Here's My Number

13

You walk into the cafeteria the next morning with a coffee in hand and circles under your eyes. You did not sleep well with thoughts of Jimin conquering your mind all night. You maybe got about a good three hours in before your alarm went off.

Hey, at least you're allowed coffee at school. You'd be completely lost without it.

You scan the cafeteria for the usual table Jimin is at and spot him immediately.

And then the butterflies suddenly appear in your stomach. And now you don't want to face him. You want to turn around, walk away, and hide somewhere else before school starts. Whatever confidence you had last night is gone now and you're afraid you'll blush too hard or say something stupid to Jimin.

But it's too late. Before you make your decision to run for it, Jimin spots you from across the large room and you can see it in slow motion as the recognition enters his face and his eyes sparkle with a new smile and he raises his arm to beckon you over.

You're done for. He's only smiled at you and you can feel your face heat up. God, why am I like this? You think. I can't control my friggin blush.

You smile back at Jimin, then walk over to his table and sit down next to him. Your backpack slumps lazily on the ground next to your feet.

"Good morning," you yawn, taking a sip of your coffee and setting the cup down on the table.

Jimin pulls his headphones off and hands them to you. "Listen," he says. You take the headphones and put them on. The music playing is soft guitar and it calms you. You feel sleep try to come in from the edges of your mind but will it away with another sip of your coffee.

You like the music. The beat and the use of the instruments is unique and makes your heart sway in your chest as if it's trying to hold still but can't.

Or maybe that's just Jimin. His arm is touching yours and it's hard not to notice the closeness.

"I like this tune," you hum absentmindedly. Jimin shoots you a small smile before pausing it on his computer and shutting the device protectively. You think it's cute how he let you listen to something on it. He's possessive of it and doesn't let anyone else look at it.

Sometimes you really wonder what he's doing on it.

"What is it?" You ask Jimin as you take the headphones off and hand them to him. He wraps the cord around his fingers neatly, takes the headphones, and places them in his backpack, which is resting in the chair next to him on his other side.

"It's a tune my friend in Daegu produced. He sent it to me so I can use it for my-" Jimin covers his mouth before he finishes his sentence, but you get the idea.

You gasp. "Wait, do you write songs?" You ask. Jimin turns a bright shade of red. "I-you didn't hear that," he stutters. You shake your head, grinning.

"Is that what the paper was that you had the other day?" You ask. "Lyrics?"

Jimin looks at the floor. "Al-alright, fine. Yeah, I write songs. But you have to keep it a secret," he says. "Please."

The look in his eyes is begging you to keep your mouth shut about it. But why? If anything, it's impressive. You nod. "I promise," you say. "But why?"

Jimin looks at the table nervously. "It's-it's kind of embarrassing," he mumbles. You raise an eyebrow at him. "Embarrassing? No way. That's really cool."

Jimin looks at you. "It's embarrassing because there are lots of people here who also make songs and stuff and they sound good. Catchy. Mine are a different style and language than what you Americans usually listen to."