Love Affair | kth

6

The library was quiet that evening. Not bustling or rowdy like it sometimes was, after school. (The librarian had practically give up on them at this point.) You and Jimin sat at the corner table, trying to finish separate pieces of homework. Jimin was reclined back in his seat, one of his Nike-d feet propped up over the edge of the table, hanging over the side. His hand twirled a pencil around, smoothly, expertly. You sat next to him, having gotten not much done but—unsurprisingly—more than Jimin.

"If you don't stop fiddling with that pencil any time soon, I'm going to whack it out of your hand," you muttered through the side of your mouth.

Jimin released an unimpressed sigh through his nose. He set the pencil on the table. His eyes were restless and uneasy.

"I don't get why I can't listen to music," he whined, his face falling into an irritated pout. Just a small one. You looked up from your work, eyes heavy with your own annoyance. "No, really, [...]—if you want to follow your boyfriend's advice, that's fine with me, but don't drag me into it too."

Your heart leapt into your throat, choking you.

"Shut up!" You reached out and smacked his sprawled leg across the table. He flinched, glaring at you.

"Ow," he remarked.

You tried to ignore the swollen flush of your cheeks as you proclaimed indignantly, "This is for your own good, that's why you can't listen to music. This is going to help you. Don't try to lie, I know you need help in Bio."

"Shut up."

"And besides... he's not my boyfriend," you turned back to your project and started scribbling faster than you could register what you were writing. You felt weirdly warm, but you were trying hard to ignore it. You were probably messing your whole project up by this point, scrawling bullsh*t like that.

Through the corner of your eye, you felt Jimin watching you.

He scoffed faintly, "Oh, yeah?" He pulled his leg off the table, adjusting into an upright position. He shuffled forward, coming closer so that he could mutter quietly within earshot. You noticed irritably that he'd started smiling, all playful and coy again. He was such a pain in the ass. "You and Taehyung, no?"

"If you don't shut up, I'm going to throw this big-ass book at you."

His response was a surprised laugh, eyes squinting with light. He flung back his head, his naturally-black hair swinging out of sight.

"Oh, [...], [...], [...]," he exclaimed quietly. He was taunting you. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

"And you're a terrible study buddy."

"Taehyung's a lucky guy."

This was the last thing he said. He was staring at you now, his eyes slightly indifferent. The smile had started to slip off his face, slowly, dark irises growing as though he'd been suddenly struck by an epiphany. There was a beat of silence as he stared into your eyes. You looked back at him, confused and questioning. When he finally ripped his gaze away from yours, he slung himself into the back of his seat, lounging again. In a heartbeat, he'd perched his leg back in its original spot on the table top. He picked up his pencil and started twirling it, smoothly, expertly, carefully. Never letting it leave his grip. Never letting it fall.