Reflection | PJM

5| first fight

A/N: Hiiiiiii~ leave me some comments and vote, please! Love you if you made it this far in my book!

You tread to the dance studio with heavy eyelids. You finished the romance novel just before your alarm sounded, alerting you that it's time to get ready for another day.

Familiar with sleepless nights, you mentally float through the morning sessions and survive until your private session with Jimin.

You enter the private practice room and lean against the wall, sliding down until you thump on the ground.

You feel comfortable enough in Jimin's presence to wind down here, but your head spins as you're disturbed by his joyous claps. "Okay, let's learn the new choreo for your next assignment."

You shut your eyes and groan. "One second to rest, please!"

Jimin crouches before you and peers into your pale, tired face. "Couldn't sleep after I left?" he whispers and smirks.

You hit his arm, the muscles unsurprisingly rock-solid. He doesn't even flinch from his crouched position.

He's rather close to your face now but you feel completely undone due to the total lack of sleep. The dark bags under your eyes are embarrassing so you hide your face from him.

"Ah, don't get shy." He grabs your hands from your face and lifts you to a standing position. You don't fight him, and he handles you like a rag doll.

Your face is level with his chest, separated by mere centimeters, until he lifts your chin to make eye contact. Those blueish-grey contacts again.

You swat his hand from under your chin. Flustered, you wonder why this moment is making your heart rate increase without warning. "Okay, okay. Show me the new routine."

You dust your hands off and attempt to coolly lean against the wall with one shoulder.

After a chuckle, he gets right to it. Some hip thrusts, quick feet, trendy moves, and a body roll. You watch in amusement as he's lost in his own world, riding the rhythm of the music.

He reaches an arm out in desperation, then snaps it back suddenly and transitions to the next move. The muscles in his legs flex against his denim jeans with each step. Who wears denim to practice? The material of his white shirt is so thin it's practically see-through. When he does the body roll, you can see his shirt fall into the creases of his abdominal muscles.

He finishes the demonstration and turns to you, barely out of breath and not sweating at all.

Still feeling burnt out, and also turned on by his movements, you decide to fabricate a story to watch him dance again. "I'm so sorry, but I didn't catch all of that. I kind of dozed off in the middle of it."

You pout and shrug your shoulders childishly, batting your eyelashes to add an extra effect.

His mouth opens slightly, possibly from disbelief. "You fell asleep to my performance? No one can take their eyes off of my dance," he says confidently with his little hands on his hips.

You laugh but insist it's true. It doesn't seem like he buys the cheap excuse but after some playful convincing, he does the routine again.

This time you watch his reflection in the mirror to see his facial expressions. His expressions are delicate and never strained, sensual but aggressive, angelic but...sexy.

This time, when he finishes, his golden brown bangs are lightly sticking to his forehead.

Oh, he's sweating now. He looks hot...um...literally. You want to part his hair in the middle and let that forehead breathe.