"Trust me, babygirl. You don't want to start a war with me."
___________
Park Jimin = biggest fuckboy on the planet.
You're a new student in his class. You don't how to play his games, you don't know the rules.
He drives you mad and you drive him ma...
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The sun dips low, entombing itself too soon to secrete from the world, selfishly taking back it's light to set the dim evening. The temperature is a lot calmer than the previous incident, a cool breeze whipping past Jimin's thin shirt, sending goose bumps across his exposed arms.
He slips his hands into his loose pockets, grabbing the handful of cloth inside. His footsteps keep up with yours, matching the slow pace while you stride down the street as if there's nothing weighing on your shoulders. Now that you're both fully clothed again, your sweat has dried, and the lust has finally been quenched of thirst.
The clouds hang lower than usual, casting more of a serene than gloomy atmosphere onto the neighborhood, stealing the lined-up houses of their bright colors. The streets lie empty, towering lamps starting to light up as they shine down on bikes strewn across lawns by unbothered students and cars sleeping in the driveways.
You expect a cloud of guilt to be hanging above your head but when you look up there's nothing to be seen, only drops of relieved satisfaction dampening your scalp.
Jimin glances your way, finding your eyebrows knotted, your face utterly focused as you watch your feet carry you. The corner of his mouth twitches, adoring your cute face. He's grown immune to your cold personality; all the details people would usually find unattractive now appeal dearly to him.
He can't help it. He's going through a deeper phase now: falling in love with your flaws.
His mind can't find the right words to explain how he feels, it's something he's never felt before. He used to think sex is overrated but it had never felt so amazing when he did it with you.
I guess it's different when you actually like the girl.
Your backpack once again falls off your shoulder, the heavy weight landing on the inside of your elbow as you try to stop it from hitting the ground. Jimin's fingers grasp the strap gently, giving it a silent tug and you look at him.
"Let me carry it." he states simply, unreadable expression drifting onto his face.
"It's fine. I can-"
He doesn't take no for an answer, easily taking the hefty bag off you and swinging it onto his own shoulder. He looks forward again, pleased with himself.
Your mouth opens and closes like a goldfish, feeling like you should protest but figuring out there's no point. The silence reigns over both heads again and this time a certain uncomfortable mood seeps along with it.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks, curious thoughts growing louder than the quiet.
"Us." you answer, honestly while you refocus on your feet.
He sighs at the way you say it, noticing the inadequate tone as you said the word. "It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to, Y/N."
