BTS Stories x ARMY

~Meeting Jimin~

Just another day at the studio, or so you thought. You walk up to the dance studio, slouching with discouragement. Your mother had signed you up, unwillingly, months ago. At first it was fun, but then all your classmates moved onto the next class and the next, while you stayed in the group with the first years. Elementary students and preteens alike were constantly surrounding you, and most of the time degrading you with their decent dance moves which you just couldn't seem to get down.

You were literally willing to do anything other than dance, or at least the "genre" you were assigned, hip hop. You kept telling your mother your body was not made for that. You couldn't lock and lock. Your joints wouldn't turn at the necessary speeds and your size was not permissable of the sport.

You sigh and lean into the door, expecting it to open as it always did. But alas, it did not open. The door was locked, causing your head to bounce off the door. You rub your throbbing head and look at the door. A post it note was placed on the glass door right next to the door knob. You lean down to read it wondering how anyone was supposed to see that.

Studio is closed for (insert today's date)

All classes are canceled and are to be made up at home

Sorry for the inconvenience

Oh great, you think to yourself, no practice meant being able to go home and check the mail for your incoming merch. You turn around to notice that your bag had spilt some of its contents when you ran into the door. With a groan you lean down to retrieve the scattered contents, a lip gloss, some mascara, your earbuds, water bottle, and wallet.

As you squat next to your stuff to pick it up you hear the studio's doorbell ring, signifying that the door was opened. "Um, excuse me, did you want to... practice?" You hear a voice say with a thick korean accent. Why would a person be there if the shop was closed, you glance up to see could could be there. You see the dark eyes of the man, and with growing horror you realize it is your teen idol, Park Jimin.

Turning your face to the ground you reach to grab your wallet. "Um, well n-no... I was j-just lea-" The contents of your wallet fall out, which is not much. Ten dollars, a few quarters (you tended to give your change to your younger cousins/siblings), a library card, and of course your BTS wallet photo cards.

"Let me help," You hear him say, he squats down across from you and reaches for the cards, only the back is showing so you still have time to hide your embarrassment.

"Aniyo(no)!" you accidentally scream as you reach for the cards. Your hand lands on top of the cards and his ontop of yours. He looks at you with large eyes and a slacked jaw.

"Hangug-eoleul hal su innayo?(You speak Korean?)" He says staring at you clearly amused.

"A little" you reply in Korean.

He smirks and squeezes your hand, "Then let me see these photos" He says in his native tongue.

*From now on you two will be speaking in Korean seeing as how his English is none too well.*

You blush and look down, he rips the cards from your immobile hand and starts to laugh. "This is what you didn't want me to see?" You look up at him smiling at you and back at the cards, "I've seen far worse then this! You have nothing to worry about." He starts to laugh and you can't help but join in a little. "So you never answered me," you look up to see him handing you the cards, "did you want to come practice?"

You look up at his smiling face, you blush and think to yourself, what do I even say to him? Should I just tell him I'm going to leave? "Um, well, I think I'll just go. I don't have anything to practice really, and I'm not that good."