“You’re what?” Jimin stared at the freshman who was now slinging his bookbag onto his shoulders.

 

“I’m done practicing for the day. Mind you, I was here for six days when you were datin—I mean, spending time with your friend.”

 

“You’re going to leave me to dance alone?”

 

“You think he’s coming to watch me dance?”

 

“Pretty sure he’s coming to watch us dance.”

 

“Uh, from what I recall you told me, I don’t think my name was mentioned anywhere in the conversation?”

 

Jimin rubbed his face. He could not believe he was about to do an incomplete, imperfect, unmastered, solo dance in front of an audience—well, more so a single spectator. He remembered his roommate’s progress on his project when he visited the music studio the previous afternoon and the impressive result, and he could not help but consider how much better his work was. He knew he was comparing apples to oranges, but Yoongi’s draft sounded a lot more polished than the looks of his unstable footwork.

 

“Besides, how would we dance together if we’re doing different dances? Also, why are you getting so worked up? It’s not like he’s your boyfriend.”

 

Jimin groaned and gestured to the door. “Just go.”

 

 

Yoongi raked his fingers through his hair as he sauntered to the dance studio. He didn’t realize how close it was to the music studio until now, and wondered how much more of the campus he had yet to explore.

 

It wasn’t entirely his intention to check on Jimin’s progress on the project. He meant to , really, until the curiosity in Jimin’s dance skills dawned on him. And knowing Jimin, the sophomore definitely took him seriously; the younger male wasn’t too good at taking jokes. If he didn’t stop by the dance studio, Jimin probably wouldn’t complain or say anything, except he’d sulk like a pup despite protesting the previous day on how much he didn’t want to dance in front of him.

 

He peered into the dance studio, faintly hearing classical music in the background. Right away, he could tell Jimin was “in the zone,” something he’d experience when he became extremely focused on his work. The way Jimin stared and examined his reflection on the mirror was entirely different from his usual clumsy character. One may even claim arguably, this wasn’t Jimin.

 

Instead of knocking, Yoongi slipped inside and closed the door carefully behind him as he didn’t want to disturb Jimin’s high concentration with any loud noise. The younger male didn’t seem to notice his presence because his eyes never left his own form on the mirror. It wasn’t until Yoongi set his bookbag down on the ground and sat against the wall that Jimin finally caught his reflection on the mirror as he jumped and whirled back at him.

 

“Jesus Christ, ever heard of knocking?” Jimin shouted over the music.

 

“Didn’t want to disrupt your concentration,” he replied, although Jimin probably couldn’t hear him with the music playing.

 

His roommate walked over to the stereo and turned off the music. “Can you wear white or a color that’s not black for just a day? Thought it was the Grim Reaper here to get me.”

 

“Are you saying my fashion is disrupting you now?”

 

Jimin brushed his question off and panted with a lower voice, “You really came.”

 

“Uh-huh, and I see that you kicked Jungkook out. I have high expectations now.”

 

The younger male groaned and moved back to the stereo. “I warned you already, it’s not that great.”

 

Yoongi didn’t reply and instead waited for Jimin to regather himself after turning the music back on. The dancer shifted his right foot behind him and raised his arms, allowing his limbs to naturally move along to the first resonant notes of cello. The melody continued with an additional set of string instruments, followed by a synthesized organ as Jimin spun nimbly. His limbs carried him lightly around the room, yet the movements were sharp and strong. It was a different form of dance, the elements contradicting and matching each other all at once. And to be able to express such an intense sentiment of longing in the midst of all this, Yoongi recognized Jimin to be a talented dancer almost immediately.

 

When Jimin’s choreography ended, Yoongi found himself drifting in a sea of emotions that he could not explicitly identify. It was a strange experience, although not in a bad way.

 

Jimin ambled towards Yoongi after he turned off the music for the second time. “What do you think?” He breathed and sat in front of Yoongi.

 

“It’s… Well…” Yoongi paused in thought. “How should I say it—”

 

Jimin lowered his head and mumbled, “Was it that bad?”

 

“No,” he quickly replied and Jimin looked up at him expectantly, “it’s… Beautiful.”

 

The dancer widened his eyes. “You really think so?”

 

Yoongi nodded with a hum, unsure of what else to add. However, the grin that spread on Jimin’s face was enough to indicate that he was satisfied with his compliment.

 

Jimin sighed in relief. “I was worried it’d disappoint you.”

 

“I shouldn’t have anything to do with your—”

 

Yoongi froze when the sophomore abruptly pulled him into a hug. He wasn’t sure how to react, but all his senses suddenly heightened somehow. He could feel Jimin’s warm, but sticky skin brushing against his as the other wrapped his arms tightly around his shoulder; he could smell a mix of deodorant, sweat, and laundry detergent from Jimin’s white tee; and he could hear Jimin’s unsteady breathing, probably still recovering from the earlier dance session. But above all, he could feel Jimin’s heart pounding rapidly against his ribcage; and he had a feeling that his heart may be pounding rapidly against Jimin’s as well.

 

“Thank you,” Jimin’s breath tickled his ear, “it means a lot.”

 

Yoongi brought his hands on Jimin’s waist, hesitantly returning the hug, although only for a brief moment before he lightly pushed the boy away.

 

“Okay, get off me. You’re a sweaty mess