yeah, actually… I was wondering what the occasion was.” He fishes two boxes from his bag, pink and blue respectively, and slides them into the shelf. “I found them in my desk this morning. One’s from Chanmi and the other is from a girl I met in dance team.”

                  Taehyung lifts an eyebrow. “Does Yoongi have competition?”

                  Jimin squints. “No. No, Jane gave some to everyone.”

                  “Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in defeat.

                  “Did you get any?”

                  “Course,” Taehyung snorts. “I’m popular, don’t you forget it. They’re mostly from girls I’ve had classes with though.”

                  Jimin pulls his textbook out and tries shoving it into his bag. “You’re not interested in any of them?”

                  “Not really,” he replies vaguely. “But for real, are you getting Yoongi anything?”

                  The other closes his locker. “You need a love life,” he says.

                  Taehyung takes dramatic offense and clutches his chest. “What? Why would you say that?”

                  “You’re actually really concerned about Yoongi and me.” Jimin stifles a laugh. “Like, it might do you some good if you started dating someone too. Maybe then you’d stop hustling me like my mom.”

                  “I’m fine!” the guy wails, suddenly flustered. “I have you and the other guys, I don’t need a love life. And I’m just making sure you and Yoongi are still going strong! I want to be an uncle, y’know!”

                  Jimin groans and starts walking away. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

                  Taehyung follows along while giggling. “It’d be cute if you did give him something though, just saying.”

                  “Yeah, but a generic box of chocolates doesn’t really do justice, does it?” he sighs, “he doesn’t even like sweets.”

                  “Typical.” His friend snaps his fingers. “Oh, I have an idea!”

--

                  He looks up when he hears another body shuffling into the dance studio and smiles when Yoongi’s figure enters his vision. “Hi,” he greets from his seat on the floor.

                  “Hey.” The older male tugs down his scarf and glances around the room. “… I’m getting a sudden case of déjà vu.”

                  Jimin lets out a soft laugh. “Is it because we officially met in here?”

                  “Well, . We did, didn’t we?” Yoongi strides over and helps him onto his feet, effortlessly enveloping Jimin into his arms. “So what’ve you been up to? I heard you got into the dance team.”

                  “Yeah,” he answers, face muffled into Yoongi’s chest. “I’ve been choreographing for the musical.”

                  “You’re going places.” Yoongi pauses. “Show me.”

                  Jimin squirms to get his phone out of his pocket. “I was recording myself earlier—”

                  “No,” the elder interrupts, hugging him tighter as to stop him from moving. “You have to show me. Like, in person.”

                  He looks up, eyes wide with horror. “B-But— it’s a work in p-progress and…” he blubbers, “d-do I have to?”

                  Yoongi nods firmly and lets go of him. “Of course. As your beloved boyfriend, I’m entitled to early screenings of your artistic genius. Also, I just really want to see you dance again.”

                  The tips of Jimin’s ears start glowing red. He covers his face and paces the room for a bit. Finally, he glances at him and says, “c-can you be Laertes?”

                  The older student stares at him. “Can I be a what now?”

                  “Laertes,” Jimin repeats. “In the final act, Hamlet and Laertes have a swordfight. Th-That’s what I’m making the dance for. I-I’ll be Hamlet, and you’re Laertes.”

                  “Uh, okay.” Yoongi puts his bag down and steps back. “… What do I do?”

                  “J-Just stand there.” He stumbles to the speakers and plays a popular pop song. He faces Yoongi again, knowing fully well that he’s not supposed to stare at the floor while performing this piece. With the way the other boy is staring him down, he can’t help it.

                  Jimin doesn’t understand why there’s a ridiculous amount of butterflies in his stomach. He’s doesn’t understand why his face is akin to a tomato, why his heart is ramming against his ribcage like it’s trying to leave him without breath. He’s just showing some moves to Yoongi.

                  It’s just Yoongi.

                  He breathes, feeling more unease than what any other stage will give him. Blinking up at the languid figure no more than five feet away, Jimin’s cheeks are set alight when Yoongi gives him a bright grin. And with that, he moves.

                  It’s a given that he’d stumble through the first couple steps, but even at the song’s half point Jimin is still a blundering mess (in his mind, anyway). He still continues because Yoongi still has his eyes on him. He’s the watching sun while Jimin spins around, rotating in his orbit. He moves as swiftly as his flimsy limbs will allow, guiding the other boy’s gaze with every lift of his arms.

                  At the height of the music, Jimin lurches closer to Yoongi and turns a palm towards him, pausing in motion. He looks up and meets Yoongi’s eyes. The elder doesn’t move, and instead looks mesmerized by his actions.

                  “… Hand,” Jimin whispers, wiggling his fingers.

                  Yoongi blinks as if he’s been taken out of a dream. “Hand,” he repeats, fitting his hand into Jimin’s.

                  The younger male gently leads him around the room, through encounters so close their noses almost touch. Jimin doesn’t let go even once, and yet Yoongi is more of a mess than he was earlier. He can’t keep up with his fluid movements and constantly trips over himself.

                  Finally, Jimin bursts out laughing. “Y-You really can’t dance.”

                  “No Sherlock,” the guy mutters, still gripping onto his hand. His cheeks are tinted pink and Jimin loves the idea of not being the flustered one for once. “I’m not made for this kind of thing.”

                  “I know, I know… Just bear with it for a little longer.” He starts moving again, much to Yoongi’s dismay. “We—We’re almost done.”

                  “This is how much I love you,” the elder grunts as he’s spun around. “I’m never a ballerina for anyone else.”

                  Jimin stifles a giggle. “O-Okay, at this part, Hamlet gets a hold of Laertes’ sword and—”

                  Yoongi groans. “He ing kills Laertes. You want me to die?”

                  “… D-Die gently.”

                  “… Alright.”

                  “A-Anyway,” Jimin stammers, releasing his hand to reach into his back pocket. “He gets the sword and holds Laertes at knifepoint before striking him—!” He lunges an object into Yoongi’s face, causing the latter to flinch.

                  It takes a moment for Yoongi to realize what’d held between Jimin’s fingers. “… A… A daisy?” he breathes after the music stops playing.

                  “… I-I—” Jimin splutters, suddenly embarrassed for being so lame. “H-Happy Valentine’s Day.”

                  Yoongi takes the flower from his grasp. “You got me a daisy for Valentine’s Day.”

                  “Uh, daisies…” He scratches his cheek. “The bouquet’s in my b-backpack. Do… Do you like it?”

                  The elder blinks. “Like it? Jimin, I… loved everything, you moron. This flower and that dance. You do realize that you’re kind of cute, right?”

                  “Kind of?”

                  “You’re a damn cute motherer, alright?” Yoongi suddenly frowns. “I… I didn’t get you anything, though.”

                  He panics. “O-Oh, I didn’t e-expect you to. I-It’s alright, hyung—”

                  All words disappear from thought the second Yoongi pulls him closer and kisses him like there’s no damn tomorrow.

I started using my twitter account again o; you can ask me fic-related questions (about party crashers or otherwise)! 
I probably won't answer anything about vmin's kiss though,,
or you could just start a convo with me c;
@johnnipeo!
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