Butterfly

2. The Uniform

"Y/n!"

I groan, rolling over, tucking my pillow over my face.

"Get the hell up!" Sandra takes my pillow, smacking me with it. "You slept through your alarm, you idiot."

Damn it. I open one eye, shaking my head, and Sandra sighs, annoyed.

"You know what? Miss the bus. Good luck, it leaves in twenty minutes." She leaves and I roll over, not wanting to get up, then see the clock.

"Fuck." I roll out of bed, stumbling over the boxes in my floor, trying to remember which one has my clothes.

"Language!" Sandra yells at me from the kitchen and I let out an annoyed breath, finally finding the box with my clothes and pulling out clothing at random.

"Sandra, where's my uniform?"

"I have no idea, didn't you wash it yesterday?"

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, grabbing my keys from on top of the box I'm using as a side table and literally running out of the apartment, because of course it's one of the stupid cheap apartments that has a laundry room in the basement.

I hurtle down the stairs, slamming through the exit door, and I race around the side of the building to the basement laundry room entrance. I fumble unlocking it, then hurry inside to find my laundry basket sitting on top of the dryer, the uniform in it, crumpled and still wet.

"What the fuck?" I hurry over to it, pulling it out of the basket, and it's literally still completely wet. Like, just-came-out-of-the-washer wet.

The laundry room door opens behind me as I press my hand to my face, letting out a sound of frustration. That's it. I'm so fucked.

"Oh, hey Y/n."

I look up to see the guy from across the hall - Jimin? - in oversized sweatpants and a white shirt. I glower at him, not in the mood to socialize, and he just stands there.

"What?" I snap finally, and he nods to the machine behind me.

"You're just in front of my laundry, I've got to get it out of the dryer."

I move, then the pieces click into place as I watch him pull a dry white button down and a pair of uniform pants out of the dryer. I step forward, and when he turns I'm right in front of him, crossing my arms, furious.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

He blinks, startled. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Is this some kind of sick joke to you? Because you just pulled a complete asshole move," I say, furious.

Jimin smirks slightly, the innocent look gone from his face. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, you don't, do you." I snatch the uniform from his hand, holding it up, and he shrugs, taking it from me again.

"I needed a dryer, and someone didn't start theirs. I just did what anyone would." He looks past me, at the laundry room door. "I should get ready for school."

I laugh sharply, sarcastic. "Wow, why don't you please go do that, after ruining my first day even more than it already was. When I show up in sweatpants I'm going to make sure that people know it's not my fault."

"Well, if you hadn't threatened at me, I might have had an extra uniform shirt you could just wear with a black skirt, but that's too bad, isn't it."

My jaw drops slightly as he shoulders past me, making his way to the laundry room door. He pauses in the doorway, turning back to me with a slight smirk.

"Oh, and I wouldn't bring that attitude to school if I was you. People here don't really appreciate any new bitchiness at school." He pauses, then looks me up and down. "I'd say if you went dressed like that, though, no one would complain too much." He winks, then turns, the door closing behind him as he heads up the steps to the ground floor.

I stare after him, dumbfounded. Did he just say that? He just said that.

I stomp up the stairs, then the flights to my floor, and I hesitate before going right up to Jimin's door, pounding on it harshly, not caring if I wake everyone.

He opens it carelessly, his hair slightly damp now, his uniform shirt over his shoulders but not buttoned, his tie slung around his neck, and I swallow at the sight of his bare chest, his muscles. I've seen plenty of male swimmers, that lean muscle, but damn. He's got to work out or something.

"Ye-es?" Jimin raises an eyebrow. "My face is up here."

My face warms and I tilt my chin up proudly, meeting his eyes.

"You're going to lend me that uniform shirt."

"And if I don't?"

I tilt my head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "I could make your life hell if I really want to, I-don't-know-your-last-name Jimin. And I'm sorry, but I think this - " I slam the wet uniform shirt into his stomach, "merits you lending me a shirt, or so help me God I will go insane."

Jimin smirks for a second, then slams the door in my face. I stand there, shell-shocked, staring at the peeling green paint. Damn.

I turn, shaking my head, wondering what the hell I should use as an excuse to not go to school, when the door opens again. I turn and am hit squarely in the face with a balled-up uniform shirt.

Jimin chuckles. "You weren't supposed to turn right then."

I glare at where he lounges in the doorway, slinging the shirt over my arm. "Yeah, right." I start to unlock the door, stopping abruptly at Jimin's voice.

"Ah-ah, what do you say?"

I don't turn, my shoulders tensing. "What did you just say?"

"I believe that my lending you a shirt - what word did you use? - oh, right, it merits a thank you."

I swallow, knowing he's right and hating it. I let out a breath, speaking stiffly. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

I unlock my apartment, stopping again at his voice.

"Oh, and for what it's worth...It was an accident, taking your stuff out. I didn't know it was yours."

I stand still, hearing his slight chuckle, then his door closes. I tilt my head, my hand on the door knob. He's such an enigma. The other day he was trying to be so nice and polite, and today he taunted me mercilessly, just bending to see if I would break, yet it turns out that what began the whole thing wasn't even intentional. I let out a breath, shaking my head as I push open the door, and Sandra appears immediately.

"What the hell took you so long? Hurry up, you're going to be late."