Wrong number? || BTS

45. Jimin side

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The others slowly drifted away after the game—some heading to the green room, others dragging their feet toward rehearsals. I stayed behind for a moment, needing a second to breathe. My cheeks were sore from laughing, my heart still fluttering from all the chaos.

“You okay?”

I turned to see Jimin leaning casually against the doorway, his hair slightly tousled, a familiar softness in his eyes. His usual playful smirk was gone, replaced with something gentler.

“Yeah,” I said, blinking. “Just… thinking.”

He strolled over and plopped down next to me with a dramatic sigh, sitting cross-legged like a kid. “What’s the thinking about? The fact that Jungkook serenaded you like you’re in a K-drama?”

I let out a laugh. “Don’t remind me.”

“I’m still recovering from secondhand embarrassment,” he teased, then nudged my knee lightly. “But seriously… you were brave, you know. Saying all that during the game.”

I shrugged. “Didn’t feel brave. Just felt… necessary.”

Jimin tilted his head, watching me with that thoughtful look of his. “Sometimes the necessary stuff is the bravest to say.”

I glanced sideways at him. “Do you always talk like a therapist when the room’s empty?”

He grinned. “Only when I’m trying to impress someone.”

I snorted. “Is it working?”

“Eh, 6.5 out of 10,” he teased, holding up his fingers.

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling.

Then he leaned back a little, resting his hands behind him. “You know… I don’t always get moments like this.”

“Like what?”

“Just… alone time. With you.” His voice dropped just a little—not heavy, but sincere. “Every time I try, Jungkook somehow appears out of thin air like some puppy with separation anxiety.”

I laughed. “He does have a talent for crashing moments.”

“Right?” Jimin chuckled. “I was starting to think he planted a tracker on you.”

“That would explain a lot,” I grinned.

He smiled too, but then his tone softened again. “But I’m really glad we got this moment. I’ve been wanting to say… I see you, Y/N. I see how you’ve been trying—even when you pretend you’re not. I notice. We all do.”

My chest tightened a little, his words sinking in unexpectedly warm. Like sunlight through a window I didn’t know was open.

“I thought you didn’t like me at first,” I said quietly.

He blinked, then let out a small laugh. “Honestly? I didn’t know how to like you.”

I raised an eyebrow, and he grinned sheepishly. “I mean—at first I thought you were gonna be one of those haters, you know? The keyboard warrior types. Ready to burn our posters and curse us out on live TV or something.”

I laughed despite myself. “Wow. So much faith.”

“Hey, I’m just being honest!” He nudged my knee gently with his. “But then… I started watching you. You were loud, blunt, brutally honest—”

“Gee, thanks.”

“—but also weirdly soft,” he finished, smirking. “Like, I saw how you treated Jungkook. You scold him like an older sister one second, then share your snack with him five minutes later.”

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips anyway.

“And that’s when I got confused,” Jimin continued, a little quieter now. “You weren’t the kind of hater I was expecting. You were… human. Complex. Real. And honestly, somewhere along the way, it stopped being about whether you liked us or not.”

He looked at me with something earnest in his eyes.

“I just wanted this whole crazy ‘lucky fan’ thing to turn into a memory that meant something. Not just to ARMY. To us. To me.”

There was a small silence, soft and thick in the air between us.

I swallowed. “That’s… actually really sweet.”

“I know,” he grinned. “I’m amazing.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You really ruined the moment.”

“But you’re smiling,” he said, eyes twinkling.

“And you’re a pain.”

He shrugged, nudging me again. “Still your favorite, though.”

I rolled my eyes, but didn’t deny it.

Because in that moment, sitting beside him, hearing his words—gentle and goofy all at once—I realized something:

Jimin didn’t just make people feel seen. He made them feel safe being seen.

Then he stood, dusting off his pants. “Alright, let’s go. Before Jungkook smells that we’re alone and teleports in.”

I shook my head, getting up beside him. “Honestly, that wouldn’t even surprise me.”

“Exactly,” he grinned. “Come on, before he starts singing part two of his tragic ballad.”

As we walked side by side back to the green room, something settled in me—lighter than before.

Jimin didn’t need to say a lot to be impactful.
He just knew exactly when to show up.
And somehow, he always knew the right thing to say.