I haven’t stopped thinking about it. All day. MIN YOONGI...
He didn’t just throw his money at it. Didn’t just offer some nice words...
He built something. With time. Heart. Actual presence.
As someone with light autism and ADHD, whose amygdala straight up doesn’t work right (not experiencing fear or overreacting completely), whose even been turned off by foster families, changed elementary school too many times (and I never told anyone about the last two facts before)? This hits. Hits deep. Deeper than words. That’s why his lyrics are inked onto the back of my neck. His music got me through. His honesty made me feel seen.
And now? This center exists. For kids like me. Because of him. Because he showed up.
He helped create the MIND program. Volunteered for months. Sat with those kids. Made music with them. Helped them open up. This wasn’t a performance... this was SO real.
He said he has two dreams... being that old man on stage with a guitar... and becoming a therapist. To help the ones coming after him.
He didn’t just say it, I know he meant it.
I’m studying social work, focusing on child psycholog and youth welfare. Soon... heading abroad again for my master’s in international social work. And I swear. I will work my everything off. Every. Single. Day. Until I make it...
Because this? This is the biggest fuel. The purest motivation I could ever have.
I've been crying. Laughing. Quietly tearing up all day.
My heart just... feels right. Settled.
I’ll never find the word. Never. Not for this. Not for him... EVER
Jeon Y/n didn’t transfer to Ashtonbury Academy to be second best. She came for the top spot. The only problem? Min Yoongi. To him, she’s an unwanted complication; to her, he’s the only wall left to climb.
He’s the obstacle. She’s the disaster. And in the game of who can hate the other more, who would win?
"You might beat me at other things, but you can’t beat me when it comes to hating you."
"You can never be sure, Yoongi. I might beat you in that too."
Pairing: Yoongi x FMC
Genre: High school au, fluff, academic rivals, enemies to ?
A/N: This is a reimagine of Muse (MYG) where Yoongi and Y/n are classmates.
Right… It was never enough. No matter how high I achieved, if I’m not the first, it means nothing. -Muse (Chapter 6)
This is a work of fiction. Events, characters, and depictions are entirely imagined and do not represent the real-life actions or personalities of any real individuals, including the idols mentioned.
Muse link!! Wattpad link
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<MUSE>
Clearing my throat, I glance at him as we walk. “You know, we kinda look like we’re classmates. I wonder what type of classmate you are…”
A slow grin creeps into Yoongi's face. “Hmm… we’ll probably be academic rivals.”
Stopping my track, I raise a brow at him. He stops too, tilting his head as if to ask me why I stopped. I cross my arms, mimicking the way he tilted his head. “What do you mean? Why… would we be rivals?”
He chuckles for some reason, crossing his arms like I did.
Are we in a mimicking competition?
“Just so you know… I might not seem like it, but I was quite a competitive person,” he says, almost sounding so smugly in my ears. “And I heard, you really did great in school.”
I nod, a small smirk plays in my lips. “Hmm… So, you consider me a threat in your academic validation?”
Yoongi huffs out a laugh, nodding as if thinking about it. “You can say that… But I tell you what—I hate losing.”
My brow twitches, not expecting him to be this type of person. It surprises me that behind the soft and gentle Yoongi that I know, is someone that’s competitive as I was.
Before I can reply, he steps forward—just a few steps to shorten our gap even more. “And I don’t do the things I hate.”
And in another universe, where Y/n and Yoongi cross paths again, will everything be just fine? Better than the Muse universe where they know so little about each other when they were high school students?
Is it right that the fate tugs their red strings closer again?
2010
First day of senior year!!
But what...?
That snorlax is my… classmate?!
A week ago…
As my mother is too busy talking with a teacher, I slip away and go to roam the school.
But my adventure doesn’t last as it starts to rain. Reaching a shedded place, I groan. “Oh great… Why call it summer when it rains this heavy?”
I know the rain won’t stop soon, so I turn to look at the room behind me.
“So I end up in front of a library…”
Noticing the door ajar, I go inside. I look around the large and wide library. But none of the books really interest me—simply because I've read most of it…unwillingly.
I sit at one of the tables there, and at the same time, I notice a guy sitting just a couple of tables across from me. His head resting on his arms as he sleeps soundlessly.
In my perspective, he has this soft doll feature that I almost envy him. His skin is as pale as the cold snow, his brunette hair looks soft too—making me wonder what products he is using just to achieve that perfect fluffy looking hair. Small button nose—boopable, thick brows, pink lips that look kissab—
I shake off those thoughts. Why did the thought of kissing a complete stranger suddenly come to my mind? Have I gone mad?
