The way Jimin saw it, swimming – while playing an important role in his life – was not his life completely. He was dedicated, but not to the point where he’d give up his entire life for the sake of professional sports (even though the thought had crossed his mind once or twice). During high school, he’d put in six hours a week to practice swimming, something to break himself of the routine of his everyday life, and a couple of years later, he was still putting in the same amount of time to improve his strength, if not more. The training in university differed from what he’d been used to in high school, and although transitioning into the position on Mugunghwa’s swim club took a bit more time than he’d been expecting, he managed to notice the difference between the two rather quickly.
Competitions, for one. While not a thing Jimin was originally very enthused about, over time, competitions appeared to have grown on him. During the first semester, Jimin had only signed up for a four-hundred meter medley relay during one of the swim club’s competitions, because the captain had made sure to tell everyone that it was obligatory. Over the last semester, however, Jimin was almost always the first to sign up for the events of any competition, and the contrast between the two was almost shocking.
Jimin had come to realize, somewhere between the first semester and the last, that the drive that always brought him back to the pool was only strengthened during competitions. Something about being in the water with a goal in mind, from experience, had only pushed him to do more – to swim faster, neater, to make it look more professional. Jimin wouldn’t admit it out loud, but deep down, he had a liking for competitions.
That day, he’d woken up late, after having forgotten to set the right alarm the night before, and in no less than a couple of minutes after that he’d bolted out of his door, grey duffel bag in hand, and his phone laying forgotten on his nightstand (right where he’d left it after checking the time and nearly jumping out of his bed).
Fast forward ten to twenty minutes, after Jimin’s sprint over to the fitness center and after a quick change in the fitness center’s locker room, and Jimin was rushing over to stand beside his fellow club members, blinking a wincing a couple of times while he hurriedly put his swim cap over his fading crimson red hair and awaited the event he was in to be called (which, if his memory served to be correct, he’d made it in almost in time for).
He found his eyes skimming over the small audience that had started to gather by the door, and something that was strangely familiar to disappointment fell into his system when he couldn’t find the one face he’d been hoping to see that day.
No surprise, though, just disappointment.
