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@xinanlide
Shutting off his computer screen with a tired ‘oomph’, Jimin settles back into his chair for a much needed break. He’s been grading papers for the past four hours for a class he’s TA’ing for - a total of thirty-two - and at this point he feels like his brain has melted into a mush. It’s a taxing responsibility, being in that position, and in all honesty it doesn’t pay as much as his work is worth. But still, it’s extra income along with his job at the smoothie shop, and what with his major being on the pricier side, he could really use all the extra cash.
Done with grading his stack for the day, Jimin hopes a certain tall figure will march through his doors anytime now. Taehyung has become quite the familiar presence in his room in the past moth and a half, after the Incident has died down. They’ve never addressed it, never acknowledged it, and it’s okay. Because they were able to move on from it and quite frankly, Jimin can say that at this point they’re practically joined at the hip. Their snaps and vines are known all throughout their circle of friends and starting to get recognition from people they’ve never met, and it’s probably the closest Jimin will ever come to a claim for fame. And there’s just something so easy and comforting about being around Tae; he doesn’t have to try to be anything because Taehyung always laughs at his jokes, teases back, tells him how great he is, goes along with his plans... there’s nothing, he thinks, that he wouldn’t do with him. Wouldn’t do for him. And it’s absurd, because they’ve only known each other for a couple of months, but Jimin feels more connected to Tae than to any of his old friends.
There’s no knock on the door, as per usual, because by now Jimin’s room is pretty much Taehyung’s room, as well. His own roommate barely shows up, and with Tae’s roommate being there too often, he’s come to think of the room across the hall as his sanctuary. Jimin expects to hear Tae’s deep voice in some sort of joke or complaint, to hear his footsteps fast and hard-hitting against the floor as he pats his way to his seat. But there’s nothing. It’s alarmingly quiet, and Jimin rises to his feet before he realises he’s moving. Taehyung’s head is bowed down, hair too long and falling into his eyes in a way that makes him look like a kicked puppy. Chest clenching in mixed adoration and pity, Jimin asks an unsure “Hey, Taetae, what happened?”. Even without waiting for an answer, he wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him against his chest, guiding them both towards his bed to sit down. “What’s going on?”