Jimin decided that it would be a better idea if he stayed away from Jungkook, yet ensuring that it wouldn’t be obvious. It was only then when Jimin realized how much time they had spent together, and how hard it was to not make his behavior suspicious.

 

The first time Jungkook asked if Jimin wanted to work on their choreography together again, Jimin told him he was starving and that he might need the extra time during lunch, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

 

The second time Jungkook asked, Jimin said he needed to finish an assignment and brought his lunch back to his dormitory to eat instead.

 

The third time Jungkook asked, Jimin told him he wasn’t feeling too well, to which Jin brought him medication and insisted that he should take them when Jimin declined to go to the nurse’s office.

 

By the fourth time, Jimin started repeating his excuses, and he had a feeling the others caught on to what was happening.

 

The most problematic, however, was the weekend. Their schedules were free, and everyone knew well enough that none of them would actually trap themselves in their room to work on assignments for the entire two days.

 

“Are you going to work on your project again?” Jimin watched from his bed as Yoongi shoved a notebook into his bookbag.

 

After rooming with Yoongi for nearly three weeks now, he started to wonder if Yoongi owned anything that wasn’t black, or held any trace of black. The black color only made Yoongi look more pale than he already was, which brought another thought to Jimin’s mind: Does he never get tan?

 

“Yeah, I think we’re finally making some progress.”

 

Jimin assumed “we” to be referring to Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok.

 

“Can I come?”

 

Yoongi turned his attention on Jimin and raised a brow. “Why, miss me too much?”

 

Jimin fidgeted with his fingers, avoiding his roommate’s stare as he kept his eyes down on his comforter, worried that it was a useless question and that Yoongi would answer no.

 

“If you don’t mind being a waterboy.”

 

Jimin was greeted with odd stares from Namjoon and Hoseok as he entered what seemed to be a music studio, which wasn’t far from the dance studio. He was surrounded by stereos and various equipment that he did not know the name of. The stands and keyboard were scattered with music sheets and pages of scribbled codes, and in the corner of the room, he noticed a half-finished pack of water bottles. Maybe Yoongi really did intend to make Jimin their waterboy.

 

“You look like your dog just died,” Hoseok commented.

 

“Funny. Because I did have a dog, and he died quite some time ago.”

 

“He’s here to add vocals.”

 

Jimin gawked at his roommate. “What?”

 

“Calm down, Park Jimin, I was joking. He’s just here to observe.”

 

“He’s only like this when Jin’s not around,” Namjoon reassured Jimin, “but hey, listen to this.”

 

Jimin sat on the table against the wall as Namjoon typed a few buttons on the computer, a few beats that sounded to be from a synthesizer suddenly filling the room. A faint drum pattern came after, along with a few piano tunes. He remained silent, focusing all his attention on the song and how it naturally carried his mind away from the thoughts of Jungkook.

 

“You made that?” Jimin asked when Namjoon turned off the music.

 

“Actually, no. Yoongi did.”

 

He stared wide-eyed at his roommate, astonished by his talent and ability. “It’s good.”

 

“Good, not great.” Yoongi rubbed his nape and lifted a music sheet from the keyboard.

 

“No,” Jimin shook his head, “that wasn’t what I meant. It is great, it’s awesome.”

 

Yoongi didn’t smile, nor show any sign of satisfaction with his compliment. “It’s really rough.”

 

“Yoongi is a perfectionist when it comes to music,” Hoseok pointed out. “Even the slightest hint of discord means a redo.”

 

Jimin furrowed his brows. “But it sounded fine to me.”

 

His roommate only shook his head at his comment. “No, the piano came in too suddenly. The synth beats were too low and short in the beginning.”

 

Jimin didn’t say more. He figured he wasn’t able to analyze music the same way Yoongi did, or Namjoon and Hoseok.

 

It turned out each of the three intended to produce a song for their expressionary project. The longer he watched them going back and forth between instruments and typing commands in programs that Jimin didn’t recognize, the more surprised he was at their level of music production. He wasn’t even sure if the music students at his high school were this knowledgeable, and he was confident they’d be accepted into the honors program if they ever applied for his school.

 

He was further amazed when the three could rap, lyrics that were too fast for Jimin’s ears to catch on, yet words that felt raw, and heavy. If anything, the three’s work in progress looked more to be a performance for him than just three high school students working on som