Jimin’s not quite conscious - he’s in that place between sleep and awake, that place where you’re distinctly aware that you’re dreaming. Standing at the threshold, by the entrance of Dreamland, he’s about to walk through the door -

Buzz

Buzz

Buzz

He swings his arms around, swatting at the air and trying to bat away the bee that seems to have taken up residence near his ear. He lets out a loud groan when the buzzing seems to also cause his pillow to vibrate.

“Stop,” Jimin whines.

The buzzing continues despite his protests, and he cracks open an eye in hopes of finding the offensive bug, ready to carry out an egregious assassination of the insect’s life. When the dim light from underneath his pillowcase hits his eyes, it takes a few seconds for Jimin’s brain to realize what’s going on. He slides his hand inside the pillowcase and pulls his phone out. The envelope icon flashes frantically, announcing to the dark room that someone desperately wants to chat with him. Jimin doesn’t bother to look at the name, knowing who it is already he swipes a finger along the screen.

Normally, Jimin would be laughing his off  (and possibly singing along despite the typos) at the texternade (text serenade, word courtesy of Taehyung, of course), especially when it’s Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody. Except it’s four in the morning and Jimin’s only managed to get two hours of sleep after a nearly seven-hour practice/rehearsal for his dance midterm. He’s not ing awake enough for Taehyung’s antics.

The reply has Jimin throwing his phone on the bed in frustration, rolling over in a huff and pulling the pillow over his head. The plan: ignore Taehyung till he gets bored and stops his too-ing-early-in-the-morning text onslaught. The continued buzzing and slight vibrations he feels remind him that (no matter how much wishes for it right now), Taehyung does not play by “normal” rules. The messages come in quick succession, one after the other, and Jimin wonders if Taehyung is actually a vampire (because seriously, that would explain so much).

Seriously Taehyung, the entire song? How the do you even know all the words?

Jimin holds in a snicker. The messages continue like a steady stream flowing into an ocean.

Jimin doesn’t want to give in and he most certainly does not want to smile, because it is now almost five in the morning and he should be sleeping, not reading the incoherent ramblings of his (clearly disturbed) friend (no matter how good the musical selection). He holds the phone in his hand, waiting for a new round of text assaults and when after ten minutes nothing comes through, Jimin thinks maybe his plan has succeeded. He drops the cell beside his head on the pillow and snuggles into the downy softness. Two minutes and almost asleep later, the phone buzzes again and Jimin picks it up ready to give Taehyung a piece of his mind (a very small piece, he’s tired). He swipes his finger to unlock the screen; tiredness disappearing along with the cobwebs that were clouding his sleep-deficient mind once he reads Taehyung’s message.

Jimin hits the call button so hard his phone falls out of his hands and slides under the bed, he reaches out hoping to catch the gadget but isn’t quick enough. When he nearly falls off the mattress in his efforts to reunite with his phone, he begins to wonder if maybe Taehyung is a genius, because why haven’t bed makers planned for a scenario such as this? He finally retrieves his cell phone from the place where things go to be lost forever (his favorite hello kitty pen rolled under there last month never to be seen again) and dials Taehyung’s number. It rings with no answer, then goes to voicemail, resulting in Jimin nearly passing out from anxiety.

Taehyung’s his doorway, his portal to the world of Kim Namjoon, and Jimin curses himself for his silence and for not replying to Taehyung’s nonsensical late night/early morning texts. If this door closes, he loses his chance at infiltration. Jimin dials Taehyung’s number again, pacing around his room, his sleepy brain in a near panic.

“Relax, worry wart. I’m just messing with you.” Taehyung answers his phone in the middle of hysterical laughter.

“You’re an , you know that right?” Jimin replies harshly, relief flooding his core.

“Sorry, the song was stuck in my head, I needed to share,” Taehyung states as though his actions would now make perfect sense. Jimin smiles to himself, Taehyung may be strange, but he most definitely is never boring.

“So, uhm… you said, that, uhmm,” Jimin is flustered by just the thought of being somewhere that Namjoon is, somewhere Namjoon lives, and why the hell can’t he bring it back up? Taehyung was the one that suggested it.

“Are you asking about hanging out at my brother’s apartment? Man, you got it bad, don’t you? If you can’t even talk about him, how’re you gonna talk to him?”

Taehyung’s laughter on the other end of the phone does not help Jimin’s confidence one bit. But the man is right, if he’s flustered at the thought of the pink-haired barista, if he runs away when the man is within five feet of him – he’ll probably fall into a coma if they have a conversation.

“Oh my God! I’m a mess, what the hell is wrong with me? Is your brother secretly some sort of magical confidence- being? Because I was all right, just fine, then he walked into my Music Theory class and wrecked my life.”

“To be fair, you joined his class. As far as I know, the only magical power Namjoon possesses is clumsiness. In our family he’s known as the god of destruction - because when he touches, looks at, or stands near anything, it typically breaks. He once set the stove on fire just by turning it on. I thought his destructive genius applied to inanimate objects only, maybe I was wrong.” Taehyung sounds thoughtful and Jimin wonders if his friend really is trying to find some correlation between his nervousness and Namjoon destructive tendencies.

“I don’t think I can reasonably blame my lack of sentence-forming skills on Namjoon. Although, I seem to get all brain melty and tongue-tied when he’s around.”

“Brain melty and tongue-tied, can I tell Jungkook you said this?”

“No, you can’t. But what you can do is help me figure out how to talk to your brother without sounding like I need to register for remedial classes.”

He can hear Taehyung snickering on the line.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make the situation awkward or anything, you don’t even have to talk to him. I just thought, bringing you around more would be a good first step to infiltration.”

“Taehyung, seriously you’re genius!”

“I know.” Taehyung replies matter-of-fact.

