to him ••• yoonmin

Please, Mr. Postman

Jimin-
Hearing a teacher call my name is no surprise. I get called on for multiple things during class, either to slice a problem or answer a question. But when I hear 'Park Jimin, can you stay after class. Min Yoongi, you too.' I was confused. Why would the teacher want me to stay after class? Especially with that... hoodlum.
But nod and stay after. i stand in front of the teachers desk. Min Yoongi stands a few feet away. I almost choke on the smell of smoke. I can't believe I've been sitting near him while he smokes. Why would Taehyung force me to hang out with someone like him? He's going to give me lung cancer. Then I won't have the stamina to dance.
"I understand you are having some problems in class," the teacher speaks to Min. The older boy looks at his fingers. "I can't fail you again Yoongi, you have a future. That's why I would like Jimin to tutor you."
I roll my eyes. How predictable. The smart kid helps the failing bad boy with school. "And why would I do that?" I ask.
Min scoffs. "Yeah, I don't want his help. He's a brat."
"Jimin, I'll give you extra credit."
"What about me?"
"You get to pass," I say. "You don't get a special prize since it's your fault anyways."
"That's not true. Yoongi, if you do this, I will give you no less than a 85%," the teacher says. "What do you say?"
Min shrugs. "It couldn't hurt anything." He looks at me.
"That's not fair for me. I have to help him? Why can't you do it? You are the teacher," I say.
"Frankly, I don't have time to catch him up. But I trust you'll be able to," the teacher says. "Now, I have to go. Please leave so I can."
I whine quietly. I walk out the door, Min is behind me. "So, when are you going to tutor me, tutor," I hear his annoying voice say. I can tell without looking at him that he has a stupid smirk on his face.
"No time soon," I say, still walking. " probably not until the end of October. I have things to do."
"Fine. Just tell me when you can. But you'll have to work around my schedule too," Min says.
"Your schedule of what? Smoking and being a nonproductive citizen of society?"
He scoffs. "And What would you know about me?"
"I know you smoke. And you aren't a productive citizen of society."
A rough hand grabs my shoulder and forces me against the wall. "You don't know anything about me," he growls.
"I know that you aren't going to hit me. You wouldn't want to get in trouble, would you?" I tease.
He scowls. "Fuck off, man. Why are you such a brat?" He lets me go.
I grab my earbuds. "I don't know. Why are you such a lowlife?" I plug them in and walk away.