"Let's talk sex."
He was a spark, a wildfire of flames that intended to set her heart ablaze, and she was merely another doll-faced student who was too easy to mess with.
EXAGUSTD, 2021
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It is already twenty minutes into the class when I crawl out of my trance, the air I'm breathing is suddenly vile and it scathes down my lungs as Taehyung turns to see if I'm following them. He is about two metres away, and still, the blue of his eyes promises to render me incoherent in my thinking and my feet shuffle to move along. I'm impressed by how I haven't dropped the vase in my hand and made mayhem out of the fuss that is unfolding in front of me.
I follow Jimin's footsteps, my eyes lowered to my feet as I start to fixate my thoughts around the shoelace again. It doesn't come by so easily and a wave of jittery panic whelms me as I hug the amphora for comfort. My ears engulf the sounds of lens shuttering from every direction, but they are distant and I dare to breathe through my withdrawn mouth when I reach our desk.
Jimin knows what I'm going through. His glance is suggestive when he moves over the desk to grab the tripod stand and hands it to me, a smirk dancing on his full lips. I stare at him as he slides the pottery from my hand and places it over the desk. Unzipping my bag, I retrieve my camera and hand it to Jimin before stepping aside again.
I bring my hands to my sides, allowing them to clench and unclench around the rough fabric of my jeans and my bottom lip is wetted by one nervous stretch of my tongue.
None of us speaks and the dense air of awkwardness only thickens with fervour when Jimin offers to get a bottle of lens cleaners. A necessity we don't need.
"I-I'll get it!" I say, quickly excusing myself. Anything to escape this tactless scenario before it explodes right on my face. I train my eyes on Jimin, not even going anywhere near looking at the silver-haired guy and I know he is studying the nervous quirks I don't normally show when I'm only around the former.
My friend stares at me with amusement as I continue, a little hindered, "Y-You guys can get started ... I-I won't take long."
This is all because of Jimin.
I practically run out of the place, my breath insensibly lacking as I bolt for the shelves. This is the epitome of embarrassing - I could write a whole book on ways I want to die. My fingers clutch my camera in an unfriendly way, and part of me is afraid that I might snap the buttons off for squeezing on the case so hard. Everyone else is focused on their work, chasing to get the best grade inked on their records and I'm still at a loss for inspiration - I don't know what I am doing. My feet wander around the area, tapping against the floor impatiently when I take note of another guy. He is taking his own leisurely time at cleaning his lens, pouty lips blowing out a few whistles and I stand aside.
I don't know why I am struggling to cope with the time he's taking to get done with his things, seeing that this is where I want to spend the rest of my class - regardless of how all my stalling is going to reflect colourfully on my grades. The boy turns to face me when he is almost done, caramel brown hair dripping onto his eyebrows and his butterfly eyelids in crescents with a tissue pinched in one hand and his DSLR cradled in the other.
