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Like Melody and Harmony
Like Melody and Harmony
Jimin/Jungkook
5114 words ; pg-13
It's just that Jeon Jeongguk looks so nice holding a clarinet with those long, pretty fingers. And he's kind of really adorable. Otherwise bassoonist Jimin would never be happy about having to play a duet with that arrogant kid. (Taehyung is not helpful. At all.)
Jimin has a problem. That problem is Jeon Jeongguk, the cute first year clarinetist who sits next to him in advanced orchestra. Jimin is the only bassoonist, otherwise there’s no way he’d be in the first bassoonist seat. Jimin's only in advanced orchestra because he's a third year, a senior.
Jeongguk, on the other hand, not only placed into advanced orchestra, but Director Song also put him in the principle seat. He was the fastest at learning all the pieces, even though it seemed like he was always goofing off. Jimin worked as hard as he could, but it took him much longer, plus practice outside of rehearsals, to get anywhere close to Jeongguk's level. He consoles himself with the fact that his strength is actually singing. He had chosen orchestra over chorus so he could avoid the inevitable embarrassment of being put in the girls’ section for his high voice.
At any rate, it's unfair how effortlessly Jeongguk picks things up. It’s even more unfair how Jeongguk looks so nice holding his clarinet between his long, pretty fingers. Jimin doesn't like having to sit next to Jeongguk and being perpetually reminded of the fact that his fingers are chubbier and don't look nearly as elegant as Jeongguk's.
And most unfair of all is how cute Jeongguk is, perpetually curious and bright-eyed and smiling. No matter how groggy Jimin gets during practice, Jeongguk's always sitting straight up, paying attention to Director Song, ready to take on the world. It's a bit much, really, but when Jeongguk looks over and grins so hard at Jimin his eyes turn into little squints, just because a piece is finally coming together, Jimin can't help but grin back. Jeongguk's enthusiasm is infectious.
One day, Director Song pulls out a new piece and plays it for them. This is Jimin's second favorite part of learning a song (after actually playing it). It starts out beautifully, like all orchestral pieces, and Jimin jolts in surprise when the unmistakable clear woody sound of a clarinet rises to the foreground. He is even more surprised when the even more familiar sound of a whimsical bassoon answers in reply.
"If you couldn't tell, this is a duet for a clarinet and a bassoon," Director Song says when they've listened through the full piece. "Jimin will play the bassoon part and Jeongguk will play the clarinet. Make sure you practice outside of rehearsal."
Jeongguk nods and smiles widely at Director Song when he passes over the music. Jimin is less sure. It takes him a while to process. Their orchestra’s playing a clarinet and bassoon duet. Jeongguk’s playing the clarinet. Jimin’s playing the bassoon. Jimin gets to do a duet with Jeongguk.
As Jimin takes the sheet music from Director Song, with trembling hands, Jeongguk looks over and flashes another grin. Jimin returns it, hoping he doesn’t look like he’s twitching. He can’t decide if this is the best dream or his worst nightmare, as takes deep breaths and tries not to throw up.
“Hey, Jimin...hyung, right?”
Jimin freezes. Jeongguk is talking. To him. His stomach does flips at the hesitant way Jeongguk says “hyung.” “Y-yeah,” he says. “J-jeong-g-guk?”
“Yup,” Jeongguk says. He’s already packed up, and his fingers fiddled at his clarinet case handle. “About the duet, I’m okay with the piece, but you’ll probably have a hard time so I’ll help you with your part.”
Jimin blinks, wondering if Jeongguk is insulting him. He frowns. “No way, I’ll be fine,” he says a little too quickly.
Jeongguk purses his lips and shrugs. “Alright then hyung, good luck!” He waves goodbye with a quick flick of those fingers Jimin always admired, and darts away.
It takes Jimin a while to comprehend the weird twisty feeling in his gut. Jeongguk had talked to him for the first time. Jeongguk had looked down on his bassoon skills. But he had offered to help Jimin one-on-one in the same breath. And Jimin had refused.
Jimin smacks his forehead on his music stand, causing all his music to fall on the floor. That was not the impression he had wanted to make on Jeon Jeongguk. He shakes his head to break out of his daze and bends down to gather his sheet music. As he picks of each sheet, his discontentment grows deeper. What in the world was he doing wasting all his admiration on that stupid arrogant kid?
