it’s the hopeful sounding call of your name that alerts you out of your half-awake trance, not having realised the way your eyelids began to fall shut and your head tilt forward as you dozed off, chin propped in your hand. you blink momentarily, gaze darting from one side of the room to the other as you remember your surroundings, and look up guiltily to the already deflated expression of the boy across from you, frozen in position as he stares at you with his finger still pointing to the equation on the page that he’s been teaching you to solve- or at least, trying to.
‘please, for my sanity and mental wellbeing, tell me that you were listening to that.’ jimin already sounds like he’s lost hope, apparently knowing your answer without you even having said it yet.
‘uh.’ you hesitate, a hand coming to rub at your nape sheepishly. with an apologetic grimace, you shake your head very slightly, and jimin sits back in his seat with an exasperated groan, throwing his pen down onto the desk to instead card his fingers through his hair.
‘i’m really sorry, okay?’ you’re quick to jump in and apologise, something seeming to sink in your chest at the thought of jimin’s hard work going to nothing. ‘i should’ve been paying attention, i-‘
‘why does mr han even want us to do this, anyway?’ jimin interrupts incredulously, which isn’t entirely unwelcome, as the thought of apologising profusely to the boy who pushed you into the pool at swimming lessons when you were six and afraid of the deep end (which, no, you’re totally not still kind of salty about, because that would be totally ridiculous and irrational and you’re not that type of person- at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you fold your arms and narrow your eyes at him across the classroom) doesn’t appeal to you that much.
jimin pauses, and you take that as an opportunity to pipe up with an answer to his (probably rhetorical, now that you think about it) question. ‘you’re smart and constantly skipping class, and i’m dumb and have been hated by mr han ever since i passed that note in his math class to ask shiah to go out with me when we were thirteen. i assume that he thinks we’re both in need of a punishment.’
there’s a silence until jimin lets out an agitated sigh, slumping back to his usual position and looking you up and down with a cocked eyebrow and a slight scoff. ‘you’re not stupid, dumbass. you’d get it if you just listened to what i’m explaining to you, for once.’ he emphasises his words by repetitively tapping at your forehead with a delicate digit, prompting a scowl on your behalf as you slap his hand away. ‘besides,’ he continues, sitting back once more. ‘why do you always fall asleep at these tutor sessions? what are you doing so late each night that you always doze off when i’m trying to teach you algebra?’ he raises an eyebrow suggestively, clearly looking to rile you up, his lips curving up in an amused smirk. ‘hm, let me see. looking at you, i’m gonna assume that you’re mega kinky, maybe into slapping-?’
‘oh, shut it, jimin.’ you quickly cut him off, speaking over him loudly. ‘i wish..’ you joke for a millisecond, before returning to your indignant expression and pointing an accusing finger at him. ‘it’s nothing like that, you perv. plus, it’s none of your business. and, from what i hear, sounds like you think about this sort of thing a lot? you sure that isn’t just you projecting your masochistic, twinky fantasies onto me, park?’ you grin teasingly, happy to have flipped the situation around.
suddenly, jimin stands from his chair, the loud scrape of his chair against the cheap flooring almost making you wince. ‘this is stupid.’ jimin announces, swiftly collecting up his belongings from the desk, but still managing to seem nonchalant, as if he’s not in a rush at all. ‘if you’re not gonna pay attention,’ he continues, beginning to head for the door with his backpack slung over one shoulder, ‘then i’m not gonna waste my time in trying. you can tell mr han why these tutor sessions aren’t gonna be happening anymore-‘
’jimin, wait!’ you hate the way your voice sounds almost desperate, and you clear your throat before continuing, seeing the way that jimin stops in his tracks. ‘i am sorry. believe it or not, i do actually wanna pass this class? not to mention, mr han will have us both put in detention if we don’t continue.’
jimin huffs a little, but turns on his heel to look across at you with disdain, clearly not interested in your excuses. ‘if you’re as committed as you say you are to passing, then why do you never pay attention? this is bullshit.’
‘fuck, jimin, it’s not. as fake as it sounds, i do have a reason as to why i stay up so late all the time, and it’s not just because i’m playing video games or some stupid shit like that.’ (it’s not always because of video games, you tell yourself. that statement is simply a white lie for the greater good.) ‘can you… give me another chance, or something? i don’t know, i’m no good at apologising. but, please?’
jimin pauses briefly, his gaze scanning over your expression as if to try and work out whether you’re being serious. ‘you’re right. you’re shit at apologising.’
‘i’ll buy you ice cream!’ you blurt out as a last resort.
jimin pauses again, as if mulling it over. ‘two scoops?’
‘as many scoops as you want.’
‘…tomorrow, then. after class.’
you heave a relieved exhale as you nod, even managing to turn it into a breathy chuckle. ‘i guess no one can say no to the sweetness of ice cream, huh.’ you muse, watching as jimin’s expression morphs into a pleased grin, letting out a momentary laugh of his own. ‘yeah, i guess so. but, i think that the ice cream’s gonna taste even sweeter knowing that it’s your money being spent on it and not mine. i’ll catch you around.’ and with a final, smug remark, the door opens for a second before banging shut once more, and park jimin is gone.
‘fuckin’ loser.’ you scoff, but there’s a slight smile on your face as you sweep your books and pencilcase into your bag and zip it shut. after all, who’s not cheered up by the thought of ice cream?
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