Jimin jumps in glee and his phone falls from his grasp, once again sliding under the bed (damn it is there some sort of phone-magnet under there?). When he retrieves the device, the call has disconnected and Jimin puffs his cheeks in frustration. He contemplates calling back or sending a text because they hadn’t made a plan, he doesn’t know the when, where, or how of ‘project: show up at Namjoon’s house’.

He almost cries in relief when his phone vibrates and he sees Taehyung’s name pop up.

Jimin smiles and throws the phone on the pillow next to him. It’s five thirty in the morning and he hasn’t slept for more than two hours, but not even lack of sleep and limited brain function can dampen the excitement he feels. Eight and a half hours from now, he will be one step closer to making Kim Namjoon his, okay, maybe not his, but infiltration is well on its way.

“Thanks Tae,” Jimin says out loud as his eyes close and sleep slips under his covers to claim him.

Namjoon

Namjoon will be the first to admit that he has a bad memory; he only remembers about forty percent of a day’s events. However, right now he’s one hundred percent confident that the boy with the dark brown hair and cherub-like features, sitting cross-legged next to Taehyung in front of his television (engaged in a Mario Kart war) is the same one that ran from him (like he was on fire) five days ago (okay seventy-five percent, but that’s still pretty high).

He would join the game but he feels like he’s in timeout in his own home, banished to the dining table (technically a fold out card table, but it works) in the corner behind the two boys. Namjoon doesn’t mind, not really, it’s a side effect of being Taehyung’s older brother. Plus he gets to ogle Jim-something-or-the-other freely. Pak Jiming? No, that’s not it. Pal Jin… Park Jimin? Yes, that sounds right. Namjoon can’t place it, but he knows he has seen Jimin somewhere prior to his runaway bride-esque escape from the other day.

The two boys are sitting on the floor of Namjoon’s tiny apartment trash talking and snickering, and Namjoon won’t lie, Jimin’s smile is kind of adorable (and distracting). He wonders if it’s normal that he’s totally okay with being the third wheel in his own home (probably not), but Jimin’s laughter is infectious and refreshing.The way the boy’s eyes completely disappear when he smiles has Namjoon doing complex math equations in his head, trying to decipher why Jimin’s smile has an effect on his heart rate.

He stifles a giggle (rappers don’t giggle) when the phone in the pocket of his hoodie begins to vibrate, tickling him in the side.

“Hyung, do you have any food?” Taehyung’s closeness startles Namjoon slightly.

“How long have you been standing there?” He asks covering his phone screen, shielding Taehyung from Yoongi’s words.

“I just walked over here. Why? Were you watching on your phone again?”

Normally, that question would find Taehyung in a headlock begging for his life, but they have company and Jimin’s already run from him in fear once (he thinks, he’s pretty sure, like sixty-eight percent), he doesn’t want to give the thick-thighed cherub a reason for a repeat performance.

“No Taehyung, I am not watching on my phone. Mom brought over some kimchijeon yesterday, there’s some left along with rice and kimchi.”

“Wait! Mom’s kimchi? You have mom’s kimchi in your fridge?”

Namjoon laughs, he’d saved the kimchi knowing his brother was coming today, even though it was hard to (he had to will himself away from fridge on more than one occasion) since their mother is an exceptional cook. But it was worth it considering the look of absolute bliss on Taehyung’s face.

“Yeah, I saved it for you because I knew you were coming today.” Namjoon turns to face Jimin, “I’m sorry I don’t have more food, I didn’t know Tae was bringing company, I would have gone grocery shopping then.”

Taehyung has the decency to at least look embarrassed (even if he’s not).

“Sorry hyung, I forgot to mention it. Jimin and I were supposed to hang out, but I haven’t seen you in like a hundred years and I asked if him he wanted to tag along. Turns out you two share a class toge--”

“That’s it,” Namjoon blurts out, “That’s why you look so familiar. Music theory, right?” Jimin nods and Namjoon can’t help but smile at the slight blush that colors the boy’s face and he is curious as to why.

“Hyung, I don’t see the kimchi.” Taehyung yells from the kitchen and a small part of Namjoon wants to curse at his brother for disrupting him while he gawks at Jimin. A bigger (wiser,let's-not-be-more-awkward-than-we-already-are) part of him wants to kiss Taehyung for saving him from possibly, probably, and most definitely, let’s be honest, doing or saying something hugely and irrevocably embarrassing.

Namjoon turns away from the blushing Jimin, who Namjoon notices has still not made a single audible sound directed towards him since he’s stepped foot into his house. Is he mute? No, he was yelling during Mario Kart? Deaf maybe? No, he acknowledged my question about class. Did I do something to him? Namjoon racks his brain for clues to Jimin’s silence as he walks to the kitchen. He bypasses the large box (where Taehyung’s head is currently lodged) and stops in front of a smaller chrome metal box.

“It’s in here.”

“When’d you get a kimchi fridge?” Taehyung inquiries, taking the container from Namjoon’s hand.

“Uhmm, mom.”  

“Clearly she doesn’t understand the meaning of, ‘we will not be supporting you.’”

Namjoon flinches at the statement and this time when Taehyung looks embarrassed, Namjoon knows he means it. “Sorry hyung, that was insensitive.”

“S’okay,” he smiles even though the statement stung, he knows Taehyung didn’t mean anything by it.

Namjoon retreats from the kitchen and walks backwards, and as he turns around, he bumps into an unsuspecting Jimin - who's standing by the entrance. A slight “umph” escapes Jimin’s lips as Namjoon’s momentum transfers to him and sends him tumbling back. The boy reaches out for something, anything to steady himself and Namjoon, but gravity is not on their side. Jimin’s small frame is unable to withstand the timber-like fall of Namjoon as he crashes into him. As he falls, Namjoon reaches out to catch the leg