My Light, My Jimin

Chapter 11: Office Hours

"It smells in here," he says, wrinkling his nose.

I can't help but chuckle, his statement sending a wave of relief through me. "It's gimbap."

He drops his backpack at his desk. He follows my gaze to the office and spots my lunch sitting on the desk inside. His expression turns ruefully amused- but he quickly sobers.

He slips off my cardigan, undressing in front of me while keeping his focus on the wall in front of him. I watch as the flesh of his arms peek out, toned and carved like a Greek statue. The sight is enough for my jaw to fall slowly until I'm looking at him with desire I never knew existed in me.

He looks across at me and I close my mouth. He holds up the cardigan to me. "As promised."

I silently take the sweater. Holding it makes me feel like I'm holding a piece of him. It's no longer my cardigan; it's his. Tainted with his scent. I still have no idea how I was able to teach while he sat at his desk with it on. It's a miracle I managed to get words out.

Jimin's face hardens. He draws in a breath. "I think I made things worse. Between me and Taehyung."

The sudden confession makes me pause. "Did something happen today?"

"Yes. And no." He drops his head into his hands. "I don't know."

Emotion bursts through my chest as I watch him, exhausted and defeated. I open my mouth to speak, but stop short when I see tears brimming in his eyes. They're meant to be hidden, but as soon as he notices I'm still here, he lets them fall. His breathing hitches as he tries to calm down. This does nothing for him.

I take a step forward, reaching out and taking his hands. "Jimin. I need you to breathe."

He nods and inhales shakily. I lift his hands gently, breathing deeply with him, making my breaths more pronounced as he follows along. In. Hold for four seconds. Out. In. Hold for four seconds. Out.

It's a steady progress, but he eventually calms down. His face is red, with his nose being the center of attention.

"Better?" I ask.

"Mhm," he mumbles. "I think this is the most I've cried in front of a teacher since elementary school."

I sigh dramatically. "Am I that awful to you?"

That makes him smile. He wipes the rest of the stray tears on the sleeves of his white shirt. "You're too good at this. How many others have you made cry?"

"What number would you like? A dozen? A hundred? None? All?"

"Such a heartbreaker," he teases.

"Who would keep count of such a thing? Besides, it was you who said I was cold and cruel. My reputation must precede me." I pause and move closer. "I can say with certainty that I don't want you to be in this category of mine."

He blushes, then shakes his head a little and looks out the window at the fountain. "This is your lunch break, right? I should be going now."

He's right, but put that way, my motives seem desperate, especially considering how close we are to each other right now. I frown.

"Have you eaten yet?"

He looks at me and hesitates.

I wait.

He sighs. "A few baby carrots, but that's all I need, really."

Then his stomach rumbles, completely contradicting his former statement. His face flushes as he avoids my gaze, choosing instead to look at the wall. I raise an eyebrow, but don't ask. The smirk on my face is enough to make him stick his tongue out at me.

How childish.

I bring my hand into a scissor gesture and pretend to snip his tongue off.

He laughs, and I join him. Our voices blend together to create a beautiful, playful sound. It reminds me of a distant memory, one that reminds me of home as a child. Back then, it all seemed so simple, so far away from the realities of the real world.

I let go of his hands, something I probably should have done sooner, and walk to my office to grab the gimbap. I set it on my desk and pull up a chair next to mine, offering it to Jimin. He's pleasantly surprised before he accepts, sitting next to me and taking the extra pair of chopsticks I saved from a recent trip to Panda Express.

"Did you make this?" he asks, his eyes growing wide as he looks for longer than I thought he would.

"No, I stole it from the homeless man down the street, put it in my own containers to take with me to work, and ate it right in front of him."

"Oh my god," he laughs. "That's dark, even for your outfit choices."

"Style has many varieties." I push the chopsticks toward him. "In all seriousness, these were from home. You're welcome to help yourself."

He looks from the chopsticks, to the gimbap, and back to me. As soon as I bring the roll to my lips, he follows suit. He unwraps the chopsticks and picks up a small roll, shoving it all in his mouth. His cheeks blow up, and his lips come together in a pout.

"That's really good," he says through a mouthful. "You should be a chef."

Again, I sigh dramatically. "But the pay here is so much nicer."

He chuckles and goes to eat more. We stay like this, finishing off the gimbap and joking about every comment the other makes. It's unlike any lunch I've ever had with Namjoon or Jin, this ability to be at ease with someone else. I don't need to think about what I say next, I just do.

It's so nice, in fact, that we stay in my class for the rest of the afternoon.