To summarize my whole impression of him—physically—he’s… fine. Which is an understatement, I know.
But what makes me wonder is what his eyes look like. Does he have doe eyes? A siren? A hooded one?
The reason I’m interested in people's eyes is because as the old saying goes “Eyes are the window to our soul,” it thrills me knowing how many words are left unsaid yet with a brief glance, you can tell—you can feel their emotions stronger than any words could describe.
Cliché? Trust me, I know.
I’m just genuinely weird… I guess?
The rain doesn’t seem to plan on stopping so I look over the snorlax once again. Observing the books that are piled up beside him, I look at him with horror and disgust.
Calculus… Linear algebra… Topology… and wha—Quantum physics?!! I’ve read that once, and I don’t have a plan on reading that again. Is he preparing for college at Harvard or something?
He’s so pretty that I just now took a look at what he was doing before he fell asleep. Turns out he’s some kind of nerd, huh? I just hope we won’t be in the same class so I won’t have any problem.
It’s still first or nothing afterall…
I stand up on my seat, and start walking towards his table. I take a look at the notebook that is neatly placed beside the stack of books.
Min Yoongi… Cute name for a cute face.
I let out a silent chuckle before flipping the notebook open.
“Whoa… Seeing all these equations… really brings me back to time. The things he’s reading don't even have any connection to their current topic.” I click my tongue, flipping the pages even more until I land on his unfinished assignment.
“Functions and relations? Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” I mutter as I take his pen that is sprawled on the table, and sit a few feet away from him to answer his assignment.
I know that it’s wrong to touch someone’s stuff without their permission, but I’d like to think of this as help to him—instead of meddling (which I’m obviously doing). I saw his past marks of his other seat works and assignments, and they are all nearly or just perfect. Answering this won’t pull him down. I know what I’m doing—I think.
Why is he reading all those when he still has an unfinished assignment?
A sudden thought comes to my mind while I’m answering his homework. The questions are too easy that I can do it with my one eye closed.
Maybe he finds that answering this is such a waste of time when he could be reading quantum physics instead. Or… those books are just a display and he purposely went here to sleep. The latter seems more believable, honestly.
As I’m close to finishing answering, I notice that the rain outside has stopped. I have one more question to answer anyway, so I start scribbling faster until I’m done. Once I’m finished with it, I draw my little doodle as a signature.
ㅡㅅㅡ
Cute…
I place it back to where the notebook and pen was originally placed, making sure that he won’t have any suspicions until he sees that his homework is done.
It’ll be funny if he’ll think that some ghost answered it.
Back to the present…
I stand in front of the 11-A’s class, eyes never leaving his face. He’s looking back at me with confusion—with smug confusion. His brow raises a bit, his head tilting, arms crossed as he eyes me as if we’re having a staring contest I didn’t know that has started. I can barely grasp the words that my teacher is saying in the background as I‘m too immense on staring back at him.
He has sharp eyes. A dainty-looking pair. It makes him look like a doll a thousand times better. Even from a few feet, I can see his soft features properly now—better than when I saw him in the library. He still has that cute nose and lips, of course. His hair is neatly combed—making his bangs rest on his forehead just right. His face is a whole perfection, the sharpness of his eyes and brows balance well with his nose, lips, and cheeks. His soft-looking round cheeks.
The type of face I’d draw even in the late hours of the night. Trying so hard, yet even with how many times I try, I still can’t draw him perfectly. Like my hands are not worthy enough to capture it—to draw his perfect face.
I hear the teacher clear her throat and mention my name that takes me back to reality. “So, as I was saying, why don’t you introduce yourself Ms. Jeon?”
My head snaps toward her, giving her a small apologetic smile. “Yeah, sorry.” I turn to look back at the class that consists of exactly thirty students—I did some research, but sadly enough, I wasn’t able to look at everyone’s profile. Though, I was able to get some information about Min Yoongi.
And with every information that I gathered about him, all I know is that he’s a threat.
Academically? Great. In terms of sports? Has a winning streak in their basketball league. He’s even leading a small group of students and teachers that handles charities. He also has the charming and pleasing personality that makes everyone head over heels for him—from what I heard, of course. Not that I’m believing it until it happens to me. Everything in the limited information I got says he’s the perfect role model student that everyone is gushing over.
How can I compete with… that? This only tells me that for the rest of the school year, I will only suffer from the academic validation my parents are hungry for.
