seduction in literature | p.jm + m.yg

07 | tissue

Jimin can't concentrate.

It's already Thursday, two days after what Taehyung had said. Now, he sits at his usual spot near the window in Mr Min's lecture hall, the teacher's voice lingering in the air. Jimin sighs, and glances absentmindedly at the clock on the wall.

10 more minutes.

His legs start to fidget, his fingers wringing themselves around one another. Eyes glossy and unfocused, Jimin barely notices a pair of eyes... resting right on him.

"Mr Park."

The boy snaps his head in shock, only to see Mr Min staring straight at him. Jimin nearly recoils in his seat, for the man's gaze was so intense... so intimidating, that Jimin can't decide if he should look away or hold the stare.

"Stay back after class."

Jimin hears a few 'oohs' and concerned muttering amongst the students, and he is fully aware that he's in deep trouble for most likely spacing out in class. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Taehyung biting on his pen as he sends a shameless wink in Jimin's direction. He then proceeds to mouth something, something that consists of two syllables, which Jimin soon realises that it's the most unintelligent, suggestive phrase ever: Have fun.

The pink-haired boy almost groans out loud.

Minutes seem to tick by slower than ever after Jimin was called out, and the student anxiously eyes the clock again, internally blaming himself for getting into his teacher's bad books in just the first few days.

His heart beats even faster in his chest when he hears the chime of a bell, the students' chatter growing as they gradually file out of the room. Jimin feels his palms turning clammy, droplets of sweat collecting on his hairline. Every step towards the teacher's desk seems like a step closer to hell.

"Mr Park, I don't have all day."

Jimin blinks in shock, and immediately rushes down the stairs to the table where Mr Min stands, who in fact, has his head down while casually organising his documents.

"Sorry Mr Min," Jimin manages to speak, a deep shade of red spreading across his cheeks. He prays that it didn't come out as a croak or a squeak, which Jimin knows he tends to sound like when he's incredibly nervous.

"Sorry for?" The black-haired teacher prompted, his head now lifted, gaze strong.

"For... for spacing out in class. It's completely my fault—"

"Why did you transfer to this university in the first place, Mr Park?" Mr Min cuts him off.

Silence ensues as Jimin stands, dumbfounded. For a new life? To chase his dreams? To dance?

"Mr Min, I—"

"How am I supposed to teach a student who doesn't want to be taught? Tell me, Jimin," Mr Min sighs, almost tiredly, and this is when Jimin starts to panic.

Panic over the fact that his teacher probably hates him. Panic over the fact that his teacher may just kick him out of his class right now. Panic over the fact that his name just sounds so pleasant rolling off from the tip of his teacher's tongue...

"Please don't k-kick me out of this class!" Jimin bursts out. "I promise, I won't do it again."

And Jimin can't help it: he starts to cry. Not the loud, obnoxious kind of crying, but the silent kind. And Jimin hates how weak he is sometimes, the rims of his eyes red as tears start falling uncontrollably down his cheeks. Get over yourself, he thinks, but the thought just makes him angrier at himself. Angry at himself for being so incredibly vulnerable.