Monday was all sorts of unpleasant for Jimin, to say the least.

He stopped by The Golden Spoon on his way to school, hoping to find it void of students so that he could get his Wake-up Call with extra sugar today. He hadn't slept well last night. Or the night before. He didn't want to admit it but Jimin had been out of it ever since that Saturday morning. That morning, just two days ago, when he had seen Yoongi's blood on his fingers, when Yoongi had finally looked at him, when he first heard Yoongi speak to him.

And the words he said.

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt a little, but this is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Pushing open the coffeeshop door, Jimin bit his tongue and struggled to suppress the memory of those words, of Yoongi's eyes.

Yoongi's beautiful, russet eyes...

Stop it, Jimin. Stop it right now.

He swore under his breath, lifting his eyes towards the counter towards the front counter where a barista was in the middle of taking the order of a familiar boy.

"And $3.95 is your total—oh, good morning, Jimin!"

A friendly wave was sent his way by the woman behind the counter. And the boy whose order she had just taken turned slowly around to face the door, too.

It was Yoongi. Of course it was Yoongi.

Something possessed Jimin to turn away—yes, this time, it was him turning his face away from Yoongi, and not the other way around. But the second those russet eyes found him, there was a sharp and painful click in Jimin's chest that compelled him to avoid eye contact, to avoid contact at all. And he didn't know why. He typically never let anything, anyone get in the way of his morning coffee, no matter what the circumstances, even if a particularly annoying student happened to be in the shop, or if the line were especially long.

But that click in his chest. It triggered the memory of two days ago, that Saturday morning.

Stupid pastel boy, you insufferable boy.

He stormed away from the shop and down the sidewalk towards Daesung High. Well, he started to, anyway.

"Heyy, ChimChim, good mo-..."

The boy who spoke stopped mid-sentence for a number of reasons.

One: being Park Jimin's close (and only) friend, he knew just about all the boy's habits and routines, such as the fact Jimin always walked out of The Golden Spoon each morning with some sort of coffee in his hand.

Two: he didn't usually exit said coffeeshop looking particularly troubled.

Three: Jimin also didn't usually act so alarmed to see him, especially since they often met at the aforementioned coffeeshop before walking to school.

That being said, Kim Namjoon was quite puzzled by Jimin's reaction to his being here right now.

Tilting his head to one side, the blonde pulled a slightly amused expression, then stifled a laugh as he watched his friend try to collect himself. "What's with you?" He said in a teasing voice. Jimin scowled.

"Nothing."

"Where's your coffee?"

"Don't want coffee this morning. And neither do you. Let's go."

Namjoon snorted as Jimin gave him a little push on his way. "Why's that? Barista a little too cute for you?"

"Very funny, Namjoon. The barista's a woman."

"Oh, so that's what ruined your morning."

With that cheeky comment, Namjoon knew he was about to get hit, and so he made a small dash to escape the reach of Jimin's hand and just barely succeeded. He slowed his pace right after to match Jimin's again.

"No, really, though." He leaned forward and inspected his friend's face. "Ya look..."

"If you say 'cute' I might kick your shins."

"I was gonna say 'upset' but fine, be like that."

Jimin bit down on his tongue, staring at his feet as he walked. The mid-November winds nipped at his nose and neck, but he was far too obstinate a person to wear scarves or a jacket heavier than the one he had on. He sighed quiet enough so Namjoon wouldn't hear. Then he mumbled, "I'm not upset. I don't even know why you'd say that. You're a stupid boy, Kim Namjoon. Almost as stupid as the pastel boy."

"The pastel boy, huh?"

After saying this, Namjoon hummed softly and gave a nod of understanding—understanding. Jimin could tell it was of understanding, and he made no hesitation to justify himself.

"Whatever you're thinking is wrong," he snapped. "The reason I'm upset has nothing to do with that brat."

"Ah, so you're admitting to being upset now."

"Wh-" You clever little bastard.

Facing his defeat, Jimin shoved his hands into his pockets then sighed loud enough for Namjoon to hear this time. But still, he tried not to show the full extent of his mood outwardly, partially because he didn't want to believe he was upset over this in the first place.

"Soooo..." Namjoon paused at his friend's silence. "Ya gonna spill or am I gonna have to tickle you?"

"Okay, honestly, what is wrong with you...?"

The blonde chuckled. Jimin sighed again.

