Chapter Text
“it’s always around me, all this noise,
but not really as loud as the voice saying,
let it happen.”
-- Tame Impala, Let It Happen
[ NAME OMITTED -- SESSION 9]
“Sometimes,” he starts, his voice cracking and his lifeless eyes staring somewhere beyond his therapist, “When it’s late. . . and I’m tired. . .” he smiles painfully, gripping the armrest of the chair until his knuckles turn white. “I can still see him.” A lump forms in his throat while his vision blurs. “ Burning. ”
[i]
“Jimin-ah!” Seulgi calls, waving her hand impatiently to attract the younger’s attention -- although, she isn’t quite sure if it’s a good idea after she sees Jimin dancing with Nayeon, his hands resting dangerously low on her waist.
Her friends giggle, starting to whisper obscenities behind her. Instantly irritated, but failing to prevent her cheeks from burning, she slaps Irene’s shoulder to quiet them. She opens her mouth to yell out Jimin’s name again, but falters in second-hand embarrassment for Nayeon when Jimin performs some sort of spin, grabs Tzuyu by the hand and -- without a second of hesitation -- begins dancing with her.
But Nayeon isn’t offended; hell, she looks like the happiest girl in the world with her doe eyes wide and her mouth chattering excitedly to people too drunk to care. Beside her, a crowd of buzzed college girls has begun to close in on Jimin and Tzuyu, hungry for the ratings and a chance to dance with -- to breathe the same air as -- the Park Jimin.
Even Seulgi has to admit Jimin is hot -- sexy, even. What with his perfectly tousled, lightly curled blonde hair and those happy, cloudy-day-over-the-ocean eyes that seemed to get him anything he wanted; who can resist someone that good looking with a rating of 4.9?
Besides, the boy is practically drowning in wealth -- expensive, shiny, exclusive jewelry drip from his wrists and fingers like sickly sweet medicine. Freshly pressed, silk, Chanel dress shirts lightly spritzed with Neiman Marcus cologne, velvet chokers, and Gucci shoes; trips to Paris, London, Hawaii, Tokyo; coupled with a genius intellect, the voice of an angel, and an impossible rating -- it’s the recipe for a god: the recipe for Park Jimin.
She watches unimpressed as the song ends, prompting Jimin to smile apologetically to the crowd and send them all five-star ratings; she shakes her head when the gaggle of ratings-obsessed students scream and whistle in delight. He then winks and blows a kiss at Tzuyu, and for a minute, Seulgi is concerned that Tzuyu might faint.
Once he’s done with the crowd, he adjusts his choker so that it’s centered and makes his way to Seulgi -- who makes it known that she did not approve of his antics. Cursing lightly to himself, he sheepishly walks up to her and bows his head slightly -- it had always only been Seulgi who could scold him into submission without even saying a word.
“Really?” she finally asks, after a minute of silence.
Jimin laughs nervously. “Let me have some fun, noona.” he pulls on his shoulder. “Besides, it’s not like I’m hurting them.”
Seulgi rolls her eyes and smacks the back of his head lightly. “How are you even a 4.9 with that garbage attitude?” she shakes her head before taking a large gulp from the red Solo cup filled with expensive champagne.
He lets out a silent but relieved breath before leaning back on the wall; he’s dodged a verbal beating. After a few minutes of unbearable quietness, Jimin broaches the subject of school -- a flat conversation starter that really had no place at the party, but at least he would get to make fun of Seulgi.
“Finals are coming soon,” he says, a smirk beginning to form on his lips. “See you in the second place slot, again ?” he makes sure to emphasize ‘again’ to irritate her.
Seulgi scoffs. “Not this time, Park Jimin.” she crosses her arms. “Besides, there’s other competition for you to worry about besides me.”
He tilts his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
She smiles knowingly. “Have you not checked the rankings lately?”
Jimin never really had to check rankings -- he had always been number one since elementary school.
Seulgi takes out her device and pulls up the list of the updated class rankings and shows it to Jimin.
At the top, as expected, Jimin’s name is written in bold, black lettering with his rating listed next to it. On the second line -- MIN YOONGI. 1.4.
