YOONGI
Like so many other things, sleep excludes me from its schedule.
I go through the morning running on fumes. Thankfully, classes have been easy enough to deal with. It's still early, and things could change.
I've hardly slept. I would like to blame the lumps in my mattress or the late night traffic, but in truth, it's Jimin's words that keep me on hold.
This time of year just isn't going well for me so far. It's too big to explain.
I can't think of why that is when the school semester just started. Perhaps it has to do with issues at home. But if that's the case, why stay here so late? Unless-
I stop these thoughts in their tracks. This line of thinking won't do me any favors. I need a distraction.
I pull my coat over my shoulders and grab my keys. A trip to the library always lifts my spirits. Sometimes, I don't even check out anything. I just like the quiet atmosphere, how the world leaves the space alone while it keeps working. I'm just about to leave the classroom when I spot students at the fountain. And Jimin is there.
Surprised, I spy out the window. There's two others who I recognize to be the two Jimin sits with- Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. There's no ease in his expression, no sign he's enjoying their company.
I can't hear them well, but I can read their lips. Taehyung is pleading with Jimin about something, pressing his palms together and repeating himself. He sounds guilty, and Jungkook looks ashamed.
Jimin looks like a snake, cornered and defensive with an icy glare. Even with glass separating us, I feel the impact.
Taehyung steps away from Jimin and moves behind Jungkook. They keep speaking, but Jimin ignores them, getting up to leave when Jungkook stops him. He shouts something like "forgive him," and anger takes over Jimin's face. Red and boiling over.
I can't identify the feeling that swells inside of me, hot and sudden. Like I'm out there with him. I wonder what they're saying, what words are cutting through to his skin. This plays out in front of me, and I've not yet stopped it. I can't. I'm too caught up in watching Jimin.
He shouts something, throwing his hands wildly in the air. Taehyung flinches. Jungkook takes a step forward. The tension tied around the three of them has me practically glued to the window, unable to do anything but watch.
Jungkook inhales like he wants to say something, but he must think better of it because he does nothing more than grab Taehyung's hand and lead him away. Jimin doesn't move.
My mood changes instantly. Fury wraps around me and finds its home deep inside. Never in all my years of teaching had I ever wished karma would come sooner to students of mine. If one of the staff were to show up and dissect my brain, they would be utterly horrified to know my thoughts right now.
Outside, a breeze sweeps up Jimin's black hair, making it wild when he looks at me. He has this uncanny talent of making a silent room even more quiet.
I hold his gaze. If he wants to come and say something to me, he doesn't. The red rimmed color below his eyes gives away his need to cry. No tears escape him, and even from here, I can tell it's getting harder for him.
We sit there silently staring at each other until he moves first, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and running out of frame.
Seconds later, I hear a light knock.
Jimin stands at the doorway, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Are you done teaching?"
His nose twitches, and he doesn't look me in the eye. I've won this round, but all I feel is a bitter sympathy. "Yes."
As soon as I answer, he walks right past me, sets his backpack on his desk, and throws his head on the makeshift pillow. His tiny hands shield his face. He must be crying because his shoulders jut out just the slightest and return back to his body in a jittery movement.
I turn my back to him and grab the chalk to the board. I take my time erasing and rewriting the date in the corner. When that's done, I peek behind my shoulder at him. His face is red, tear-stained, and yet still pretty.
"You write weird," he says, voice barely above a whisper.
I glance down at the chalk. "You think so?"
"Your handwriting can tell a lot about yourself," he mumbles. "It's our signatures that show who we are. Like fingerprints."
"Would you like to write the date?" I turn and erase the board, all evidence of me gone in a single swipe.
Jimin watches me. The indecision is clear on his face. He stands without leaving my gaze, carefully walking toward me and wordlessly taking the chalk.
He lifts his arm, the sound of chalk scraping against the board in taps of three. We're silent beside each other, with me being aware of just how close he is to me. How I have to look down to reach his eyes. Jimin has to stand on his toes, a clear refusal to let his height get the better of him.
"You seem to have a knack for finding trouble," I tell him.
He's silent for a bit, but I know it was sudden. I wait for him.
Eventually, he says, "I wasn't looking for it. They were the ones who brought it to me."
"Does that happen often?"
"No." He pauses. "This is the first time I've said it out loud."
He says it with bitter, but I can't tell if it's toward them or himself. Beside me, his posture sinks. "I thought I was strong, holding myself together for so long." He chuckles humorlessly. "I guess it wasn't enough."
He goes quiet again. His words settling in both of us. I don't know what to do, whether or not I should give him to the guidance counselor for professional help. But the thought of sending him away now hurts me. Even if I'm not certified, I am human. And that may be the difference between me and a stranger.
I open one of the drawers to my desk and retrieve a handful of tissues. I don't know how many is enough, but I give them all to Jimin anyway. He bunches them all together and dabs the corners of his eyes.
"Are you gonna report it? What you saw?"
"No." I keep my tone low, gentle. Honestly, I shouldn't be harboring secrets for students, nor should I be biased, but I am.
"Why?"
His eyes are surprised at my response, wide, but curious. He's worried he'll get in trouble.
"Hurting someone's feelings is as easy as throwing a rock into a lake. . ." I say, searching for the right words. "You don't know how deep that rock sinks down."
Jimin is quiet as a ghost beside me. He dusts the chalk off his hands and goes to collect his backpack. I notice his heavy feet, how he chooses to weave between specific desks. He pulls out a notebook and pencil, scribbling fast in rushed handwriting that's very different compared to mine. So that's what he meant before.
"What are you writing?"
He doesn't look up. "A quote."
"From who?"
He lifts his gaze through his eyelashes. "From you. It's what you just said. I want to remember it."
Clearly my shock is reflected on my face because Jimin laughs. "What? Hasn't anyone done this before?"
"Not with my words, no."
He smirks. "Then I guess they're not listening."
My cheeks flare. I focus my attention back on the board. I had no idea his words would affect me this greatly, how someone as small as him would bring out something protective in me.
Jimin's eyes do not leave me. He tucks the pencil behind his ear and closes the notebook. Even with me saying nothing, he's absorbing me.
"You're not scary."
I nearly smile. "What makes you say that?"
"You just. . . I don't know," he pauses, and something hesitant flickers across his face. Before I can figure it out, he says, "You're different."
There are so many things that run through my mind. Different how? Is that good? Does being different mean that he trusts me?
I patiently wait for him to finish, but he puts away his notebook and slings his backpack over one shoulder. He starts toward the door when he gets caught by something, a fleeting thought.
He turns to me. "Will you tell anyone?"
"What do you mean?"
He glances at me, then once he's satisfied, lifts the corners of his pouty lips. "Exactly."
He leaves without a goodbye, and I have to close the door behind him so he doesn't see how fast I breathe. The world seems to shift, like I'm hearing my own heartbeat for the first time. I want him back, to stand with me, to just give me one more second.