you're ripped at every edge (but you're a masterpiece)

i

There was nothing Jimin hated more than being awaken against his own will. Yet here he was, at fucking five thirty something in the morning, sprawling in the middle of the running track on the dirty ground after doing his 79th pushups, still in the clothes he slept on last night.

After almost four weeks being forced to enter the army training center, he was finally accustomed to being woken up at six in the morning by the loud orotund voice that belonged to Satan himself also known as Second Lieutenant slash Sergeant Jeon Jungkook. Although, on the first few days, one of his squad members was given the honor to rouse Jimin up from his slumber by pouring a bucket of cold water onto him.

His heart was hammering violently against his chest and though the sun had not completely risen yet, he could hear the smirk in Jungkook's voice when he said, "Come on, princess. One more and you're done."

"Fuck off." He almost felt the words working their way to his lips, but he was thankfully able to hold it back or else, he would only be giving Jungkook another reason to torment him more.

With an exaggerated grunt, he pushed his whole body up with his hands, arms shaking and when he managed to lift his whole body up, he yelled out, "EIGHTY!" before his wobbly arms stopped supporting his weight.

Despite his good looks and the boyish charm he radiated, Sergeant Jeon was a grade A shithead.

He heard the things his comrades whispered behind Jungkook's back. Apparently, the son of a bitch had reputation. Even that one dude from the Navy, whom Jimin had met during their physical checkups, had actually muttered something Jimin refused to care about the young sergeant when Jungkook had passed by them when they were waiting for their turns.

"Good job, princess. Now rest a bit, yeah? In—" Jungkook paused to glance at the watch on his wrist, "— twenty three minutes, it's the usual."

The usual aka running fifteen laps.

Jimin groaned out loud, bringing his arm on his face as he rested his hand on his forehead, not even bothering to wipe the trickling sweat away. He was well aware with the fact that his arms were sweaty and there were sand sticking on them but right now, that was the least of his concern. The Jimin four weeks ago would make a huge fuss about being dirty but this was better than running laps after doing pushups.

■■■

Jimin knew he would eventually be forced to enlist into the army but he never thought of being recruited at the age of twenty six.

He was at the States with no intention of returning to Korea at all. He even considered applying as an American citizen just so he would not be enlisted. Call him a traitor, but he had read a lot of articles regarding militaries sexual assault and regardless of being a proud homosexual himself, he knew he would be an easy target for those hormonal bastards.

For starters, Jimin was pretty. He claimed that it was a fact, not an opinion. And even though he had the goddamn looks, the ass that was to die for and abs that would make Adonis cry, he was lacking in the height department.

In other words, he was small.

(He would protest by saying that he was fun-sized or that every guy around him was just tall as fuck, but deep down he knew that he was short.)

If it was not for his Drunken Skype Confession, he would not have gotten himself into this mess.

(Drunken Skype Confession: That incident where Park Jimin was supposed to be organizing and managing budgets and financial plans but instead he decided to throw a last-minute party with a few of his friends and consume not one, not two, not three either but four bottles of expensive alcohol and pressed the green 'accept call' button on Skype when his father wanted to discuss about some dumb hotel-related things)