He nearly chokes. “A 1.4? How?” he pinches the screen to zoom in. “How did he even get into Harvard Med? Hell, how did he even get into university?”
It’s Seulgi’s turn to smirk. “Might wanna use your charms and ask him.” she points to a dim corner of the complex.
Jimin follows the direction that she’s pointing in until his eyes lock onto him .
He almost falls over; the boy is absolutely beautiful under the poor lighting and flashes of multicolored hues that seem to hit his cheekbones at the perfect angle -- so much so that Jimin has a hard time remembering to breathe when he looks directly at Jimin .
The older girl chuckles at Jimin’s smitten state and nods to the group of girls who are enjoying the sight as well. “Take a picture -- it lasts longer,” Seulgi whispers before patting him on the head and walking away with her friends, satisfied that she had been the one to leave Jimin shell-shocked; albeit, unintentionally.
Jimin closes his mouth in contempt but focuses his attention back onto Min Yoongi, whose gaze never falters from Jimin’s figure. Yoongi’s illuminated, pale skin -- completely devoid of blemishes -- contrasts beautifully with his brooding coffee eyes and murky black hair; his lips were a glistening, rosy pink that he could just stare at all day: he looks ethereal under the dim lighting. Jimin bites his lip in excitement and embarrassment over how much of a hold his appearance has over him.
God , he thinks to himself, I’m fucked .
Yoongi smiles from across the room as if he knows exactly what Jimin is thinking.
[ii]
[ NAME OMITTED -- SESSION 11]
“Was it even a surprise?” he laughs hysterically, tears that he didn’t even know were ever in his eyes streaming down his cheeks in waterfalls. “It was only a matter of time.” he sucks in shallow breaths, trying calm himself but all he can see is him standing behind his therapist -- with the same eyes that had ensnared him at that party; dark, calm, but wanting.
“I would’ve done the same,” he says, swallowing down the scream that wants to tear through his throat. “Hell,” he chokes, “Maybe if I had, no one would’ve gotten hurt to begin with.”
[iii]
It’s not a gentle reintroduction back into reality.
Jimin is jolted awake by his frantic roommate, Taehyung, screeching about their early morning class -- chemistry, I think . Jimin barely registers the thought. All he can really think about is the name on the tip of his tongue and how much his head fucking hurts.
Ming Yang? Min Young-soo? Min something, he’s sure of that much.
“Hey! Do you hear me? We’re gonna be late if you don’t get up!” Taehyung’s yelling shakes him back to the apartment, “I’m never gonna be the one who drags your drunk ass back home again. God, never drink, Chim. You’re such a lightweight.”
Jimin groans when Taehyung abruptly opens the shutters, sending white, bright light straight into his face. “What are you so loud for?” he mumbles from beneath the sheets.
Taehyung lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Be late to chem.” he lets out a short laugh. “Only you could afford to anyway, both literally and metaphorically.”
He only nods and sinks back under the thick cotton duvet, almost drifting back into a peaceful slumber. Min Yoon-ji? Was it a girl’s name? He was pretty sure it was a boy. . . almost 85% certain.
Taehyung shakes his head before grabbing his backpack and giving one last attempt at coaxing Jimin out of bed. “Min Yoongi will be in class -- if he doesn’t skip, of course . . . although I don’t think he has --”
“Min Yoongi!” Jimin instantly shoots straight up from his bed, startling Taehyung. He grins at the younger with a completely sober smile. “His name is Min Yoongi!”
He then pauses. “Wait, how do you know about Min Yoongi?”
The younger chuckles. “You were babbling about him when I was trying to drive you home.”
Jimin only responds with a simple “Oh,” before stretching.
Taehyung watches in disbelief as the energy goes back into Jimin -- the elder hops out of bed and throws on a random arrangement of clothing that seems to match perfectly before quickly brushing his teeth. He then swings his messenger bag around his shoulder and practically skips out of the room before holding the door open for a dumbfounded Taehyung -- all in under five minutes.
“Hey, now we’re gonna be early,” he notes, checking the time on his device. He puts in one earbud and starts playing Naive by The Kooks loud enough so that Taehyung can catch the tune.
