Jimin woke up to a grunt and a few rustle before it ended up somehow with an accidental smack to his skull, followed by a halfhearted “Oops, sorry”, from a foreign voice he barely registered. The next thing that greeted him as he opened his eyes was an agonizing headache, one that split his skull apart and his eyeball popping from its socket. Grunting, Jimin rolled to the side of his bed, rubbing on his eyes with the back of his palm.

“Dude, can you roll back away? You're lying on my pants.”

That foreign voice again. Truthfully, all he wanted to say was a ' off, I still want to sleep' before his brain kicked in, reminding him that foreign baritone and a terrible hangover equaled to a certain soreness on his lower back and bruises which origin he should have known. Jerking up so suddenly upon the realization, his body and head quickly protested against his choice of action, the recurring headache worked its way towards his stomach, sending a very familiar sensation up his throat.

Clutching his mouth, Jimin stumbled down his bed and ran towards the bathroom, tripping on his step but arrived safely and (most importantly) just in time to pour the content of his stomach into the toilet.

“You okay there?” the foreign voice called out to him again from the open bathroom door.

Jimin grunted a small 'yeah' as he wiped his lips, still feeling horrible whatsoever. His mouth tasted awful and his head was stil spinning. He could simply fall there on his bathroom floor like that with vomit stil painting the edge of his mouth.

”Well, that's a bit awful. Better not drink too much next time,” the voice said again.

That voice. Jimin slowly brought himself upward, staggering at first but finally won his short but tiring battle with gravity. He was in dire need of a shower and some peppermint toothbrush paste but the existence of a certain stranger in his apartment certainly required more attention. Walking out of the bathroom with hands holding his weight on the wall, he was greeted with a pair of black irises and a smile that somehow reminded him awfully of the scarlet sky.

Right. Last night. A club, too much to drink, a kiss and heated on his rickety bed. Of course, how could he forget? Grunting, Jimin ruffled his hair, trying to clear his mind.

“You know, this is the part where you should actually be waking up to an empty bed but I'm sorry about waking you up instead,” the stranger said.

His black hair was disheveled, black shirt wrapping his slim torso with unsurprisingly another black leather pants that told him that yes, even a guy could have such sinful legs that put a girl to shame. Just at the corner below the collarbone Jimin could see the bruise peeking from the edge of his shirt, reminding Jimin of something he had supposedly done last night but could hardly remember right now. Last night was a blur, hidden already in the depth of his mind and better stayed that way then.

“So, I better get going,” the stranger said, pointing awkwardly towards the door to which Jimin just nodded his head. A one night stand that he could hardly remember. After this, they would never see each other again. A perfect ending to a perfect story.

Instead, the said stranger didn't disappear behind the front door, looking back at him for the last time and quite comically continued the awkward conversation.

“So uhm-, thank you-, ah, what's your name again?”

Of course. How typical.

“It's Jimin,” he simply said. He wasn't even mad that the stranger didn't remember his name because quite frankly he didn't remember his as well (heck, a few minutes ago he didn't even remember about having with the said main).

“And yours?” he asked back out of politeness.

The stranger smirked before answering as if waiting for Jimin to ask that certain question.

“Definitely not Yoongi though.”

Ah.

And Jimin felt like throwing up for the second time even though there was nothing that forced its way up his throat. Maybe there was indeed something, though a foul pile of processed food mixed with alcohol weren't certainly the answer. Perhaps it would be something closed to regret and disgust for oneself.

“I'm sorry about that,” he said softly.

There went the bliss of being oblivious, to have last night away from the realm of his memory, because now, even if such thing never came back to mind, he did know that he had uttered the wrong name. The man must have felt pissed, being turned off after hearing a name that wasn't respectively his.

“Nah, it's okay. You're not that bad either way, Jimin,” the stranger said instead. He put on a smile on his face, one that horribly reminded him of how a red would look like when it was met with the blue upon the twilight sky.

“So what's your name?” he asked again, because that was the last thing he could do for the man, to remember his name. Even in his head he had stupidly thought about ing later on while calling the name out loud, only to make up for the wrong he had done.

“It's Jaebum. Im Jaebum,” the man said, finally giving a name to the smirking stranger who stood in his apartment with a hickey that Jimin had left him from a drunk one night stand.

