Fuckable Friend || Jikook & Vmin

02

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"It's not as good as a relationship, but it's still worth it."
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Jimin awoke early the following day, around 6:00, his dishevelled hair and the chaotic state of his bed testifying to his rough night's sleep. With a leisurely yet deliberate stride, he made his way to the windows, pulling back the vibrant red curtains to welcome the invigorating morning air into his bedroom.

As the sun gradually ascended, accompanied by the cheerful chorus of birds, Jimin couldn't resist another yawn as he walked towards the bathroom. In front of the mirror, wearing purple pyjamas, he stared at his reflection, then reached for a nearby cupboard.

Retrieving his toothbrush, he meticulously cleaned his teeth's and returned the brush to its designated spot. Afterwards, he applied a facial scrub, a faint smile gracing his lips as he gently tugged at his cheeks.

"Why do i have so much baby fat? I look so unattractive, but it's still fine at least i'm smart" he mused aloud, trying to muster some self-assurance, a precious commodity often in short supply except when in the company of his confidant bff, Kiko. Jimin's insecurities had their roots back in his fifth year of elementary school, where they took hold and began to flourish bullying because of his plump, cute cheeks.

Yet, what recourse did he have? He was merely an impoverished, innocent child burdened by an abusive father and a mother clinging to life's fragility, summoning strength day by day.

And so he ignored it and beared it.

he always did.

After his shower, Jimin sat on the bed, towels draped around his neck and waist.

With alot of time on his hands, he reached for his phone, embarking on a scrolling journey through TikTok and an array of other entertainment apps. As minutes flowed into half-hours, and another thirty minutes slipped by, an unrelenting blare shattered the tranquillity: his 8:00 alarm. "Shit," he grumbled, hastily collecting his attire and essential belongings.

A slice of peanut butter toast hung from his mouth while a cup of coffee, acquired the previous day, balanced in the other hand.

"Fuck."

"Fuck."

"Fuck."

He muttered under his breath, each uttered word carrying the weight of his frustration. Jimin, the school's arch of academic excellence, maintained his records, consistently securing the top position in exams and intellectual rankings.

It was this distinction that had secured his place at the institution. He understood the necessity of preserving his image and had no intention of allowing it to deteriorate.

Within the school's halls, Jimin dwelled in relative obscurity, a figure often overlooked amidst the bustling crowds. His existence was completly ignored, dismissed as just another bookworm adorned with : black glasses, mask, and an inconspicuous cap-all serving to shield him from the spotlight he so much hated.

Before getting too close to the school grounds, he wore his plain black mask, fortifying his protective façade, and passed through the institution's gates with a pronounced, breathless sigh. He arrived punctually, navigating the labyrinthine corridors to reach his designated classroom.