Taehyung wrinkles his nose. “You’re fucking ancient, Chim.”
Jimin only laughs, spinning around the hallways jamming to his playlist -- full of The Kooks, Tame Impala, and Glass Animals -- while Taehyung pretends he doesn’t know him.
He doesn’t really know why he’s in such a bright mood but he’ll enjoy it while it lasts; even the day seems to agree with him -- the weather was warm and the sun was a dim orange encapsulated by streaks of early morning pinks and vibrant blues that reminded him of the soft cotton candy of his hometown.
“Seulgi told me about Yoongi,” Taehyung starts, which brings Jimin’s focus onto him. “You should be careful. He’s a 1.4.” he sighs. “Not everyone is gonna be so accepting of a relationship of any kind between you and him.”
Jimin bites his lip nervously. “I just wanna be friends, Tae. It’s not like I’m trying to date him.” he jokes, running his hand through his unbrushed hair. “I don’t even know why he’s a 1.4 when he’s got a face like that and the grades of a genius,” he mumbles.
“ Exactly, ” Tae looks at his friend in disbelief. “Even though the stereotypes around low ratings are categorical and ostracizing, they have some weight. He seems like another you, yet his ratings are that low.” he warns, “Maybe he’s actually a psychopath out to kill you.”
Jimin scoffs. “Don’t be stupid, Tae. Harvard does full mental capacity scans as a requirement for entrance.”
“Yeah, and Harvard Med also requires you to have at least a 4.5 to be considered yet here he is. Sitting in our chemistry class that needs you to be a 4.0.” Taehyung says, stopping when they reach the building. “I’m just telling you to be careful. Most of the people in the world aren’t Seulgi and me.”
Jimin nods before looking at the younger with a hopeful but reserved expression on his face. “I just wanna know him. . . you know? He gives me the same feeling as. . .” he trails off, swallowing before finishing his sentence. “R-Rose.” he shudders. “Sorry. . . I don’t know why. . .”
Taehyung’s eyes soften and he hesitates for a moment but extends his hand to pat Jimin on the head. “She was sick, hyung. Hell, you were sick. It was just bad luck.” he says, struggling to come up with the right words. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
The blonde only absentmindedly shakes his head before closing his eyes and pulls himself back into the present. “I know,” he responds quietly, cursing himself for ruining the perfect ambient atmosphere. “Come on,” he says after a brief moment of silence. “Class is gonna start in three minutes.”
Taehyung watches with a twinge of worry in his heart as Jimin pushes open the doors to the lecture hall and disappears behind them.
[iv]
[ NAME OMITTED -- SESSION 14]
“I wish,” he starts, running his tongue over his chapped lips nervously, “I-I wish I knew the kind of mess I was getting myself in.” He pauses for a moment to watch the mousy woman furiously scribble notes down on her faded yellow notepad. “But I don’t regret it. . .” he smiles to himself, ignoring the tinkling sound of the chains as he moves his arm. “Does anyone ever really regret their first love?”
“I suppose not.” the woman finally speaks, pushing her thin-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose.
He chuckles lowly. “Nobody will have what we had.” he shakes his head before leaning forward, letting out a sound of irritation when the handcuffs chaining him to the chair restrain him from moving any further. “He was my soulmate. . .” he says before staring deep into the woman’s eyes. “ He still is .”
[v]
Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s annoyed or amused by his new row neighbor; he’s cute, what with the blonde curls and the baby-face that probably got him high ratings from the girls -- but his music taste, at least from what he could hear pouring out of his earbuds, was subpar at best and fucking ancient at its worst.
But since he’s pretty and Yoongi isn’t used to company, he lets him stay.
The lens in his eye flashes blue for a brief moment as it pulls up the kid’s profile -- PARK JIMIN . 4.9. Accompanied by pictures upon pictures of seemingly candid and genuine snapshots of him with his friends, food, and different places that even Yoongi, with his love of travel, couldn’t recognize.
Why the hell is he sitting here then?
He tilts his head slightly as he thinks -- is it for an initiation? Or is it for some cheap thrills? Is this kid here because he’s bored? Yoongi wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the case; nearly all of the kids attending the university are there because they’re bored.
