SCHOOL 2020 ▷ bts

1.8

It was Tuesday, and I finally knew why the profile had written Jimin off as reserved.

It had been ironic in itself. A dancer being reserved? The whole point of dancing was to be expressive in your movements, to be near-aggressive and emotional. But then again not all clowns are funny in real life. Perhaps it was the same with Park Jimin, though he had certainly seemed to be anything but reserved.

Today my class was tasked with observing the dance class. It was apparently the norm in the Investigation course - once a week we would leave the classroom and observe other courses during their lessons. Each of us were given a sheet of about 30 questions, fixed to a clipboard - Who's right-handed? Who had orange juice for lunch? Who has a slight limp? - and through power of observation alone, we were supposed to answer those questions. 24 of us sat huddled in one corner, biting our pencils and watching.

Jimin came in just as the class was about to start. His eyes swept carelessly around the room, and I watched how they freeze on a nearby mirror before sweeping back to lock onto mine. I met his gaze steadily. For the briefest of seconds his eyes gleamed, a dark smokey look, and it seemed as if he might grin. And then the moment was over and he turned away.

15 seconds into the lesson, it became apparent that he was the teacher's favourite.

He was always the one called upon to demonstrate a new form of dance. A comment on a dancer's must-have trait always ended with "just like Jimin's", and any form of encouragement ultimately lead to the phrase "you should all learn from Jimin." 

I eyed the boy in question, my homework lying forgotten in my lap. He didn't look the slightest bit bothered by the teacher's high praise. It wasn't an air of casual arrogance that he wore, or sheepish embarrassment - rather it was if the praise flowed over him like water over duck feathers. He simply didn't cared.

But I could see others did. The side glances from his classmates ranged from both open admiration to outright jealousy.

Throughout the whole lesson, Jimin spoke little. He answered only when directly asked, and his voice was soft. His replies too were short, but it was not shortness that came with being curt - rather it was shortness as if he was shy. Park Jimin being shy? The same Park Jimin that had leapt onto Min Yoongi's back? These two terms did not equate.

It was as if with the world he showed one side of him, and with his true friends he showed another. But which one was real?

When the class was over and the students began to file out of the classroom, two boys knocked into Jimin's shoulder as they went. They were the more boisterous ones, with frames bigger than Jimin's slight size, and they definitely belonged in the "dagger looks of envy" category.

"Sorry," one of them drawled. "You were so short, didn't see ya."

I winced. Jimin's jaw clenched and unclenched.

"That's alright." His voice was small, almost timid.

One of the boys snorted, a sound of pure scorn before walking away. Jimin watched their retreating backs, and his eyes hardened. Under his breath, his mouth parted imperceptibly to whisper -  

One. And something ugly tugged at his lips. 

I blinked. What was that?

I didn't get the chance to pursue the matter further before I was herded back to the Investigation classroom, where I was promptly treated to a two-hour history lesson on all the great detectives and policemen that had lived and conquered in the past. I would have fallen willingly into deep slumber, if Song Rae hadn't taken it upon herself to poke me in the ribs every other minute in an effort to ensure that I "maximize and broaden my learning".