With a confident stance, I smile at everyone before speaking in the most amiable but formal tone I’ve always been disgusted hearing. “Good morning, everyone. My name is Jeon Y/n. I’m fifteen years old. I was born on December 27, 1994. I like to read. I also write whenever I feel poetic enough, and spend most of my time drawing,” I pause, not really knowing what I am supposed to say after the unnecessary facts about myself. I decided to just end with it, not really wanting to let them know where I used to study. “That’s it. I hope we’ll all be on good terms!” I say with much fake enthusiasm, and bows at them.
“You look familiar… Where do you used to study?” A sudden voice cuts through.
I stand up straight to turn to look where the voice came from. A girl with her hair dyed in purple looks at me with genuine curiosity.
Do they know…?
I study her face, looking for any malicious intent but I find none. Her wide eyes just stare at me as if I’m a boring painting placed in a museum. I clear my throat as I smile at her. “I used to study in Orion High School.”
A few gasps from here and there after they hear it. It’s not really a surprise for me to see them act like that as my previous school is known for being prestigious. For being second.
Second-best to this school. Practically a rival one.
This school—Ashtonbury Academy—is more costly than Orion High, but a few weeks before the school starts again, I got an email that says they’re willing to give me a full scholarship to their school. The reason was probably because ever since I took over the leadership in almost every academic and athletic group, Orion High almost beat them for being first in everything.
Again—almost.
I was only able to manage to get the first wins in a few competitions and categories. Especially since I was the only one who was lifting the whole team to the prize. Though, in terms of individual competitions, at least 77% of them I was able to win—to be the first.
As soon as I told my parents about the email, they were literally forcing supporting me to change schools.
That’s why hearing them gasp and murmur from here and there is understandable. I ditched my old school to go to their rival. I’m a complete traitor—not that I care. I’m only here to study and make sure I won’t hear my parents blabbing how I’m not the first or something.
But again… How can I?
Even without knowing him personally, I know I should be careful around him. Make sure all my guards are up—neverminding the fact how beautiful he is. I turn to look at him again, wanting to see at least a glimpse of his beauty, but what greets me is his scowling face.
What’s his problem…
I let out a small huff, and plaster a fake smile on my face once again.
“Yoongi, can you raise your hand?” The teacher calls out, and he does as he’s told. He’s sitting exactly in the middle like a king surrounded by peasants—it's an exaggeration of course. “Now, hands down. He’s the class president, and you can ask him for the requirements and tasks that their subject teachers gave them before you came here. And don’t worry, Yoongi will help you. Right, Yoongi?”
His scowl vanishes as the teacher tells him his tasks. He smiles politely, but I know that smile too well. It’s the same smile I use whenever a teacher hands me a task I hate. “Of course, ma’am. It is my pleasure.”
Wow… That voice…
His voice is soft, but deep. It’s alluring enough that it almost makes my knees weak. At the same time, the voice seems familiar too, I just don’t know why.
“I knew I could rely on you,” she compliments him before turning to me again. “As for your seat… Sit with Jimin. He’s also a transferee here so I think you guys can bond more since you share that same thing!” The enthusiasm in her tone is enough to ring in my ears for a few days and still will never leave. She points at the blondie who’s sitting near the window. His head hangs low but he smiles when he sees me walking towards him.
I take a seat beside him, putting my bag down and taking out a notebook to start taking notes on whatever the teacher will say. Not even a minute after settling down, Jimin speaks. “Aren’t you friends with Taehyung?”
My head snaps toward him so fast I almost break my neck. “How—You know him?”
He nods, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re friends too. He told me his friend will also transfer here… So, it’s you, huh?”
“Yeah…”
“I’m friends with your brother too, don’t you know that?”
Okay… Maybe this is a bait…. I’ve never seen him before.
I play pretend, keeping a small smile. “Who?”
”Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook,” he replies. “Your last name is Jeon and you’re friends with Tae so I assume…”
So, he is actually friends with them.
“Oh, yeah. I’m his sister,” I say as I chuckle awkwardly. “How come they never told me about you?”
“They don’t? Man… that hurts.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Anyways, why did you only start attending now?”
I scratch the back of my head, smiling at him as I’m too embarrassed about my actual reason (which is me hanging out at my grandma’s house longer than I should). Instead, I just lie. “I got sick, so… yeah… Hah…”
He only nods, suppressing a grin that threatens him to appear. “Ah… Wasn’t it because you were…” He leans a bit closer, enough that he can whisper me his next words. “You were at your grandma’s?”
My eyes widen as I gape at him. “How—”
Jimin pulls back, not suppressing his grin anymore. He shrugs, chuckling quietly as he catches my lie. “Taehyung told me.” That is the last thing he says before turning to face the front to write down the teacher’s lectures.