“You should take a picture.” Jimin suddenly says, his eyes never leaving the packet of elementary stoichiometry problems the professor had requested to be printed out. “The lens only focuses for four minutes so if you want an in-depth analysis you’re gonna have to take a picture.”
Yoongi doesn’t say anything back, but the amused glint in his eye gives him away too easily. He curses softly to himself when Jimin turns to face him and catches it, instantly lights up.
“You were at the party.” Jimin starts, unsure of how to start a conversation. “In the corner with the drunk kid.”
The elder internally groans, remembering that Joon is still passed out on the couch of his apartment. He thinks about it again before realizing that Joon is most likely awake and eating all of the takoyaki and ramyeon that he had accumulated in his fridge.
“Everyone was at that party,” Yoongi says, his voice low and rough.
But even those few words are enough to bring a sheepish smile to Jimin’s face. The kid seems to be completely oblivious to the nervous whispering around him; the less-than-furtive glances that people shoot in their general direction. How it had no effect on his ratings or his mentality, Yoongi didn’t know.
“I’m Park Jimin.” he introduces himself, although he knows that Yoongi had already seen his profile.
Yoongi nods. “I know.”
Jimin bites his lip before beginning to wonder. Was he even looking at me last night?
The elder smirks. “You were the one who had champagne come out his nose after taking too big of a gulp.” He suppresses the urge to laugh when Jimin chokes on his own spit.
“W-Well, i-it wasn’t that. . .” he stutters, his cheeks burning a deep scarlet.
Before he can reply, however, the professor silences them by coughing into the microphone. The loud auditorium takes a few seconds to settle down, but eventually, nothing can be heard besides the professor’s light breathing.
“Chemistry is life.” he begins, ignoring the snickers that resound across the assembled students. “Really, it is. Chemical reactions ignite the light that allows us all to breathe; to walk; to see.” the professor pauses. “I said these words to you when we first began classes back in August. Now, I think it’s time we put these words into action.”
The professor turns on the projector. Instantly, a light purple slide with the words ‘Chemistry in Life Project’ written in bold, yellow Times New Roman font. Jimin resists the urge to cringe at the choice of color -- it looks like something you would see on the title screen of a Wiggles episode.
“This is a project I have been formulating since the beginning of the course. This is an advanced chemistry course so the parameters and requirements for the project have been adjusted as such. Essentially, I’ve partnered you up with people you normally wouldn’t speak to -- that is, people who have different ratings, majors, interests, and origins.” he explains. “You will observe them, talk with them, see who they are. And then you will tell me what reactions took place to make them, well, them. I want details, people. Don’t tell me ‘cellular respiration’ and think you’re gonna get an ‘A’.”
There’s a collective murmur of unease.
“This is supposed to be a grade booster -- a safety net if you will. This course is difficult and I have been getting hammered by admin to do something about the increase in fails. Don’t screw it up, please.” the professor continues. “Go grab some coffee with your partners, write what they order; how the ingredients will be metabolized. But also tell me about the chemical reactions in their laughter -- their smiles, their tears, their memories. What chemical reactions trigger these actions; these movements? Who knows what’ll happen after a year.” he winks.
He switches to the next slide; the partnerships are listed in purple Arial font.
“Kim Soojun and Lim Nayoung. Kim Yerim and Peng Xichen. Kim Hyuna and Jang Hyunseung.” the professor’s voice drones on and on, causing Jimin to slowly drift out of focus.
“Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. Park Jimin and Min Yoongi. Chou Tzuyu and. . .”
Jimin’s eyes widen and he slowly looks at Yoongi, who seems completely unbothered; in fact, he’s half asleep in his chair. The murmur is back in the crowd and Jimin can hear the group behind him talking excitedly.
“I heard he killed his sister and they couldn’t find enough evidence because he was so smart,” they whisper. “And that he threatened the dean of admissions to get in.”
“Oh god,” a girl said, “He’ll kill Park Jimin for sure!”
He hears another person sigh. “Poor Jimin. He must be so terrified right now.”
