Jimin threw himself down into the beanbag chair, glancing around at his companions once he was sufficiently stuck into the squishy material and certain that he would need help getting back out of it unless he slept in it all night. Meanwhile, he noticed that Yifan had just lit up a pretty nice looking blunt, the brown rolling paper catching the flame almost immediately as the older boy inhaled from the other end carefully. He was seated at the opposite end of the couch next to Jimin’s beanbag chair, with Yixing in the middle and Jongdae closest to the sophomore.

Once Yifan finished getting it lit, he moved the blunt away from his lips and managed to slur the word, “Mondays.” From the way he said it, Jimin could tell that he’d already had a good bit to drink.

Without even thinking, Jimin managed to spit out, “Tuesdays,” before Jongdae and Yixing were able to react.

“Wednesdays,” Jongdae piped up after that, nearly sitting on the edge of his seat.

After another pause, Yixing glanced around before going slack, his shoulders slumping forward as his head dropped. When he raised it again, he whined, “I wasn’t ready at all. How can you all be so cruel to me?”

“You’re never ready, Yixing,” Jongdae replied, grinning ear to ear as he poked the older in the ribs, earning him an unwilled giggle from the lanky boy.

“Anyway,” Yifan cut in, using a strange hand gesture for emphasis, “this lovely roll needs to get down the person who actually got Tuesdays. I trust you lot can manage that without any cheating.”

But of course, just as the blunt was passed from Yifan to Yixing, then Yixing to Jongdae, attention was interrupted and drawn elsewhere as someone apparently ran into the door to Jongdae’s room, which was closed at that moment. After some unintelligible cursing, someone managed to turn the doorknob and make quite a grand entrance into the room.

“You ers were about to smoke in my own room without me, weren’t you?”

The boy was stumbling a bit, grabbing at a support beam in the middle of the room to steady himself before he toppled over altogether. His clothes were in a disarray, one of his t-shirt sleeves hanging off a shoulder while his light brown hair was sufficiently messed up and sticking out in several different directions.

“Well, if it isn’t my wonderful roommate!” Jongdae said, beaming as he stood up, arms open wide like he was going for a hug even though he didn’t move his feet at all. “Yoongi, you know we would never leave you out.”

“Damn right you wouldn’t,” the older slurred, trying to step around some shoes in the floor without killing himself. Without a word, he meandered his way around the room right to where Jimin was sitting in the beanbag chair and didn’t hesitate to plop himself down on top of his younger fraternity brother.

Jimin felt most of the air leave his lungs when this happened, and he found he was only able to flail one arm a little, the other pinned under the weight of the older boy. A small strangled sound came from his throat at some point, but he was certain none of the other boys heard him, or if they did, they weren’t concerned about him, too fixated on that blunt that Yoongi managed to pluck out of Yixing’s hand before taking a long drag of it.

As Jimin was attempting to wriggle at least one other body part out from under the drunk, and soon to be high, Yoongi, voices came from the hallway, clearly heading for the room they were all occupying. At this point, all thought of the order that the blunt was supposed to be passed in had been forgotten, with Jimin being skipped over completely. So now it was back in Yifan’s hand as the door to the room opened for a second time, only this time a whole group was entering the somewhat small room.

“…As you can see, each room has so many lofts so even a room is being shared by brothers, they still get at least some private space for themselves.” Jongin stopped what he was saying as he took in the scene in front of him, one corner of his mouth tugging up into a smirk.

Behind him were the two rushees, Sehun and Zitao, whom Jimin had been asked to pick up from the downtown area once they got away from their orientation group. As per usual, Jongin, as first rush chair, was giving them the house tour, showing them certain rooms and explaining different aspects that pertained to being in the fraternity. Bringing up the end of the group was one of Jimin’s good friends and pledge class brothers, Namjoon, who had pushed himself into a pretty good position as second rush chair. In Jimin’s mind, he could even see his friend becoming the next academics chair once Jin graduated, as focused on his studies as he was.

Once more, Jongdae all but jumped out of his seat, although a little slower this time, the effects of the blunt already beginning to set in; Jimin mentally cursed Yoongi for taking his spot because it was probably the really good cannabis they could only get at certain times during the summer.