>>>
The next class starts, and all of our eyes are fixated on the board. Our teacher is discussing matrices. So far, it’s one of the easiest lessons I came across.
A matrix is a rectangular array of numbers. It has rows—symbolized by m and is horizontal—and columns—symbolized by n and is vertical. The numbers inside are called ‘elements’. There is also something called a ‘dimension’ which is ‘m x n’. For example, the row is 3 and the column is 2, so the dimension is 3 x 2.
So simple isn’t it?
There are a lot of types of matrices. Row (just one row), Column (one column), Square (equal m and n), Zero (all elements are zero), Diagonal (the elements are lined up diagonally—rest is zero), Scalar (same with diagonal, but the elements are the same), Identity(same with scalar, but only using number one), Upper and Lower Triangular (aligns in a triangular form: one is upper, the other is lower—vice versa), and Rectangular matrix.
To solve (if it’s a word problem), it should be in a general equation form first. Then, simply turn it into a matrix arrangement.
In solving a matrix in addition (or subtraction), their dimension should be the same. Simply add their corresponding elements. This operation is the simplest because it is commutative (interchanging the numbers doesn’t affect the answer) and associative (grouping the numbers—using parentheses—doesn’t change the result either.).
I’m too focused on recalling and writing down every important thing our teacher says that I jolt a little when I hear my name.
“Jeon? New girl?” She calls, making me look up at her. “Since you’re new here, you’ll answer this one.”
What does that have to do with me being new here?
It seems like she read my mind as she adds, “I like doing a mini game during my discussions. All of your classmates have played already, so now it’s your turn.”
I stand up, feeling slightly nervous as I walk towards the board.
She gives me a chalk as she smiles at me. Then, she turns back to them. “Any volunteer to—Oh.” She lightly chuckles. “Come here then, Yoongi.”
I look at him, and I feel my heart jump at the sight of him. But… he barely bears me a glance. Face blank as he only looks at the problem on the board.
“Okay.” Our teacher claps enthusiastically. “The rules are once I say go, you’ll have to solve that. No peeking at one another’s work. The first one to finish wins and gets a plus-five points for our next quiz!”
The second I hear there’ll be plus points for the winner makes me want to take this seriously. Yoongi and I have the same problem to solve. Nothing too hard nor easy.
In the problem, it says:
My brain already knows the answers just by looking at it. It’s only a matter of if I’m able to write those fast.
I take a deep breath, my hands hovering the board as I wait for her signal.
“Ready… Get set… Go!”
As soon as she says it, my hand swiftly writes the answers. I keep my pace up while still making sure all of them are right. And with the last digit, I harshly write it, making a ‘tack’ sound.
“Done!” I look back at her, suppressing my grin. The adrenaline that suddenly surged through me is slowly dying down.
“Ooh, someone’s fast,” she teases as she checks my answer.
I’m confidently sure it is right, as my answer is:
“It’s correct.” She applauds, making the whole class clap too. Then she turns to Yoongi who’s now scowling. Still cute though. “Hmm… Yours are right too, but she’s faster.” She clicks her tongue as she gestures to us to go back to our seats. “Anyhow, Y/n wins!”
I’m feeling giddy inside but I’m still trying to keep a composed look. There’s nothing better than getting bonus points for a quiz after all.
>>>
The bell rings and it’s already lunch time. Jimin beside me starts tidying up his things—putting everything back on his bag. On the other hand, I just sit still, watching everybody leave. Jimin notices that I seem like I don’t plan to move but rather just slack off in the room.
He nudges me, tilting his head as he asks, “Aren’t you going to eat lunch?”
“I am,” I say as I turn to look at him and nod. “I’m just going to eat here while I do some work. I packed some snacks anyway.”
He nods, but before he can leave completely, I reach out to grab his wrist. “Oh, and…” I chuckle awkwardly—again—as I look at him. Not that I feel uneasy with him, it’s just that I really get embarrassed whenever I have to ask someone for things—especially if we just get to know each other. “Can I borrow your notes? Just for the things that I missed out.”
“Sure—”
Someone cuts Jimin off as they clear their throats. I turn my head to the side where the sound comes from, and to my surprise, I see Yoongi standing a few feet away from me. He’s holding a piece of paper as he looks down on his feet. His brows are knit together, which makes him look like a grump. A beautiful grump.
It takes a second before he shifts his eyes to me. His gaze remains cold and sharp.
Damn.
“I already told the teacher that I’ll help you. Wouldn’t it be disrespectful if you ask others?” Yoongi says, unamused for some reason.