+.-.+

It was a Thursday when Jimin finally let Jungkook bring him to his group's basketball practice. He didn't really know whether this was going to be a mistake or not, but considering Taehyung and Jungkook were going to be there, the least Jimin could do was try. He wasn't really a pro back then in Seoul, but he was at least good enough to receive compliments from the older hyungs. They said he had natural talent, whatever that really meant.

Soon enough he was acquainted with the rest of the gang. The first thing that he could comment on Seokjin was how handsome he was. Jimin wouldn't deny that his face and name was amongst the ones Jimin could remember easily in class. His smile was really kind and polite, even more so than Jungkook's. Namjoon, whom Jungkook introduced as their leader had another different aura though he couldn't really say much from first impression alone. Only when the practice was finished would he later on learn about the funny quirks and traits of a Kim Namjoon that one simply couldn't forget. Hoseok was the one he could speak very easily to when he gave the man a chance (and by chance meaning not having his eyes on the floor). He was really cheerful and bubbly, talking with Jimin as if he was a long-lost friend. It overwhelmed him a bit at first but Hoseok was clever, turning the topic conversation into that of their friends instead of questions about Jimin's past like everyone did.

The last person who entered the gym was Yoongi and Jimin somehow paid more attention to the man. His back was a bit hunched, school bag slung over his shoulder and lethargic movement as if he was tired and in need of sleep. It definitely didn't look like someone who was ready to play basketball. At first he even doubted Jungkook's words when he said that Yoongi was the best amongst them.

It didn't really take that long for Jimin to be proven wrong.

Yoongi was indeed good. Better than all of them (even more so when he was compared with Namjoon). So Jimin gave the best that he could, one that got the other letting out a voice of surprise and Yoongi glancing at him in disbelief as he stopped the elder's rebound.

The others warmed up to him ever since that day, Namjoon greeting him at the school, Seokjin smiling at him and offered him to hang out with them during recess, even Hoseok jumped up on both him and Taehyung once, slinging both his hands around their shoulders. But Yoongi was different. The boy who sat right in front of him was another story all together.

Neither of them ever mentioned their initial encounter. In fact, the next time Yoongi talked to him after practice, Jimin somehow got the message that the boy didn't really like him. It changed when the three of them got to stand in front of the classroom after a series of stupid doodling before he started to believe that Min Yoongi definitely hated him from the way he kept on staring at him during their next basketball practice.

“I don't think Yoongi really likes me,” he said to Taehyung during warmup, they were against each others backs with both hands linked.

Taehyung answered him with a scoff. “Yoongi-hyung doesn't don't like you,” he said, bending down first, lifting Jimin's feet off the ground and got him bending his spine backwards.

“I'm confused Tae. Do you mean he doesn't hate me?” Jimin said, disregarding Taehyung's questionable and confusing choice of words and his own crackling spine that groaned from the stretch.

“Yeah, he doesn't hate you. Yoongi-hyung simply doesn't like everybody,” Taehyung nonchalantly answered as Jimin's feet touched the ground once again.

Jimin rolled his eyes and he knew that his seatmate was grinning behind him.

“I'm serious, Taehyung,” Jimin said, this time being the down who bent forward. “Last time he said something like 'too bad, no one wants me here'.”

“He did?”

It was indeed the exact words that he said, one that he admitted kind of hurt his feeling. But then again, when he gazed upon his ceilings that night and thought about Yoongi's words, it was still nothing compared to the pain he had for what Seoul had left for him.

“Yeah. And he kept on looking at me like-,”

Like Jimin didn't belong there. Like Jimin just made a mistake, even breathing could probably be seen as one.

“Like your very existence annoys him?”

“Yeah, like that.”

Taehyung let out a scoff again. “Don't worry, it's just his normal gaze.”

Jimin winced in protest because he really did think that Yoongi hate him. He was about to remonstrate Taehyung's words when Hoseok jumped right on top of them and Jimin's legs buckled from the weight. They wrestled on the ground for a few moment before Yoongi yelled at them for the game was about to start.

