a touch of love ∙ bts ✓

7. A Destiny Already Determined || PJM

Genre: Romance / Valentine's Day drabbles.

Pairing: Park Jimin / Reader.

Prompt: "I can't get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you're having breakfast with me in my sweater."

Words: 957 words.

♡

She was a face that Jimin almost missed, for if his car were not due for a service that early morning, or perhaps he decided to board the train instead, he would have never discovered the iridescent star tucked within the bus stop shelter. Even more so, an opportunity that nearly slipped through his fingers like silk, almost deterred by the recreancy that ran thick within his veins and tried to convince him that such a concept of inking the back of her hand in the ten digits that consist his phone number would be a fruitless reach of hope as a means of keeping in touch.

She had been wearing a yellow wool coat, like sunshine draping her figure, pooling just above her knees in a hem that her fingertips distractedly toyed with. Jimin had arrived in a hasty flush of dewy rose biting at his cheeks and nose, honey blonde hair a dampened disarray by attempts of evading the rain that had managed to slip through the leaves of the trees lining the pathway, landing upon his skin in chilling little specks of ice cold while he jogged. Once he was underneath the shelter, he had barely registered the placid sign of life that was nestled upon the bench for he was doubled over, seeking air to draw into his ragged lungs, the profound, heavy inhalations faltering at the meek sound of a voice. A harmony of birds trapped within vocal chords.

"You're not going to die on me, are you?"

At that, Jimin had glanced up from his keeled position to be faced with, quite possibly, the most breathtaking human being he has ever had the honour of laying eyes on. A smile that had matched her attire, sunlight tucked between the fissures of her teeth, bleeding into her voice like she was the goddamn embodiment of the colossal star itself. Jimin would have believed it in a heartbeat.

And he still does, is utterly convinced that the girl who had struck a conversation with him in that cold yet cosy space, right before her bus had pulled up to the curb and Jimin had held his breath and took a leap into the oblivion, was plucked from the dark matter above, purposefully hidden away in that tiny bus stop enclosure for him to discover and adore with his whole heart. To take a chance for, having lightly pulled at her wrist just as she was about to enter the vehicle, scrawling numbers and his name in thick strokes of ink, embedded within her pores in a choice that had been left with her to enact upon, to decide.

The clock had neared ten in the evening on that same day when Jimin's phone display had lit up with the message that began a legion chain of texts, which would buzz in their pockets throughout every available minute of the days and weeks, accumulating into months ahead.

Received [9:54PM]: Jimin, I'm Y/N and I think you look unbearably adorable with your red nose after running through the rain and I'm even gladder that your car broke down so that we could meet. Coffee, sometime?

Received [9:54PM]: Or dinner, maybe?

Received [9:55PM]: Or we could go sightseeing, or just sit in a park and talk, I don't care! I would just really love to see you again. I mean, you didn't write your name and number on my hand for no reason, right?

Received [9:55PM]: ... Right??

♡

"If you keep staring like that, you're going to burn holes through my face."

Jimin grins, though refuses to glance away, gazing all the more at the entity that just voiced her thoughts. She, bundled in nothing but a pair of cotton white panties and an ocean of midnight black in the form of his very own sweater leisurely sits upon the balcony chair, toes only just making an appearance over the edge of the wooden tabletop where she has propped up her feet, a bowl of cereal protectively cradled underneath her chin by one hand while the other spoons excessively into her awaiting, parted mouth. The soft, rosy flesh that he has kissed more times deemed possible to tally, even now, wishing to add another strike to that score although the cereal milk that is gathered in the corners of her lips. Just knowing that he can kiss her without question, with no reason for an excuse has him lightheaded, heart swelling.

"I just can't get over how a few months ago, I wanted to learn your name and now you're having breakfast with me in my sweater," Jimin chuckles, nursing soggy cornflakes at the bottom of his own bowl with the edge of his spoon. "Isn't it funny how things work out like that? Imagine my car had never broken down, or if I took the train instead."

Setting her bowl down on the table, she stands, stretching her arms long above her head, reaching for the morning sun as it ascends the sky before she lets them float back down to her sides. With a graceful step, his sunshine girl saunters over and Jimin wordlessly opens his arms, eyes trained on the way she picks herself up into his lap, nestles close against his chest and gently caresses his face with both palms.

"I think," she whispers, and her lips are so close that he can feel the words skitter across his own, urging him to occlude the mere distance that separates them, "that we would've met somehow, somewhere, nonetheless. Don't you think so, too?"

When Jimin slants his mouth against her own in a kiss that tastes like golden light, syrup and honey, it is all the agreement in the world that she requires.