The blonde wrinkles his nose in disgust. You guys don't even know him, he thinks and looks at Yoongi with a curious expression.
Ratings of less than 2.0 were universally regarded as warning signs -- what could that person have done in their life to earn a rating so low when low ratings were given when a person did something abhorrent? People generally avoided the low-rated out of fear of being murdered or robbed or worse. Hell, most people generally thought of below 2.0s as psychopaths.
Min Yoongi didn’t look like a psychopath or a murderer or a criminal -- he looked fairly normal, albeit he did look more exhausted than the average person.
“You should take a picture.” Yoongi mumbles, his speech slightly slurred from sleepiness. “The lens only focuses for four minutes so if you want an in-depth analysis you’re gonna have to take a picture.”
Jimin can’t help but smile.
[vi]
[ NAME OMITTED -- SESSION 17]
“Two sugars no cream.” he tilts his head, remembering all the minute details about him. “His smiles were always in his eyes. His favorite smells were the smell of the air before rain and newly bloomed s-sunflowers.” he stumbles a bit with his words. “God, he loved sunflowers.”
He adjusts himself in his seat, rattling the chains. “Sunflowers reminded him of her .”
[vii]
The weeks pass by in blurs of mounting coursework, projects, and ratings. Finals come and go, with Jimin coming out on top with perfect scores across the board. Seulgi fumes about it for a few days but quickly goes back to treating Jimin like a small child because she can never be angry at anyone or anything for long.
Meanwhile, Jimin and Yoongi have fallen into their own routine, much to Taehyung’s chagrin. At first, they had met up for coffee out of obligation for their project. But soon, it became a morning ritual to have coffee together in the school cafeteria. Sometimes one of them would arrive earlier than the other and would just buy their coffee for them and wait by their designated table -- the booth in the corner situated next to the cracked window.
Conversation was rarely exchanged between them because of Yoongi’s general antisocial personality and because of Jimin’s inability to form coherent sentences at 7 a.m. It helps that Yoongi also doesn’t really care about superficial greetings and ratings.
In the end, it doesn’t matter -- Jimin likes the comfortable, warm silence that they have.
Yoongi occasionally shows Jimin projects he’s working on, songs he’s writing, and even takes lyrics suggestions from Jimin -- but only sometimes. Most of the time, Yoongi dismisses Jimin’s ideas as ‘cliche’ and ‘tacky’. Secretly, though, he compiles some of Jimin’s lyrics after he leaves and rewrites them into patchwork songs out of a strange personal attachment to them.
Jimin never really has anything to show Yoongi besides colorfully highlighted research papers filled with annotations. ‘These are the most BSed annotations I’ve ever seen.’ Yoongi would say before looking out the window. ‘And the non-highlighted parts might as well be the highlighted ones considering how much of a mess you’ve made out of the actual paper.’
Some nights, they accidentally bump into each other at the library -- Jimin, studying for a pop quiz he’s certain is coming while Yoongi is only there because the heating breaks constantly at his apartment.
Those are Jimin’s favorite moments.
Yoongi will tell him stories of his childhood to ease Jimin’s stress; stories about Daegu -- the time he broke his arm trying to climb a lamp post, the time he got pneumonia from swimming in a frozen lake out of spite, and Jimin’s personal favorites -- stories about a girl named Suran and their copious adventures.
Even then, Jimin has few interesting stories to tell. After all, he came from a wealthy background filled with private tutors and strict rules on behavior; in fact, he was fairly certain that the most rebellious thing he’s done his entire life is talk back to his dad -- and that was only once.
But Yoongi slowly coaxes the stories that Jimin doesn’t want to remember out of him; Jimin doesn’t blame him -- the sad ones are the only interesting stories he has. And despite the resistance he has to Yoongi’s gentle prodding, the words just end up spilling out of his mouth like hot water.
He tells Yoongi about the night his mother died -- “ Drowned. I didn’t know how to swim.” Jimin swallows the lump in his throat. “Imagine that, huh? This wealthy and I still didn’t know how to swim. ”
He tells him about the week where he ran away and lived with his estranged aunt who promptly turned him in for the reward money -- “ I get why, though.” he had said, a small, sheepish smile creeping onto his face. “She needed the money. ”
And the worst of all, he tells him about the two years he spent lying in a hospital bed -- unsure if he was going to die -- and about Rose.
