seduction in literature | p.jm + m.yg

04 | storm

Today has been an eventful day for Jimin.

He had made a new friend by the name of Kim Taehyung, who had enthusiastically shared his phone number with Jimin as the pair walked towards the campus' cafeteria. The blond-haired male had kindly offered to show him around school, especially the section of buildings that holds various dance studios and practice rooms.

"Trust me, you're going to spend at least three quarters of your college life in this dingy room," Taehyung snickered the moment he'd pushed open the doors to a dimly lit practice room. Jimin was in awe at the wonderful facilities the huge room provides: two mirrors that span the whole length of the room, three comfortable couches at the side, a wide visualiser and amazing speakers at every corner of the ceiling. It was anything but dingy.

Jimin had literally begged Taehyung to demonstrate how he connected his phone to the speakers, since Jimin isn't the most tech-savvy person in the world. Taehyung had laughed at Jimin's sudden energy spike, ruffling his pink hair affectionately as he proceeded to plug the adaptor into his phone. The two then danced for the whole of break, each stopping in between to observe and compliment the other.

Jimin has also learnt that Taehyung was coincidentally Jungkook's roommate, the two having met before university started while working at the same part-time job at a vintage denim store just down the street.

With Taehyung's number now saved in his phone, Jimin feels somewhat... safe. He doesn't know why, but all he knows is that he has another friend besides Jungkook to rely on. All of a sudden, this new environment doesn't seem so frightening anymore.

And so Jimin now finds himself alone in the practice room, the clock reading five past nine as he attempts to complete his self-created contemporary piece. Jimin usually prides himself for being a fast thinker, for being someone with an extremely intense imagination, yet today doesn't seem to be a good day for him. The boy sighs for the umpteenth time as he stumbles in a mid-air jump, his two feet wobbly and unsteady as he lands.

He trips.

Falling with a loud groan, he hears the soft, distant rumble of thunder within the confines of the practice room. Wiping the sweat off of his forehead, Jimin pauses the music and decides to head home for the day. He knows that he must never rush a piece, and Jimin is too much of a perfectionist to prefer quantity over quality.

As Jimin walks down the dark corridors, he realises just how long he has locked himself up in the practice room. He hasn't had his dinner, and his stomach is now growling in protest. Wincing at the sudden flash of lightning, Jimin shudders at the gush of cold wind, instinctively shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoodie.

He now stands at the entrance of his college, and he curiously observes how eerie yet ethereal the building looks in the middle of a dark storm. He notices a few remaining students hopping into their cars, the bright headlights blinding Jimin momentarily as they pull out of the parking lots. He cringes at the sharp screeches of tires against rough pavement, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees two girls huddled together under an umbrella, frantically rushing out of the school gate. He stares and stares, until their figures disappear around the corner.

And then Jimin is alone.

He wants to cry. He wants to curl up in a ball and just cry so, so badly. Jimin is afraid of lightning, more so than thunder, and the worst thing is that he doesn't have an umbrella.

And somehow, he realises that if he had never transferred colleges, he would never have to worry about not having an umbrella in his bag. His parents would've made sure that he'd brought everything he needed out of the house, their constant nagging occasionally serving as reminders to Jimin. And even if he did forget to bring his umbrella, they'd always send the family driver to pick him up from school.