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Jimin was a sweetheart. He was kind, gracious, polite, charming, genuine, honest but most importantly; he was in love. And maybe no one would ever understand. And maybe… it was for the best. Because in reality, no one really knew him.
He was ‘known’ for good grades plus fun times. No in between. He went to parties just on weekends, except on sundays. Because sundays are for studying and recovering, sort of; gathering yourself together before the working weeks starts.
He was a ballet dancer, the best on his crew. But he was majoring in contemporary dance at the university. He was talented, a little beyond talented, teachers would say. He wasn’t in an unnecessary yet totally imposed by others search for perfection. He did the things he loved and he simply did them with passion.
Nobody really knew who he was in love with, they simply knew he was. Because in fairy tales, everyone always seems to know everything about everyone, and Jimin was definitely living in his own.
He felt giddy. Every step he gave, giving life to his very own Siegfried. He jumped, he was supposed to be all impressed and lovey-dovey with his Odile but he felt too happy. He couldn’t help the smile displayed in his face as he turned in himself over and over. The pas de deux coming to an end, and with it the practice.
His ballet school was nursing to perfection a play, Swan Lake to be exact. It was going to be presented at the end of the year in a very fancy theater. Where a lot of important people would be, people that could perhaps make them famous, worldwide even. But that’s not even close the reason for the blonde’s happiness.
He held the ballerina by the waist to spin her around a few more times. The lithe girl copying his smile through the mirror. They separated to finish the encounter, Jimin went on one knee and held the girl’s hands in his before he pressed his cheek on them. Sightly panting but smiling wide nonetheless. Felt the movement of his partner, obviously raising one of her arms to her backside to finish the pose. They were done.
“What got you in such a good mood Jimin?” the ballerina asked as soon as the music stopped. “Is it the play?” she asked inquiring. And even if they were partners and colleagues, they weren’t friends. She just wanted to know, because everyone always wants to know.
“No, of course not” he carded his fingers through his damp hair. And surely not, that was not the reason either.
“What is it then?” another dancer asked, nosing his way into the conversation. “You were cheesing pretty hard in there” he finished and Jimin could not help the small giggles leaving his lips. “Still are” He added as a second thought.
“I’m just happy, I-” he exhaled, because he had to. Just thinking about it made his heart do a lot of contempt noises and jump pretty hard in such a tiny space. “It’s my boyfriend” he said simply and the other two raised their eyebrows. The boy talked hours about this mystery of a man, but not even once he said his name. Because no one needed to understand. No one needed to get involved but them.
“What about him?” a third eavesdropper asked in tune. And you could see how everyone was actually paying attention to the conversation.
“He’s coming back tonight” he said dreamily, and the rest nodded in understanding, some of them dramatically oohed and ahead.
“Oh, I didn’t knew he was gone” asked a little confused his Odile player.
“Yes he was,” he said before giving a non technical pirouette. The small group snickered at him. “He was working in another city, he got invited to a thing about his work” he said with a shy smile. One of the dancers in the room made an awkward expression and talked to someone else in the room who look surprised upon hearing.
That same ballerina perked up “Are you sure it’s work?” she said salty and Jimin nodded “Because men tend to lie like that when they’re having an affair” she answered and Jimin expected that for sure. He scrunched up his nose at her comment, smile never faltering.
“Thank god you don’t have to worry about that, now do you?” he said half jokingly and the rest snickered again.
“So you’re going home now?” The Odile dancer asked. Seeming curious again.
“Not really, I’m thinking in staying a little longer” he said standing straight again.
The girl seemed a little confused. “But I thought-” she interrupted herself “Is your boyfriend coming late?” she corrected and Jimin hummed in affirmative.
“He’s coming tonight late but I can’t wait. I’ve missed him like crazy” he said moving along the soft tune that never seemed to be missing in the room once the music from the play was stopped.
“Has he been away for long?” the third dancer asked.
“Two months” he said a little defeated at the thought. “I feel like I’m having withdrawals when he’s not around” he whined and his non friends laughed.
“Well, I was planning on staying too so… Maybe we can practice again” the girl asked and Jimin nodded.
The were all going to stay, because there was a chance for them to know more about the boy. The man who had Jimin swooning, the one and only that he always seemed to be talking about, with or to. They always wanted breadcrumbs about him, always vulturing for something to gossip about. Always ready to cling dirty laundry on Jimin’s behalf.
But he couldn’t care less; he was craving soft hands with rough touches, delicious lips with harsh bites, gentle caress with hard pulls. The amazing smell of perfume with a slight smoky afterthought. The feeling of black leather and overused jeans. The sound of concrete under heavy boots. Soft pale skin against his own golden one. Snarky comments and bad words. Soft piano tunes and defined colored scar lines. He wanted to feel the mess the elder created in his mind, in his heart, in his life. He desired the soft I love you’s whispered directly in his mouth with tingly spanks in the backside of his thighs. The bite marks , the kisses , the good mornings , the good nights , the hello’s , the goodbye’s , I’ll see you later , I want to see you now, come in, stay the night, don’t leave, I missed you, I love you, I want you, I need you, don’t cry, don’t be afraid, I’m here, I’ll always be here, you’re mine, I’m yours, I love you, baby, doll, princess, I love you more, kitten, darling, my dear, beautiful, I love you, honey, I dreamed about you last night, I love you, I love you, I love you…
Jimin felt like crying or dying, maybe even flying just thinking about his ocean haired boy. He practiced, and practiced until his feet hurt, he twirled, he pirouetted, he jumped, he lifted, jetéd, he posed just to move again but nothing seemed to get rid of the overjoy.