“ It was a cardiac angiosarcoma.” he laughs bitterly, “The world only sees one case per year but somehow there happened to be two -- Rose and I.” he chews on the inside of his cheek. “They gave me the experimental treatment slot because they said I had a higher chance at survival -- but we both knew it was because of my higher rating. Rose died the next week. ”
He’s uncertain at first, but then he ends up vomiting the words out. Jimin wants to cry as he recounts the endless nights with tubes down his throat, pumping fluid out of his lungs; the bitterness of getting so close to remission halfway through and then the cancer coming back with a vengeance; the soft, calming nights spent talking with Rose, who was living on borrowed time.
Yoongi never says anything when Jimin tells his stories.
But when he tells Yoongi about his illness and Rose and the guilt that’s been consuming him ever since, the elder suddenly grabs his hand and says, “ It wasn’t your fault. ”
Jimin usually wants to scream and yell when people tell him that but when the words fall out of Yoongi’s mouth, he feels strangely at peace.
It’s the kind of effect Min Yoongi has on him.
Yet despite all of this, Taehyung still doesn’t approve of him.
“Then what’s your partner like?” Jimin finally asks, frustration creeping into his voice.
Taehyung snickers. “Well, for one, he’s a 4.5. Jungkook’s kinda strange though. But I think that’s just because he’s young and still in his awkward stage. He says he has a handmade, life-size iron-man suit made of metal scraps from car parts. Chim, he even showed me a picture of it.” he says incredulously, “He’s sweet, although he talks too much for my liking..”
Jimin laughs softly. “Min Yoongi doesn’t really talk.” he begins, “I do know that he’s from Daegu, tells great stories, and is a music major, though.” he doesn’t divulge the more personal things Yoongi has told him.
The younger wrinkles his brow. “What’s he doing in this chemistry class then? An introductory chemistry course should’ve fulfilled his graduation requirements.”
Jimin shrugs. “He probably would’ve been bored.” he offers. “I asked him about the kind of music he liked and he told me to check out some underground rapper named ‘Agust D’.”
Taehyung eggs him on. “Did you?”
Jimin scrunches his nose. “I did. He’s alright. You know how much I dislike rap. But I tried this ‘Agust D’ guy out for Yoongi.” he scratches his head. “‘Tony Montana’ and ‘The Last’ are pretty good but the whole album isn’t really my kind of music.” he hesitates. “The voice sounds familiar though.”
Taehyung laughs as Jimin goes deep into thought. “You might as well be a fossil with your taste in music.” he teases, “ Besides, it’s probably someone from the music department that Yoongi is friends with. Don’t think about it too much.”
Jimin nods. The two continue walking back to the apartment in silence, stopping only to greet passing ‘friends’ with ratings and superficial ‘hello’s’ and ‘how are you’s’.
Once they arrive, Jimin drops his messenger bag on the ground, kicks off his shoes and dives into his unmade bed. Taehyung clicks his tongue in annoyance before hitting the elder with a pillow. “Hey, we still have to get dinner.”
Jimin groans. “Just order something from Panda Express,” he says, his voice slightly muffled by the thick covers.
“I thought we agreed to have real food this month.” Taehyung reminds him, although he’s almost about to explode in excitement at the thought of eating Panda Express.
Jimin rolls his eyes. “Tae, we both know you’re dying to get your hands on their fried noodles so just go order some delivery. You can even use my card.”
Taehyung gives his thanks in a sing-songy voice. “It’s a shame you aren’t dating me,” he says dramatically.
“You’re a little too high maintenance.” Jimin shoots back.
The younger pouts. “I’m hurt, Chim. I really thought we had a special connection.”
Jimin scoffs before burrowing himself deeper into the blankets.
“The only special connection you have with me is through my debit card.”
The indignant sound that Tae makes brings a tired smile to his face.
[viii]
[ NAME OMITTED -- SESSION 23]
He doesn’t say anything, too exhausted yet so afraid to sleep.