“Welcome to our humble abode,” Jongdae boomed, his grin having returned in full force accompanied by some misplaced chuckles that he was unable to hold back. “This is one of the few places in the house, and even on campus, where you can enjoy certain substances other than alcohol.” He bowed then, probably just because he was already high, and Yixing and Yifan were unable to force down snorts of laughter.

Then, Yoongi, Jongdae’s roommate, decided to say a word too, or rather, ask something of the rushees. “Do either of you partake? We’ve got a blunt going right now, if you want.” Somehow, he managed to pull himself together in front of potential members, something even Jimin remembered from his time as a rushee. Of course, as soon as the rushees became pledges, Yoongi became a completely different beast to deal with it.

Zitao looked like he was about to back out of the room altogether, his wide eyes giving away his disbelief that he was even being asked such a thing, but Sehun stepped forward without a word, nodding to show that he would, in fact, like to partake. This seemed to surprise Zitao even more, but he didn’t leave his friend despite his hesitation. After a moment, Jongdae had given his seat to Sehun, and Zitao had managed to squeeze in between Yixing and Yifan. Meanwhile, Yoongi was still slumped, sitting on top of Jimin, who was now almost entirely pushed down into the beanbag chair; it was a miracle he was still able to breathe with all the weight focused on top of his abdomen.

“You alright there, Jimin?”

Hearing the question directed at him, Jimin managed to poke his head up enough to peer over Yoongi’s shoulder and see the Namjoon was speaking to him.

“If I could breathe normally,” he wheezed out in response, “I would be a lot happier.”

The blonde smirked knowingly and stepped toward the beanbag chair that the two boys were somehow both occupying. He glanced around casually before looking down at Yoongi and catching his attention.

“Hey, hey, Yoongi,” he started, bending over a little so he would more on a level with the inebriated person on top of Jimin. “Someone told me Yifan was ordering some more shrooms soon, but I was pretty sure he hadn’t said anything to you yet, so I wanted to make sure you were aware.”

That got his attention immediately. “What? Really? And that er didn’t tell me? I’ll –“

Before Yoongi could describe the horrific things he would try to do to Yifan for not informing him of this sooner, Namjoon managed to cut in again. “Maybe you should go tell him how that makes you feel, you know, since he probably can’t hear you from here.” Jimin was the only one to see the mischievous grin flash across the blonde’s face for only a split second before it was gone again and his features were the picture of innocence.

“You’re right, I should—“ a struggling Yoongi pushed himself up from the beanbag chair, elbowing Jimin in the stomach in the process, before adding, “I should definitely tell him. I will, that’s what I’ll do.”

As he stumbled over the other end of the couch, Jimin found a hand offered to him from above, and when he grabbed it, Namjoon pulled him to his feet. While the others were introducing themselves to the rushees, Jimin followed the older out of the room and out onto the small balcony that overlooked the yard and street in front of the house below – the Beer Porch, as it was dubbed by the brothers who first moved into the house decades ago.

“Shouldn’t you stay with the rushees?” Jimin asked, concerned, as he sat down on the rickety bench next to Namjoon.

Leaning back, the older boy replied, “Nah, I think Jongin can handle the two of them. I really haven’t gotten much of a word in anyway. It’s like he’s trying to make up for sending you to pick them up or something.” He paused, smirking again, before adding, “Maybe Kyungsoo had a word with him, and we all know Jongin would go to the ends of the earth if Kyungsoo suggested it to him.”

The brunette was honestly a little taken aback by what his friend was saying; he couldn’t remember ever seeing anything other than friendship between the two before that time. “You mean, you think there’s something more between them?”

Namjoon chuckled, looking toward Jimin finally. “Sweet, innocent Jimin. There is most certainly something between them, even if neither of them is willing to admit it yet. Of course, they’re just like everyone else.” He looked back toward the street, where a group of people were walking away from downtown, probably to another fraternity house or apartment to crash for the night. “They’re afraid of rejection, just like anyone else.”

Jimin let out a sigh and watched the group as well, leaning back on the bench next to his friend. He was used to Namjoon’s deep conversations by now, and he knew that was where this one was headed. The only difference was that these talks usually didn’t have to do with romantic emotions and relationships and feelings, and Jimin wasn’t quite sure where this could go. With Namjoon’s mind, his talks could be unpredictable at best.

