SUNSHINE, jihope. [fin.]

7; happy

Jimin meets Sejun four months after first hearing about him.

It starts out as a rough day. He gets an email from his Japanese language professor about an assignment where they video chat with university students in Japan to practice the language. Jimin’s terrible at Japanese. Granted, judging by his test scores he’s actually quite good, but he can’t speak it to save his life. When he reads the email he starts practicing phrases in his head, imagining how the conversation will go, and he forgets how to say ‘hello.’ Taehyung tells him it isn’t bad, that he’s done it before and the students don’t expect them to have much of a grasp on the language. It’s more for fun, really. Jimin may be able to dance in front of three hundred people but for some reason this assignment makes him so nervous he spends an hour in the bathroom with an upset stomach before he decides he can’t do it. It’s graded but he doesn’t care. So he skips class.

But he feels pretty down, and Hoseok notices. They don’t talk about it, but Hoseok signs them up for a practice room and drags him along to dance, and he makes so many jokes that Jimin feels better by the end of it. They stop by the café on the first floor of the campus dining hall afterward. Jimin orders coffee and a light sandwich, moving to stand by the pick-up counter. Hoseok slides up next to him after he’s done.

“I’ve always wondered,” he says conversationally. “If there’s a suite room in hotels, is there a salty room, too?”

“Hey!” Jimin yells so loud the girl working behind the counter glances at him. He smacks Hoseok’s arm. “I swear if you say one more pun today I’m going to shove your head in the toilet.”

“Aw, come on. You love my puns.”

“My ass.”

Hoseok grabs him in a headlock, pulling off his snapback to dig his knuckles into his head. “Admit it. You love them.”

Jimin flails, but he’s laughing too hard to pull away.

“See. You do.” Hoseok lets him go, and Jimin snatches his hat back.

“I hate you.”

Hoseok doesn’t answer. He’s looking behind Jimin at the boy who has just walked into the dining hall. Jimin follows his gaze to the tall, handsome guy wearing a long coat and a pair of sunglasses, then glances back at Hoseok. The latter has tensed, fingers white from how tightly he clutches his phone.

Jimin shifts imperceptibly closer so he can whisper, “Is that Sejun?”

Hoseok nods, barely.

“Do you want to look like you don’t care?”

This time Hoseok looks at him. His voice is almost desperate when he says, “Yes.”

Jimin slips his arm around Hoseok’s waist just as Sejun sees them and waves, changing direction from heading for the staircase to heading for them. Hoseok waves back, but it’s stiff. Jimin tightens his hold, murmuring, “It’s all right.”

Jimin pretends to glance between them curiously as Sejun approaches. He stops before them, pushing his sunglasses onto his head, and looks at Jimin just as curiously as Jimin looks at him.

“Hey, Hoseokie. It’s been a while.”

“Sejun hyung.” Hoseok answers. On the surface he looks casual but Jimin knows him well enough to sense the tightness in his voice. Jimin rests his free hand on Hoseok’s stomach, rubbing gently. This time, when Sejun looks at Jimin, his brows furrow the slightest bit. Jimin smirks. “How have you been?”

“Alright. You look good. Is this—” He glances at them both, waiting for someone to explain.

“I’m Jimin.” He bows slightly, and Sejun bows back.

“Sejun. Hoseok probably mentioned me. We used to live together.”

Jimin doesn’t like him. Something about the cocky way he says it—Hoseok probably mentioned me. Something about the way he looks at Hoseok, like he knows exactly how important he is to him. Revels in it, even. So Jimin smiles serenely and says, “He didn’t, actually.”

Sejun looks rather thrown off guard, perhaps not expecting Jimin to respond with such bite. “Oh.”

“How’s everyone else?” Hoseok asks. He leans into Jimin in an obvious way, and Sejun’s brows furrow the slightest bit more.

“Everyone misses you.”

If Jimin weren’t afraid of Hoseok’s reaction, he would clock Sejun right in the face for that one. Because he constructs his tone to imply that he’s the one missing Hoseok but his eyes don’t look like they care at all. He’s selfish. He likes the attention. Jimin knows a lot of people like him. But the worst part is he knows that Hoseok won’t understand.

The girl behind the counter calls for Jimin. “That’s us,” he says to Hoseok, even though it’s only his order.

“Well, it was good seeing you,” Sejun says. “Come by some time, yeah?”

“Sure.”

Sejun heads toward the stairs as Jimin pulls Hoseok to the counter. Hoseok’s not looking when Sejun glances back, but Jimin is. He tugs Hoseok down by his neck and drops a gentle kiss to his cheek. Hoseok’s breath catches, and Sejun spins away.

“He was looking,” Jimin explains. He grabs his food and makes for a table by the window, leaving a speechless Hoseok behind him.

Hoseok joins him with his own order a few minutes later. He looks fucked up. His mouth sags and his eyes are lost and his hands look weak when he picks up his sandwich.

“He doesn’t miss you.”

“What?”

“I know it sounds like it but he doesn’t miss you, hyung.” Jimin wonders briefly if he’s being too harsh, but Hoseok needs to hear it.

“How do you know that?”

“I know people like him. He likes being liked. He doesn’t really care.”

“You didn’t even talk to him for a minute. What do you know?” Hoseok rarely gets angry, but there’s a touch of it in his voice.

“I didn’t need a minute.” Jimin remembers the time Hoseok said it wasn’t really his fault, he didn’t even know and thinks Hoseok is an idiot. A kind, hopeful idiot who gives too much love to people who don’t deserve it.