"C'mon, man, I'm actually worried over here," Namjoon said more softly and in a more genuine tone. He meant what he said, after all. And no words of Jimin's could ever fool him. The two had known each other since middle school, and Namjoon was smart enough by now to know that a person's words were only as honest as the gleam in their eye. And right now Jimin's gleam was wavering considerably. "Chim?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Classic response. Would angrily texting me suffice?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. I'll be waiting for it."

So he did. He waited until the two of them arrived at the school building, walked down the halls, and entered their two separate classrooms, because yes, Namjoon and Jimin weren't fortunate enough to share a class this year. But they still met at lunch and at PE and occasionally in between classes.

Jimin made his way over to his seat towards the left side of the room and sat down, then immediately took out his phone. Namjoon had done the same.

Juneberry:
k so u gonna spill

Me:
what is there to spill

Juneberry:
well certainly not coffee
Seeing as u didn't get any this morning
And u always get coffee in the morning
so

Me:
...

Juneberry:
Don't text me a ellipsis -_-
that's equivalent to ignoring me

Me:
wtvr
I didn't get coffee
cuz I saw the pastel boy at the shop
and I didn't feel like
being bothered this morning ok

Juneberry:
ok
but since when
Park Chim Chim
did u start letting that boy get
in the way of ur morning coffee

Me:
since two days ago

Juneberry:
Saturday huh?
what happened Saturday

Me:
nothin ive already told u enough
leave me alone

Juneberry:
u only tell me to leave u alone
when smth is actually wrong

Me:
shut up

Juneberry:
dont make me tell ur sister

Me:
dont
she's even more annoyingly
persistent than u

Juneberry:
precisely
so

Me:
i hurt the pastel boy

Juneberry:
and that bothers u?
i thought u hated him

Me:
i do
of course i do
but i dont know what came over me
i
actually physically hurt him

Juneberry:
chim chim...
was it an accident?

Me:
technically i cant say that it was
but i saw his blood on my fingers
and i
he

Juneberry:
he what jimin

Me:
he finally spoke to me
i don't like what he said
i don't like what he said at all

Juneberry:
brush it off

Me:
i don't like change namjoon
i don't
ugh
i wish he'd never looked at me

Juneberry:
what did he say to u chim

Me:
nothin
don't worry about it

Juneberry:
mm
so basically what ur saying is
u feel guilty now

Me:
no
im pissed
im so pissed

Juneberry:
chim chim
don't stress about it ok
i wish youd tell me what he said but
if it was smth ur taking personally
don't let it bother u ok?

Don't let it bother me? Don't let it bother me. Right. Like I choose to let things bother me.

Deep down, Jimin appreciated Namjoon's attempts to comfort him, but that was far beneath many, many layers of stubbornness. He shoved his phone in the pocket of his jeans and sunk into his chair. Minutes passed, students gradually filling the seats shortly before the bell for the start of first period was to ring. And one of those people happened to be the pastel boy, seeing as he, unlike Namjoon, was in Jimin's class. And on his way to his seat, located in the back corner of the room, Yoongi passed by Jimin's desk, and Jimin could have sworn he heard the boy utter a soft 'good morning.'

But that couldn't be right. No. Why on earth would Yoongi ever say good morning to him?

Granted, the boy said good morning to everyone he passed by, but Jimin was an entirely different story. It didn't make sense. It made absolutely no freaking sense. And Jimin was so tempted to extend his leg and trip the pastel boy as he passed; however that annoying click in his chest went off again. His leg froze.

"Not feeling it this time, huh, Jimin?" The boy who sat behind Jimin chuckled, but Jimin ignored him.

He was too bothered by Yoongi to be bothered by anyone else. He hated it.

So he contemplated for a while, then by lunch time arrived at the decision that he couldn't deal with it and needed to have another talk with Yoongi--that is, given the pastel boy would speak to him this time. If he didn't, then perhaps more harsh measures would need to be taken.

The thought of repeating the events of that Saturday morning made Jimin feel sick. He discarded the thought and went to the cafeteria without telling Namjoon.

Typically every day at lunch, Yoongi sat at the very same table along with three other boys--a redhead named Hoseok who had way too much energy for a teenager, a broad-shouldered kid who almost always had his cheeks full of food every time Jimin happened to lay eyes on him, and a somewhat quiet brown-haired kid named Jungkook who always sat directly beside Yoongi at the table.