But the younger wasn’t too concerned, for some reason. Pushing ahead, he decided to keep the conversation going himself. “Are you afraid of rejection, Namjoon?”

That caught the blonde off guard; Jimin knew because he could hear him in his breath over the nearly muted music that was still blasting downstairs. Namjoon glanced around distractedly, clearing trying to find an answer, but the younger didn’t know why he would have to think so hard about how to reply. It was a simple question with a pretty basic yes or no answer, wasn’t it?

Finally, a long sigh from Namjoon, and his voice was very quiet when he answered. “Yes, Jimin, it’s probably the one thing I’m scared of the most.”

~

“You’re sure you don’t want any punch?”

Chanyeol huffed in slight irritation as he was asked the question, probably for the tenth time that evening. Of course, it wouldn’t have quite so frustrating if the question hadn’t come from the same plastered person every single time.

“No, Hoseok, I don’t want any of your punch. I have plenty of my own beer, thanks,” Chanyeol replied, trying his best to keep his temper down.

Just as the drunk event chair was about to open his mouth – likely to ask once more if Chanyeol was absolutely certain he didn’t want any “amazing” punch – a smaller, slimmer figure with raven black hair and bright eyes appeared at Chanyeol’s side.

“Hey Chan, I need you for a second. Need you to look at something for me.”

Chanyeol glanced down at the slightly younger boy and didn’t hesitate to nod, taking advantage of any excuse to get away from Hoseok. Maybe he would be able to enjoy some of his local brew before everyone else became too inebriated to tolerate. “Sure, Baek; whatever you need.”

Baekhyun glanced at Hoseok and added, “Sorry, just need to pull Chan away for a bit. Shouldn’t take too long.” His eyes were the picture of innocence, but Chanyeol knew the schemes turning and forming inside his mind, and in this particular instance, he appreciated that side of his boyfriend. It was helpful when he needed an excuse to escape pretty much anything.

Without another word, Baekhyun led Chanyeol to the back staircase and upstairs to his own room. The older grinned to himself when he knew Baek wouldn’t see it; the younger was so modest when it came to the two of them that it made everything almost obvious when the two of them slipped away to one of their respective rooms. Chanyeol didn’t care – he was the one always trying to kiss Baekhyun in front of everyone else, relishing in their reactions simply because they couldn’t do anything about it. The handsome boy leading him into the small bedroom and locking the door behind them was his.

Of course, what Chanyeol was expecting wasn’t the thing at the forefront of Baekyun’s mind, apparently. The raven-haired boy turned away, scratching his head lightly, clearly deep in thought.

“Baek, everything okay?” the older asked, the first tinges of worry starting to nip at his stomach.

“Hm?” Baekhyun turned back to his boyfriend quickly, having been pulled out of his thoughts quite suddenly. “What? Oh, yeah, everything’s fine, I promise. I was just thinking… have you paid any attention to Minseok lately?”

“Minseok?” Chanyeol echoed, confused. “What about him?”

Glancing down at the floor, Baekhyun hesitated, looking for words, before he came up with a decent answer. “He just seems… off lately. I get that he’s got a lot on his plate, being the vice president and getting ready to be a senior, but I look at him and then I look at Junmyeon, and it’s just… He doesn’t seem like he’s handling everything nearly as well, you know?” A sigh escaped through the boy’s slightly parted lips before he added, voice much softer now, “I’m just worried he might be depressed or something.”

“Aw, Baek,” Chanyeol murmured, crossing the space between them in only two steps so he could brush the loose hair away from his boyfriend’s face. Wrapping his arms comfortingly around Baekhyun’s torso, he said, “That’s just like you to worry about someone else over you, especially someone in the fraternity. It amazes me just how caring you are.” Chanyeol then pressed a soft kiss to the top of Baekhyun’s head, until he had another thought. Grinning, he added, “You know who else wasn’t here tonight, besides Minseok?”

Baekhyun shook his head; he’d been too busy keeping an eye on Jongin and Namjoon around the rushees when they first arrived that he hadn’t paid much attention to which of the brothers were absent.

“Luhan,” Chanyeol replied, smirking.