He almost jumped out of his skin when he faintly heard a muffled roar of a bike outside of the studio. He stumbled a little in his move, the sound was low enough that his peers paid no attention to it but it made Jimin’s heart do a quadruple somersault.
“I think it’s enough for today, my ribs hurt” the ballerina said. Holding both of her hands at her waist in exhaustion. “Please” she finished dropping to the floor.
“Yeah, sure” Jimin said naturally, skin still crawling a little by the sound. He walked up to his cubicle where his belonging were being held at. He grabbed his light mint colored towel and started to pat at the small drops of sweat that started to adorn his face upon halting every move, body still warm.
He took his dancing shoes out and placed them on his bag, pulled his water bottle and swallowed carefully a good amount. Breathing settling in with his very controlled, very practiced way of drinking. He lowered the bottle and placed it again in his bag, taking it altogether and raising it up to his shoulder.
His peers doing the same or simply sitting down. He strolled to were the dancers who he was previously talking to were gathered in the middle of the dance floor. Feet clad in open toes socks, softly pitter-pattering towards them.
He heard the door for the classroom open and close but paid no mind, initially. The room fell silent in a second, right when the boy arrived in front of his group, back facing whoever was the center of attention in the moment. He saw one of the dancers in front of him look sightly afraid to the door and Jimin looked at the rest, only to find the same expression. He furrowed his eyebrows when the suffocating smell of recently burnt tobacco hit him, he heard heavy boots making the wooden floor creak under body weight and he just knew. Jimin’s smile grew wide and the dancer in front of him slightly shook his head no to him. Maybe thinking about how much the blonde loved to talk and welcome strangers.
Jimin turned around, a bright smile on his face. There he was; with his blue disastrous hair swept to the side, black jeans, combat boots and leather jacket, dark green shirt underneath, tattoos crawling up in his neck, seeping down in his hands. A mean smirk plastered in his face.
The dancer ran to him, dropping his bag on the floor. He ran full force, eyes blurry with happy tears. At the point of contact, the elder held him by the waist. Jimin’s arms holding his shoulders. The sea haired male all but spun them around, soft giggles erupting from the younger’s throat. He placed him down, cupping his cheek softly to kiss him on the lips.
Everyone in the room was petrified, looking at the two. It was no other that Min Yoongi, name tag; the marked college bad boy, hell, the country’s bad boy. Low-key a delinquent at best. Maybe even a gangster. And Jimin knew that they would never understand, because they were supposed to be the opposite of each other, because Jimin was a sweetheart, kind and generous, because he helped the elderly on a daily, because he volunteered for charity events, because he was an active member of environmental organizations. But they didn’t really know him.
And Yoongi, the one who people always rumored about, about how he works with a mafia boss or about how he has made people disappear, about how he’s mean, pure evil. He spits on people’s faces and tells them to fuck off. About how he’s a heart breaker, a little devil. About how he treats people like trash and he’s so wrong because he’s covered in tattoos, how he’s going to hell for being satan’s little spawn. But they really don’t know him.
“I missed you so fucking much” the elder whispered. Foreheads against each other, breath mixing together.
“I can only imagine” was his response, the elder breathed out a laugh before he pecked him on the lips, soft and lazy yet filled with passion.
“Let’s go, yeah?” he said separating himself from the dancer, hands back in his waist. Jimin nodded. Still smiling.
Yoongi held his wrist with his hand, fingers long, grip cold with all the rings the elder was using. Every single one of them gifted by Jimin. The same rings people say he uses to break peoples faces, and okay, maybe that was one time. And maybe it was the fault of yours truly, because maybe the elder looked hot being jealous and bothered and maybe Jimin loved it.
Jimin walked behind him, only stopping at the entrance to put on his shoes. He looked backwards to wave his colleagues goodbye before he was out.
He could hear the multitude stepping close to the windows and out of the door, to see if they were not imagining it. Yoongi swung his leg over his bike, immediately pulling a cigarette and lighter while Jimin got on top as well, fixing himself a little once in place. The elder breathe out a cloud of smoke before he held the paper stick up over his shoulder, the younger took it, placing it between his plush lips.
The engine roared to life, Jimin blew some smoke before he wrapped his hands comfortably around his beloved’s waist, who took the cigarette from his fingers and place it back in his lips. He pushed the kickstand and the last thing Jimin saw was his peers jaw slacked through the crystal of the door. He smiled at them in kind. Because no one saw it coming, because they love to talk. And because in fairy tales everyone is supposed to know everything. But in his very own, no one knows anything. And maybe, it’s for the best.