orange creamsicle || bts || jinkook

1. orange

jungkook glances up from his manga when the door to his dorm room opens. jimin, the bastard, practically sashays into his room and gracefully falls on to his bed, as if this was //his// room. he blinks, trying to figure out if this is a weird fucking hallucination or if jimin literally just did that.

he's not high. he's not drunk. there's no real reason why he would be imagining this but he /has/ been staring at the pages of this manga for a few hours now and maybe, just maybe he needs some friends. so he could've just made up jimin coming into his room. who knows.

alright, he decides, he's gonna think this out logically.

hypothesis: if he throws his manga, then he'll figure out if jimin is real.

procedure
1. throw manga
2. record data

jungkook looks down at the book, then back at 'jimin' and chucks it. right at his butt.

data: jimin remains on his bed and does not disappear into an eerie mist or some shit.

jimin, as if he had eyes on the back of his head, quickly flips over, grabs the book, and chucks it right back at jungkook before stuffing his face back into his pillow.

conclusion: park jimin is not to be messed with.

luckily, he misses. surprisingly the dancers aim is not up to par at all. the manga hits the wall next to his head.

"is there a reason you're in my room?"

he watches as jimin's back rises, and rises, as he breathes in deeply. there's a moment where jungkook thinks he might just explode or maybe keep blowing up and fly away. but he doesn't. sadly. he just holds his breath for a few seconds then screams into his pillow.

"okay." jungkook nods, "that was cool."

jimin breathes in and out for a while before sitting up. he runs his hand through his hair, fixes his shirt a little, then takes a breathe again.

"taehyung's wearing shorts."

jungkook blinks, "okay."

"shorts. like actual shorts. not like—like fuckin' basketball shorts, jungkook. he's wearing //shorts//."

he still doesn't really get it but nods anyways, hoping to get him out of his room faster. yes, he needs friends to take him away from this manga. but, at the moment, he's on a ///really/// good part and wants to finish it.

"jungkook. jeon jungkook. kim taehyung is wearing shorts."

"yes, i think i got that?"

jimin glares at him before reaching out and wrapping his chubby, little fingers around his wrist. he can feel his cold rings against his skin. it's not the best feeling.

"you don't seem to understand." he speaks, pulling jungkook up from his seated position way too easily for someone who's half his height, "we're going to see. together."

jungkook knows better than to go against park jimin, as seen by his very informational scientific experiment earlier. he also knows just from prior experience in telling him no and being subjected to his hypnotizing puppy dog eyes.

something tells him that if he said no this time, he wouldn't be so lucky to get the eyes. he'd probably get a black eye instead.

so, he lets himself be dragged down the hall. jimin has tiny legs, so their aggressive journey to his room is not as agressive as it seems. they're actually going...pretty slowly.

jungkook glances at the few rooms they pass before they get to the student lounge on this floor. unsurprisingly, namjoon and hoseok are smoking and yoongi's going around and watering all of his plants, probably talking to them too.