"If you ask me who on this campus is most likely to commit murder, I'd have only one person in mind."
"And who would that be?"
"You."
Kim Miran has two goals in life: One, to get through her final year as a Criminology major and graduate successfull...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Yoongi mumbles, his posture rigid and expression blank. A slight breeze ruffles his brown hair, causing a few stray fringes to spill over his forehead. But he makes no move to push the strands out of his eyes.
Miran is frozen in place, her mind reeling from Jimin’s sudden appearance. Her ex-boyfriend continues smiling, but his eyes widen slightly when he recognizes Yoongi.
“Am I interrupting something here?” he asks a little curtly but Yoongi doesn’t balk. He turns to Miran, the challenge on his face daring her to answer the question.
Jimin is looking at her strangely now, and Miran feels like a rag doll being pushed and pulled in opposite directions. She cannot reply, a million thoughts swarming her head all at once and Yoongi realizes it is futile to wait for something that will likely never happen.
So he slings his bag tighter over his shoulder and shoots Jimin the fakest and deadliest smile he can muster. “Of course not. What could you possibly be interrupting?” He turns, but not before he gleans a wave of something akin to disappointment flash in Miran’s eyes.
Yoongi walks away before she can discern a similar emotion in his own. ***
They end up going to the café Miran works at.
At this time in the afternoon, the place is almost empty, most patrons either elderly or workers from the business sector reveling in the cozy atmosphere before returning to their tedious jobs. Jimin hasn’t uttered a single word on the ride here despite knowing that Miran is brimming with questions. Behind the counter, Inha’s father fixes them with welcoming smiles and waves at them chirpily.
Miran waves back before settling at the booth Jimin has chosen in the corner of the café away from prying eyes. He wipes his brow, straightening his hair which is windswept as a result of her having rolled down the windows of her car.
“I don’t understand,” are the first words that come out of her mouth. But by the momentary hurt which flickers across Jimin’s features, she knows they are the wrong ones.
Nonetheless, he watches her amusedly. “I’m happy to see you, too.” Miran sighs, slumping in her chair and burrowing her face in her palms.
“I’m sorry. I’m just stumped, Jiminie. I mean, it’s barely been a month since you’ve been gone and now you’re back.” As if you never left.
Jimin chuckles softly and the sound is just as she remembers it. “I guess I owe you an explanation. I met Tae and Hobi before running into you. Thought I’d surprise you,” he says in a low voice. “But you surprised me, instead.” And Miran knows what is coming next. “Since when do you talk to Min Yoongi?”
There is no right way to answer this but she loathes lying to Jimin. “I had a message for him.” She hopes he will refrain from asking her to elaborate further. And he does. But what he asks her next isn’t something she fancies talking about, either.