The game ended with an invitation for dinner at Seokjin's place and Jimin was honestly surprised with the offer. He was about to decline, saying some excuse about his grandmother waiting for him at home, although he knew how much of a petty excuse that was to avoid the conversations he dreaded so much. But it was Taehyung and Jungkook who managed to persuade him instead, even Hoseok smiled and said that he wanted to talk more with Jimin if he could.

Jimin couldn't lie how his heart warmed a bit at that point, how he let out a small smile and let his seatmate sling his arm around his shoulder and drag him to their eldest house.

Almost a week later in a fine Sunday he realized that the Bulletproof Boy (or so they had decided to tackily name themselves) had a very weird tradition for a so-called initiation night. But certainly he wasn't one to complain when it ended up with all of them laughing upon the small creek, throwing mud at each other like a child. He honestly hadn't laughed that much since Seoul.

Soon enough Jimin started to find a genuine excuse for himself to come home when the sun had set and his grandmother was waiting by the dinner table with steaming rice and wonderful smell of cooked meat in the air. This time Jimin could see the small smile on his grandmother's face as she saw her grandson talked about a certain tiring practice later on upon each mouthful of rice.

It actually helped when he was tired as well, for he wouldn't be lying on the bed at night, looking at his ceiling and thought about a certain mistake that haunted him. It was a thousand time better when his muscle was cramped and feet sore from walking, his eyelids getting heavier with the sight of his bed alone. Yet it was still hard on days other than a Thursday, when guilt woke him up at three in the morning with chest aching, his dream filled with countless of faceless face whispering their judgement in his ear.

So it was another fine day like the usual when he sat in his seat after school had ended, looking at the empty classroom with a longing feeling and the emotion paining his chest. At moments like these, Jimin could probably say how crazy he was, because in the end he always returned to the one thing he had been doing all along, to the addiction that got him shedding his tears and shaking his shoulders.

The one thing that Park Jimin could say was how addictive self-loathing could be.

It didn't take long for him to cry. He could do it as easy as snapping his finger, recalling a certain memory and have everything weighing down on his shoulder. Yet this time something else happened, because it was a mixture of worry and his eyes running across something that got him stopping, inching towards the table in front of him and realized a notebook that was left by its owner that Jimin bet was going to come barging in again sooner or later.

Min Yoongi, the fearsome student who sat in front of him just left his notebook there, again.

Jimin wasn't originally a snoop, nor that he liked to his way into other people's business, but this time it was him holding the notebook with held tears and curiosity filling his mind. What he thought was a normal notebook turned out to be something else entirely as he saw something about a familiar brat written on one of its pages.

The brat cried again during initiation. He was laughing when he did.

Jimin's stomach churned as he read the word because he did cry that day, thinking that no one realized it and having Min Yoongi that did just made everything feel more awkward. He didn't think that Yoongi would be a person who paid enough attention to him, who wrote about a weird new kid in his notebook. Flipping through the pages, he found other names scribbled here and there as well, something about a certain Yujin and Minju, even to something else like a poem filled with swear words dedicated to a certain Ikje.

That day he thought that maybe Yoongi wouldn't be that bad, though it certainly changed again at the next when he called him pathetic for crying. He simply didn't understand that person at all, Jimin ended up distancing himself from the always-seemed-to-be-glaring boy.

Apparently Min Yoongi stayed as an enigma, because days later it was him who entered the classroom with a scolding that got Jimin wondering whether the boy really did hate him or doing the complete opposite.

"Did you still think that Yoongi-hyung hates you?" Jungkook asked one day, as he was sitting in front of Jungkook in the younger's class, picking on his own packed lunch as the boy in front of him was busy with an english homework. He had voluntereed to help the younger in his worst subject even though Namjoon was actually more fitting for the job. He sometimes did this, spending his recess alone with either Jungkook or Taehyung when they weren't lounging by the stairs with the others.

"Wait, where do you know about-,"

"Tae told me," Jungkook nonchalantly answered.

Jimin was about to protest, saying something along the line of avoiding any dispute or rumors before Jungkook continued once again.

"I think that's nonsense. Even Seokjin-hyung agrees," the younger muttered.

"Wait, what does Seokjin-hyung agree on?"

