VMIN / INDULGE

07 .

POINTED TOES .

JIMIN .

"Ho-ly shit."

"Park Jimin, your hair is pink."

A sheepish smile tugs at my lips, scanning the room as the inquisitive eyes of my peers latch onto my body. Dark orbs with contents of discomfort cling to my skin, softly simmering away my prior confidence and prompting agonies of fear to contaminate my body.

"It looks sick." An unfamiliar voice states as I patter toward where Jungkook and Hoseok are staring at me, looks of awe etched across their features.

"Hey, Jimin." Jungkook waves, placing on his usual demeanour.

Hoseok, however, isn't quite so casual, "uh, what's up with this new look?"

"Hm? Oh, this? You like?"

Before he can respond, Jungkook cuts in, "you look badass with pink hair."

"Yeah, it looks awesome, but isn't it a little daring? I mean, what brought this on all of a sudden?"

I smile despondently, slightly more at ease as the eyes of the class tear away from me and melt into their own business.

For one thing, Taehyung was right: this glorious pink has uplifted my mood somewhat. Despite Yoongi's feigned enthusiasm, when I awoke in the morning and my reflection was an extortion of pink, it somehow made me happy. Or perhaps the happiness may stem from the fact it reminds me of him? The pink hair reminds me of Taehyung; it evokes a flash of joy, a slither of confidence at the recollection of his passion when he professed something true.

Why do mere words cause such jubilance?

"His smile says it all." Jungkook says, his face adorably lit up with empathetic joy.

The eldest of our trio clearly hasn't clocked onto Jungkook's 'revelation', expressing his confusion in the awkward sideways glance he shares between us.

"The pizza boy." Jungkook explains with a playful roll of his eyes.

"Huh." His mouth falls open, his brown hues trailing across my face, a sudden smile overtaking his own.

"How'd you guess?" I inquire, unable to stifle a small grin.

"The way you're smiling now." Jungkook lazily ponders, "it's a weird kind of smile you only have when you talk about him."

"Wait, really?"

"Kind of." Hoseok inputs.

"But I've only spoken about him once?"

"So? You smiled with your eyes, you haven't done that in a long time." The brown-haired male, that goes by Jungkook, states.

"I barely know him, why would I smile like that?"

"Maybe it's just 'cause you get attached to people pretty quickly?" Jungkook, the oracle of all knowledge, suggests.

"I s'pose.."

"So, what, he said he liked dudes with pink hair?" Hoseok quizzes mockingly.

"No.. it's more.. personal, he told me-"

"Shouldn't you be warming up?" A throaty voice hisses against my neck, hot breath tingling against my skin.

I freeze instinctively, slowly craning my neck to glance at our dance instructor. He's a surprisingly gruff male - not the kind you'd expect to adjudicate a college class majoring in dance. He's more the sergeant major type. Thin tufts of grey reside in a gel-drenched buzzcut, his face a sculptured work of muscle: the epitome of an ex-army man.

His assistant, Miss Honeywell, is an English ballerina who looks as though she's not long from university herself. She's more the stereotypical mould of a dance teacher.

Aside from their desperately clashing personalities, one major similarity is neither are very fond of me. Jungkook claims it's because I refuse to ever take on the bigger challenges they think I'm capable of. That may be true, but that doesn't mean anything to a ballerina who's afraid of their own shadow. Despite their hatred toward me, I comply with their requests and begin to warm up my body.

I watch my classmates through the mirror, observing as each of them stretch out their limbs, each spreading their muscles into elegant warmth. Daintily, I grip the railing, just as every other occupant of the class is doing. My other arm triumphantly flicks up, stretching out above my head, my right leg stretching out to the side, tremulously stimulating an air of grace.

Miss Honeywell smiles, addressing the class, "technical accuracy will be submitted as a large part of your physical examination, so... Park Jimin, don't allow your mind to wonder far enough to forget such beginner steps as pointing your toes." My face falls, gushes of embarrassment simmering through me, "and are we forgetting bright hair dye isn't permitted?"

I stop again, my heart recoiling within my stomach, sinking toward the lower pits, whilst a knot forms in my throat, my face coated with red.

The class all skim their eyes across me, the same look of pity dripping from their well-groomed faces.

I'm so sick of pity.

//

lol this is so shit, i wrote this ages ago but i forgot to upload oops ,,

also working on a shit tonne of stories because my mind, after almost a year of blankness, has finally begun to give me inspiration lmao .