YOONGI
I'm finished with my lecture before time is up, a habit I've grown accustomed to, and give time to the students for themselves. They don't complain, in fact, I think they appreciate me more than anything. There's still fifteen minutes of class left, so I sit behind my desk and call Jimin's name.
His head snaps up. He's just as surprised as I am, but I switch back to professor-mode and gesture for him to see me. His chair scrapes against the floor just as Jungkook's pencil drops from a cramped hand. For a moment, I see their eyes lock, and I feel his eyes watch the back of Jimin's head as he takes a seat next to me.
If anyone wonders what he and I are doing, they don't show it. Around the room, everyone's head is ducked down in concentration. It's as though they're all in another world and Jimin and I are in another. He's so close I can smell the hint of coffee and citrus in his hair.
"Is something wrong, professor?" He says this uneasily, like he's been put on trial and awaiting his execution. I take my pen and his essay I printed out as my own personal copy. While he isn't a literary genius, he does write well, even going so far to point out some irony in our last short story we discussed that I had not picked up on in my few years of teaching. He's talented, and if he applied himself, I wouldn't be surprised to find a book of his on a shelf.
I bring my pen down to the page where the date is written in the corner. Below the typed numbers is my own handwriting:
Date: Meet here. 6:00 P.M.
My eyes dart to Jimin's reaction. He flicks his gaze to me, then to the class in front of us. This, I realize, might have been too reckless of me to ask, especially when he's in a social setting of friends. But if I were to say the truth, I find no one he can truly call his friend.
He is embarrassed, which means I failed. So I tap my pen twice to subtly grab his attention. "I don't mean to embarrass you," I say, speaking in code, something only he would understand the meaning of. To the rest, it sounds like I'm critiquing his essay.
He shakes his head. "I'm not embarrassed." Then he points to my note and lowers his voice, "I think this will work just fine."
Shielded by the desk, I reach down and pat his knee gingerly, and I don't look at him. I'm hoping my touch will signal my thoughts, that I'm relieved to know he accepts my invite, when his hand brushes against mine. I keep my focus on my papers, so I have no idea whether he realizes what he's doing or not, but when he stands and moves away from me, my hand is suddenly cold.
Then class is over. I spend the rest of the day in a blur, too caught up in my plan for tonight. Even still, I work until I spot faculty cars drive off into the night. The cool autumn breeze finds its way around campus, making me shiver and bundle up in my cardigan, the faint smell of Jimin still lingering.
Before long, the door draws open and I watch him scan the room before fully entering and shutting the door behind him.
"It's late," Jimin says. "I don't have a ride to the dorms."
"Leave that to me," I say. "For now, I wanted to celebrate your accomplishment you told me about this morning. Your new part-time job."
He says nothing as I take his hand and lead him to the door. Tension has begun a slow crawl up my spine, but I rest my free hand on the door knob and turn it. Behind me, Jimin grabs my arm.
"What are you doing? We might be seen!"
I lean close and drop my voice. "I would be surprised if anyone would approach. It's well after work hours and I happen to need a few things at the library."
His eyes widen. "But how will you get in? Only Ms. Sumin has—"
I dig in my pockets and dangle the set of keys in front of him. Jimin laughs, like I'm playing a joke. He shakes his head and follows me outside, keeping hold of my hand like I'm the Phantom of the Opera, leading my muse away from reality. If only it were that simple.
When we arrive to the library, I unlock the doors and punch in the password to disable the alarm systems. Ms. Sumin did not hesitate to give me the keys when I asked her earlier today if I could work in the library grading papers after my computer "died". She, to my surprise, allowed me to work as long as I needed, claiming that I was the only trustworthy person in this entire workspace. And while that is true, I'm going behind her back, and everyone's back, to bring a student with me.
Once we step inside, however, I don't regret anything. Jimin wanders upstairs and through shadows of the book aisles. He weaves in the darkness with a big grin on his face, like a child first seeing the ocean. It's beautiful and innocent and warms my soul.
"It's so weird being in a library at night," he says with a chuckle. "I guess that shows how much I study."
"How admirable that you're willing to divulge that information with me." I move where he stands, to the fiction section, to the S–U section to be specific, and watch him pick up a small book and flip through the pages with a thoughtful look on his face.
He reads and grins, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. I join him and he shows me the cover of a small boy standing on a planet, staring into the blue space beyond. "The Little Prince," he smiles. "One of my favorite books growing up."
I trace the spine with my fingers. It's an old copy, but the way he holds it makes me feel like the book is priceless, and to him, maybe it is. I hold out my hand and take him to the plush chairs, pulling two side by side.
He takes a seat and I join him. When I turn to shift in my seat, he slides closer to me. Whether by accident or intent, I'm not sure, but I can feel his warmth. When I place my arm over his shoulder, I leave it there.
He does not pull away. He leans closer to me before the arm of the chair blocks us. We move to the floor.
I pull him toward me and he turns to me and smiles. His body finds mine and his head falls on my chest, arms out for both of us to read. I lean in again and whisper in his ear as I read. "'Once when I was six years old I saw a beautiful picture. . . '"
"Are you my personal audiobook now?" He jokes.
"If I am, then I'm not very good at my job. That may have to do with the fact that I get interrupted." I take the book from his hand and raise it for both of us to see. My arm rests around his shoulder, my fingers closing around his as we sit together, breathe together, be together.
Jimin sighs against me and I smile. "Tired already?"
"It's your voice," he tells me. "It puts me to sleep, but I like it. Will you keep reading for me? Please?"
I find it amusing that he keeps asking, as if I would not do this a million more times. I read a few more short chapters, even switching my voice for different characters which earns me a laugh from Jimin.
When I take a pause from reading, he lifts his face so his mouth almost touches my neck and I stay as still as I can. It's how he stares at me, like he's pushing something down within him, that makes me inhale to assure him that we don't have to do anything when I feel the press of his lips on my skin. It's only a half kiss, but it makes me shudder like I'm being pulled underwater.
I kiss the top of his head, and again, he kisses my neck. I lean back, allowing him to explore. He kisses my Adam's Apple and quickly swipes his tongue across my skin like a cat before leaving a trail of kisses up my neck, jaw, and eventually to my lips.
I squeeze his shoulder, bring him closer. My adoration for him fills me up until I can barely breathe. I'm a selfish man. A greedy one. And I want him all to myself.
I cup his cheek. In the darkness, I can still see the light in his eyes. My chest warms, heart beating harshly against my ribs. All he does in response is smiles.
I've spent most of my life feeling less than. I spent countless years playing songs out of irritation and spite, all to prove myself to my Oppa that I'm more than he believed. For years, I thought I had lost the ability to see the world with a melody.
Who knew all I ever needed, this whole time was him.
My student.
And he makes me feel like the most powerful and weakest man in the world.