𝐵𝑇𝑆 𝐼𝑀𝐴𝐺𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑆

𝑝.𝑗𝑚/ 𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑑𝑒/ 𝐼

꧁In which your plans to make a quick buck are tossed aside by a charming new competitor.꧂

You wiped your tacky hands on a tissue next to you, keeping your eyes ahead as you did so. You were perched on the edge of your chair, ready to whip out a plastic cup and serve a fresh, tart lemonade to whoever walked by your stall next. 

But it was likely no one would.

For years, you had been the top seller in your neighborhood's annual summertime snack-making competition. People would open stalls in a large town park and sell homemade snacks and beverages for four hours a day. There were break times during which you could go to a nearby fair, and you would take off with your sisters before returning giddily, arms filled with plastic figures and treats.

You started the stand with your older sisters. It had been your dad's idea for you to join the competition, saying you were all inactive and the week-long event could be both entertaining and educational for you. None of you argued against it, and you signed up. 

While brainstorming snack ideas, someone proposed fresh lemonade. It was refreshing, foolproof, and more importantly, easy. No one objected, and despite the derivative simplicity of it, the drink sold like hotcakes. You seemed to have the magic touch when it came to making lemonade. 

You were shocked when you and your sisters had collected the most money, as were a lot of participants.

"Plain lemonade? How on Earth did such a hackneyed concept raise so much money?" 

"Is it really even a snack?"

"I think there should be a recount."

Such comments hadn't been uncommon until people tasted it.

"Holy shit, I take it back."

Encouraged by the results, you signed up again the following summers, bringing your healing lemonade to the competition every year. It became a sort of tradition, one you found yourself looking forward to every summer.

But despite the summertime cheer being around the corner once again, you could not bring yourself to smile. Your sisters were headed off to college, and you, the youngest, would be left alone in the house with only your parents and a few neighbors to speak to.

The youth of the neighborhood were slowly aging, and you were soon to be left only with adults and preschool children. Your lively soul was to be utterly bored all summer. 

Having nothing to do, you stepped outside to get some sun. You noticed there was a mover's truck parked by the house opposite yours. Curious, you walked up to the street and spotted a boy who looked to be around your age talking to an older woman. You recognized her as Mrs. Williams, one of your mom's friends. Her husband was the neighborhood's event organizer. You didn't recognize the boy though.

You hadn't realized you were stepping closer to them until the boy turned and waved his arms at you. You nearly waved back, but then realized you were standing in the middle of the street. Just as you'd moved backward, a car whizzed over the spot you'd been standing on. You blinked, feeling a little dumb. The boy jogged across the street and stopped in front of you. 

"Are you alright?" He asked. The close proximity allowed you to get a better look at his features.  He had buttery, peach blond hair and was wearing a plaid cobalt and white shirt with a white undershirt and light denim shorts. His skin was like rosy cream, and his eyes were mellow and kind.

"Yeah, I'm good," you responded. "Thanks for giving me a heads up"

"No problem. Uh-," he scratched the back of his head. "Why were you standing in the middle of the street?" 

"I was intrigued by the truck, and I guess I moved forward without realizing," you answered. "So, are you moving in?" 

"Yeah. My parents are unpacking stuff right now. I came out for a walk, and a woman came up to me and asked me if I was new to the neighborhood. We were chatting about some community events, and then I saw you."

"I see. Do you know anyone here?" 

"I do, actually. One of my cousins lives here. His name is Yoongi, and he likes to write music. He's a sweet guy, but not very social."

"Oh." 

Neither of you seemed to know what to say, until you looked up at him hopefully. Granted, you didn't have to look very far up. He wasn't very tall. His face had fallen slightly after talking about his cousin. He seemed... lonely.

"Do you... want to be friends?"

He blinked. "Okay."

You pulled out your phone, and he put his number in your contacts. You then did the same to his.

"I'll text you later?" You asked him, shoving your phone in your pocket.

"Sounds good. Bye- oh, wait!"

You stopped walking.

"What's your name?"

You smiled. "Y/n."

He smiled back, his eyes turning into sweet crescents as he did. "That's really pretty. I'm Jimin."

You're really pretty, you thought to yourself. "Bye, Jimin!"

"Bye!"

You walked back to your house and into your room, your steps a little bouncier than they had been leaving. You had found someone to talk to! You knew he had likely only spoken to you out of politeness, but you allowed yourself to relish the victory. 

You hadn't been expecting him to text you, but around eight p.m. you received a notification.

Jimin

Hello

Your thumb hovered over your phone's keypad for a few seconds before you decided on a simple response.

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

Hi

Jimin

Do you want to meet at the fair tomorrow?

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

☀︎︎I wanted to give this one a purer vibe. I was sort of inspired by the picture of Jimin at the top. Well, I came up with the first paragraph, googled "bts jimin summer photos," and ran with the concept. Let me know what you thought of my first imagine attempt, or if you want a part two シ.☀︎︎

☀︎︎How are you guys doing?☀︎︎