"That Yoongi doesn't hate you, Jimin. He's just like that around new people," Jungkook said again before turning his attention back towards his homework, scribbling another word.

“So no one thinks that-, hey, how could even Seokjin-hyung knows about that from the start?" Jimin said, before this time he reached out his hand and smacked the insolent prick in front of him lightly on the head. "And use honorific, you punk. Don't think you can be disrespectful when I'm helping you with your english homework."

Jungkook just cracked a smile, still continuing his homework, even when Jimin wanted to facepalm himself for the fact that Taehyung had probably talked about his Yoongi problem not only with Jungkook but with the others as well.

“Relax, hyung," Jungkook said, teasing him by emphasizing the hyung. "Even Hoseok-hyung said that you don't have to worry about Yoongi-hyung, though Namjoon-hyung admitted that it's probably us who have been accustomed to his evil gaze.”

At this point Yoongi would probably think that Jimin was having a problem with him, though honestly he saw it as the complete opposite.

“Don't get too caught up in it,” Jungkook said again.

Jimin just hummed. Jungkook was right. He shouldn't be too caught up in this. Yoongi could think about him anyway he wanted. Maybe it was simply the fact that Jimin started to feel a little better, started to feel that the friends he saw could make his day a little brighter, and when Yoongi was there amongst them he just wanted to be accepted by him no less as well.

“I don't know, I'm somehow convinced that he hates me,” Jimin muttered, remembering the words that the elder had spoken, either that about how no one wanted him to be there or how pathetic he was. “That, or it's the complete opposite,” he continued, thinking about the scolding that he got and the little mention of himself in the so-called notebook.

“So either Yoongi-hyung really hates you or he's in love with you,” Jungkook joked, lifting his head to smirk at him.

“Yeah right,” Jimin scoffed.

That time Jimin was convinced that he knew how a person falling in love acted like, and Min Yoongi certainly wasn't doing that.

+.-.+

Min Yoongi didn't hate him. He didn't care about him either, but he was there again when Jimin did forget something in the classroom. His words seemed acidic at first but at the end it was Jimin standing at the backseat to an offer that he didn't know he should refuse or take. But something slowly changed ever since that day, how Yoongi glared at him a little bit less, his jaw more relaxed and gaze less murderous.

And more than anything, Jimin too felt that something had changed with how he opened his eyes each morning, taking his bag and basketball uniform only to put them back leaning against the wall hours later when the sun had set and his body aching. The practice took everything off of his mind because for once Jimin stood there in front of the mirror after a long shower, realizing that it was his knees and ankle that ached more than his heart.

That night as he laid his head against his pillow it was the day of the match that he thought about instead of Seoul and the past kisses that felt like blades etching against his skin.

Soon enough it changed again after the big day, the long awaited match becoming an early victory that the group drank upon. Taehyung was hugging him too tight whilst being drunk and Hoseok was begging him to stay since they never had a sleepover before, but it was his eyes that somehow ran towards a certain figure that slipped out of the ruckus unnoticed.

“Oh come on, Jimin, why do you have to go?” Jungkook said, face looking a bit disappointed. “Please stay. It'll be fun, we'll get to see Hoseok-hyung making a fool out of himself.”

He was there by the door, looking at the figure of Yoongi walking out through the night alone. He had actually agreed for a sleepover, but somehow his little heart told him to go catch that grumpy friend of his, joining him for a walk that they have shared silently more than dozens before.

“I'm sorry, Jungkook. Next time, when you finally address me properly with a 'hyung',” he said, smiling a bit to his junior whilst ruffling his hair despite the younger's protest before running out from the door, telling Yoongi to wait for him.

That day Jimin should probably thank his decision for running after Yoongi, because he was convinced that that night changed the course of their relationship. Because if it wasn't for him choosing to go back, they wouldn't have talked real late into the night, until time was a dimension both party had forgotten and the sun rising from the east becoming the sole thing that reminded them that such exciting conversation did have an ending.

That early morning Jimin laid his head against his pillow with an aching body and heavy eyelids. For the first time as he let memory wash over him before he lost his consciousness to sleep, it was the last buzzer that he remembered, the big smile on his teams' face, and a certain hours long conversation with a grumpy kid that claimed to hold neither hate nor care for him.