His statement catches me off guard. He’s… presumptuous. And I can’t even solely focus on the rudeness of his tone because of his angelic face.
Even from a few feet away from him, I can see his milky soft skin glow with the help of sunlight that shines on him. His dark brown eyes pop and make it too alluring to look at him. His hair appears in a lighter shade of brown—still due to the sun rays. In this stance of his, it makes me realize how sharp his jaw is. How good his face is sculpted. Like God Himself took the whole nine months to shape him in the most perfect way he could grant a human while he’s in his mother’s womb.
It’s unfair how he looks good—no, ‘good’ is an understatement. Pulchritudinous, that’s the word I’ll use to describe his looks. It’s the longest and hardest one to pronounce that I read in a book back then. It’s unfair how he looks so pulchritudinous while wearing our uniform. For him to wear a plain white collared shirt, vest, tie and trousers, and still look like he’s going for a high school photoshoot. The uniform suits him so much that I would think he’s portraying a rich kid in a high school drama.
The way he stands, his wide shoulders and long legs make his frame look well-proportioned. From the tiniest strand of his hair, to his toe, everything looks in perfect harmony. Like a conductor used his whole life to practice his masterpiece.
Before I even know it, I start murmuring as I get lost in him. “I can draw a circle here… a small triangle just below his—”
“A what?” he asks, his eyebrow raising at me in a provocative way.
My eyes quickly shift to look back at his eyes. “H-huh..? Oh—Yeah… I… Erm… What were you saying again?” I say as I smile at him apologetically.
“I was—Nevermind.”
That’s all he says before turning on his heel, leaving me dumbfounded.
It takes at least a good three seconds for me to remember what we were talking about.
“Ah—Right! The notes!” I exclaim as I groan, rubbing my temple after realizing how obtuse I must’ve looked like. “Uhm, Jimin—” I turn to the other side to ask my seatmate again for the notes, but when I do, I’m greeted with no one. “He must’ve left too…”
How long did I actually stare at him...?
>>>
The day has come to an end, leaving me to worry about the requirements I have to finish until tomorrow. After I fed myself some street food near the school, I headed straight to the school library, looking for a book that I can use as a reference for our English homework. We have to write an essay about William Shakespear that includes his works and why he is called the greatest playwright.
As I scan through the shelves, I can’t seem to find the one that I need. Sighing exasperatedly, I give up and go to the study area. My eyes light up, feeling giddy inside as I see Yoongi. His back faces me as he scribbles some stuff. Then just when I come closer to him, I see the exact book I’ve been searching for.
Should I sit beside him or ask first? He’s kinda… grumpy.
I instinctively chew my lower lip as my mind goes into panic whenever I have to decide on the spot. I’m not much of a people person, making it harder for me to decide. I hesitantly walk back and forth, until it seems like he notices my presence.
“What are you doing?” he asks sharply, which makes me freeze. He doesn’t even have to look at me, yet I can feel the coldness in his tone.
I clear my throat as I compose myself. “I uh… I’m just wondering if… you don’t mind sharing the book?”
He keeps his back facing me, not even answering my request. After a second of remaining still, he stands up. Tidying up his things, he slings his bag to his shoulder, and walks past me without even taking a glance.
What… was that…?
The book remains on the table, as if staring at me—questioning what just happened too. I sigh, walking towards the table. “Maybe he’s just shy… Or doesn’t like sharing… Or maybe he’s done with it…” I mutter to myself while I take my papers out from my bag.
As I finish prepping myself, I notice a piece of paper slightly sticking out from the book. I open it to that page so I can take the paper out, and when I do, I gape at what I see. “Wha—this is the… list of requirements.” Highlighted by subject to subject and the dates of the deadlines are also written. Better than what Jimin gave me—which I think that some of it are inaccurate. I chuckle as I read the piece of paper. Then to my surprise, when I shift my gaze from the paper to the book, the page is on the exact topic that I need. “Wow… that’s uh… Min Yoongi is surely full of surprises, huh?”
(MYG POV)
You’ve gotta be kidding me. She can’t be my classmate!
My gaze pierces at the girl in front of me. She’s smiling so widely that even I can tell that it’s fake, leaving me utterly disgusted. While she introduces herself, her words barely register in my head. For what anyways? Listening to her blabbing about herself is nothing worth storing. Besides, I already know her too well—not that I like that fact.
When she says which school she used to go to, everyone gasps. It’s not a surprise. She went from a rival school. I wonder how her old teachers and classmates reacted when they heard about it.
Now that we’re attending the same school, how am I supposed to beat her?!
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