Jimin began to approach that table. And as if sensing this, the redhead outstretched his arms and whispered harshly, "The challenger draws near. Battle formation!"

Jimin could already feel his scowl and he wasn't even within twenty feet of the table. Do they think I can't hear them?

"Hey."

At Jimin's arrival, Hoseok raised his head suddenly and blurted, "Sorry, Yoongi's caught peh-numonia, he's in the process of dying. Please come back later!"

"Hobi, the 'p' in pneumonia is silent."

"And so should you be, Jin."

"Um, okay, wow. And who's the one who asked who for help in grammar recentl-"

Impatience quickly got the best of Jimin. He slammed his hand down on the surface of the table, urging all four boys to look at him--well, three of them did. Yoongi continued to eat his food in silence.

"Oh, back to ignoring me again, huh?" He snapped. At this, Yoongi slowly set down his chopsticks and turned towards Jimin.

And there he saw them: first, a new pair of glasses, rectangular instead of his usual round ones, which had been broken (by Jimin), and second, a patch of sorts on Yoongi's right cheek, right where Jimin's nails had drawn blood two days ago. He stared at it for longer than he realized. The thing that brought him back to reality was a soft voice coming from Yoongi's other side.

"Yoongi's dog scratched him real bad, and he says it still really hurts, so please leave him alone for today, Jimin."

The boy just as quiet as Yoongi, Jungkook, was now looking at Jimin with tenderly pleading eyes. But Jimin had been pushed even further in the wrong direction by the lie Jungkook had told, the lie Jungkook probably didn't know was a lie.

"I'm not gonna do anything to him," he insisted firmly. "We just need to talk."

"Right. Naturally." Hoseok frowned and looked up at Jimin with a pout. "What does 'talk' mean in your vocabulary?"

"What it means in anyone else's."

"Of course. Well, you heard Jungkook, I'm sure, so if you could just kindly-"

"Hobi."

The redhead stopped at Yoongi's interruption.

"It's fine."

"It's not fine," Seokjin whispered from across the table. "Who knows what he'll do to you if we just let you go??"

"He's never actually hurt me before. I don't think he'd start now."

With that lie leaving his lips, Yoongi rose to his feet and stepped over the bench, and immediately his forearm was gripped by Jimin, who made no hesitation to pull him all the way over to the cafeteria's exit, then out into the hallway where few students were at this time of the day. He let go of Yoongi then.

"Explain yourself."

"I don't understand what you mean."

So he is talking to me.

"You know what I mean," Jimin hissed, hardening his glare at the pastel boy, who remained almost expressionless. "First of all, do you think you're funny or something? This morning, when you passed by my desk."

Yoongi opened his mouth, then paused, confusion now painted across his face. "I...said 'good morning.' Did you mishear me?"

"No, I didn't mishear you. What'd you say that for??"

"I don't get what's so bizarre about saying 'good morning' to someone in the morning."

Jimin honestly couldn't tell if Yoongi were messing with him or if he were genuinely puzzled by Jimin's reaction. Either way, the second issue he had with the pastel boy was far more pressing than the first.

"Why'd you lie? That bull crap about your dog." Jimin scarcely resisted the urge to grab Yoongi's arm again. "Is lying to your friends just something you do casually? If anything, it would make more sense to elaborate the story to make them hate me more. Not...put the blame on something else. I don't get it."

"Yeah, it was actually kinda difficult to get them to believe me at first," Yoongi confessed with a sigh, lifting his hand to touch the patch. "They know how much my dog loves me, so they were really skeptical when I told them. But then I explained that Holly wasn't feeling well and also got really upset at me when I took his toy away from him. Eventually, they bought it."

"You didn't answer my question," Jimin said, still in a frustrated tone but he spoke quieter this time. "Why'd you try to get them to believe a lie in the first place?"

"They already don't like you. Why would I want them to hate you more? You didn't do anything to them."

That sickening feeling in Jimin's stomach deepened.

"But I did something to you."

Silence settled for a time. In that time, Jimin stared into Yoongi's eyes, analyzing them, trying to figure him out. And Yoongi did the same to him, except unbeknownst to Jimin, Yoongi had already figured him out.

"If you're looking for me to hate you, Park Jimin, you're going to have to try harder than that."

*

*

a/n:
owo