"I'd just like to be yours and I guess I want you to be mine."
"Sweetheart, that's not weird. It's cute."
･ﾟ:* jimin is a sad ballerina, who falls for the lies of taehyung, a mysterious photographer who is nothing but trouble.
( complete )
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JIMIN .
Their eyes are on me, just as they were last time, but, this is my first time really noticing them. Throughout the audition, my head had been so filled with thoughts of Taehyung, that I barely noticed them. My limbs are contaminated with sweat and my breathing is erratic, my chest raising and falling in a sporadic manner. I can feel my heart knotting within the depths of my chest, a lump in my throat making the urge to cry a tad more pronounced.
A loud and humbling upsurge of surprised applause sounds throughout the shadowed audience, and I take a small bow, before running off the stage, into the embrace of a dumbly proud Hoseok and Jungkook.
"That was awesome, Jimin, how the fuck did you pull that off?" Jungkook asks me joyfully, pulling out of the embrace so he can shake my shoulder.
"It was just an audition, dude, it's not that spectacular." I chuckle, although, admittedly, I am buzzing with handy paroxysms of pride, a stupor of joy rifling through me, due to not having be forced into stagnation and actually performing to the best of my ability (for once).
"Yeah, but it's like the first audition you've completed without, you know..." Hoseok does a fluttery gesture with his hand to express the sentence he's unable to complete.
"Mm, I know, I don't know how I did it either," I grin, sharing their excitement and my delirium is so immense that it is emancipated through a little jump of my body, "I was just fixed on trying to get the part for Taehyung."
"Ahhhh." They coo in unison, before Jungkook adds a, "now it all makes sense."
I can't help but release a gleeful grin, Taehyung's face still protuberant in my mind, as it has been ever since I met him.
°•ิ.•
"I didn't get the lead," I tell Taehyung with a twiddle of my fingers. Currently, we're sat in our usual spot, opposite each other on the floor with crossed legs, "but I didn't freeze up while dancing."
Taehyung smiles genuinely, the flaxen streaks of sun leaving his skin glowing, the residue of the sun's sticky fingers clinging to his aureate skin, his eyes, drenched in honey-kissed warmth, squinting due to the rays pounding against his celestial face, "honestly, that's awesome, Jim! I knew you could do it," he claps his hands together, "who cares if you didn't get the lead? It's probably a bullshit part anyway—"
"Hoseok got it." I interrupt him, somewhat amused by his reaction, but pausing him before he can create coherent sentences conveying unintentional distaste toward one of my best friends.
