CHASING YOU || JIKOOK ✅

6

Jimin pov

When Tae walked out of his bedroom, he was wearing a pair of black silk pajama pants and a tight-fitting white t-shirt. I couldn't help but smile.

He didn't know the meaning of dressing down.

His blonde hair was damp on the ends. Taehyung was beautiful. There was no other way to describe him.

His face was angelic. His high cheek bones, sexy lips, and big, round blue eyes were the stuff cover models were made of. His build was slight.

He was several inches shorter than me, but his body was rock hard and one hundred percent muscle.

When we first met, I was taken aback by his looks. We found each other on one of those roommate finder apps.

I wanted a gay roommate I knew that.

But I also wanted a roommate that I wouldn't find attractive.

I grinned when I remembered being worried that I would have a never-ending boner.

The picture he posted on his profile looked nothing like him.

It was Taehyung, but it was Taehyung with blue hair, black lipstick, and eyeliner.

When I asked him about it, he just shrugged.

"It was taken during my emo phase."

Then he looked up at me with a raised eyebrow. "Don't fall in love with me, Maybury."

Not that I was very picky back then, but Tae wasn't my type.

But if I was going to fall for him, it would have been because of his inner beauty, which outshined his outer appearance by miles.

He was so gorgeous though, not many people noticed that part of him.

I knew when the right guy noticed, He would be a goner.

I watched him walk across the room. "What are you doing?" I asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"I'm making popcorn. I need snacks if I'm gonna watch you wallow in self-pity and self-doubt."

"I'm not wallowing," I lied.

He grinned when he sat down after he put a bowl of popcorn and a new bottle of wine on the coffee table.

"At least you changed. Much better." I rolled my eyes.

From the moment I met Tae, he' taken me on as his own little make-over project.

He taken me under his wing and became my personal stylist, a second mother, and an advisor on everything gay.

A smile played on my lips when I remembered the first time he took me to Wild Orchid, the only LGBTQ-friendly bar on campus.

I was wearing a plaid button down, which I had tucked neatly into a pressed pair of khakis.

"Oh, hell no," he said. "We're going to a gay bar, not church, Maybury. Take me to your closet."

Within weeks, I had given up my glasses for contacts and he had restyled my hair.

I pretended to hate it, but I secretly loved it. He had a gift. He didn't try to force his own style on me. He just took mine and improved upon it.

But his real gift was interior design.

I felt sure we had the most nicely decorated apartment on campus.

"Well, I didn't want to mess with the vibe of the apartment," I deadpanned.

"Thank God. Throw those pants away. Better yet, burn them. So, how do we do this wallowing thing? Should we put on some more sad music?"