By the time Jimin finishes packing up, he’s on fire with determination. He’s going to prove Jeon Jeongguk wrong if it’s the last thing he does.
“What’s got your undies in a knot?”
“Hm?” Jimin looks up from his sandwich to his best friend. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re chewing so furiously I’m scared for your jaw muscles,” Taehyung says. He pokes Jimin in the cheek. “What’ll I do if you lose all your baby fat?”
Jimin blows up his cheeks like a pufferfish. “I wish,” he says. “It’s this stupid kid in orchestra.”
“Oh really?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “This wouldn’t happen to be the kid you have been making eyes at all semester is it?”
“What eyes?” Jimin wants to smack the bagel out of Taehyung’s hands. “I haven’t been making any eyes. No such thing.”
“Are you sure you don’t remember? That one kid you’re practically drooling over?” Taehyung says it in the Taehyung way, completely deadpan.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Jimin says, because it’s always a gamble whether Taehyung knows what he’s talking about or just bluffing.
Taehyung props both elbows on the cafeteria table and strokes a nonexistent beard. “I seem to recall you tripping over a tallish first year with nice muscles and a cute face,” he says. “What was his name? Jongseok? Jeonghoon?” He fixes Jimin with a devilish grin, and Jimin knows he’s been caught. “Oh I remember, Jeongguk. If you’re sure it’s not him, I might go after him, you know.”
A million different sounds try to come out of Jimin’s mouth at once. “As your friend I have to stop you, he’s so full of himself.”
“Aha, so it was him!” Taehyung says.
Jimin throws a crumb at him. “You’re the worst.”
Taehyung nods sagely. “That’s why I’m your best friend.”
“The worst!” Jimin laments, throwing some more crumbs at his supposed best friend. He has to admit that Taehyung did put him out of his foul mood. It’s not like it matters all that much. He’s already made his decision. The only satisfactory response was to figure out the music and show Jeongguk he could do it.
Easier said than done, Jimin thinks as he stares at the mass of notes on the page in front of him. He can’t figure out how to the rhythm went, and which notes to play on which beats. After a half hour of beating his head against the wall, it still doesn’t sound anything like the recording Director Song played for them. Maybe Jeongguk was right, objectively speaking. Jimin needs help.
He needs help, but it’s not like he can just go up to Jeongguk, laugh it off, and say never mind about his refusal, right?
He frowned and ignored his growling stomach. He needed to get this right.
At the next practice, Jimin does his best to not look over at Jeongguk. Despite his best efforts, he can’t block out the gorgeous, impeccable sound of Jeongguk’s clarinet.
Jeongguk catches his eye once and a smirk pulls at one corner of his lips, and Jimin turns away, staring at his music like he’s actually concentrating on it, cheeks burning. Unfair, unfair, unfair. It’ll take all his willpower to get through this semester without thinking a single thought admiring of Jeongguk.
When practice is finally over, Jimin packs his bassoon and music as quickly as possible in order to escape any possibility of awkward confrontation or meeting of eyes.
“Hyung!”
Jimin turns around, and Jeongguk is running after him. He considers running away, but Jeongguk is there before he can make a decision. He waits a moment for Jeongguk to catch his breath. “What’s up?” he says. Hey, it came out normally this time.
“I didn’t mean to say you couldn’t play the duet last time,” Jeongguk says in one breath. He considers for a bit, chewing his lip. “I guess I should apologize.”
It doesn’t matter that it only counts as half an apology, Jimin feels his innards do a flip as the heavy weight inside him lifts. “It’s okay, you weren’t wrong.”
Jeongguk cocks his head and flashes a sweet smile that makes Jimin feel like he’s going to turn inside out. “Either way, we should practice syncing up our parts, when are you free?”
“Anytime.” For you, Jimin thinks before mentally slapping himself upside the head. “I mean, not any time but I’m pretty free. Like today. I’m free today after school.” He wants to slap himself upside the head for real. Why does he have to ramble so much when he’s nervous?
Jeongguk scratches his wrist and bites his lip again, apologetic. “I’ve got private lessons today, how about tomorrow?”
Jimin’s heart, which had sunk a little, lifts again. He nods, too enthusiastically. “Tomorrow’s perfect.”
“Great, see you hyung!” Jeongguk says, and leaves Jimin standing in the hall alone and dazed, going through another internal explosion of feelings.
“You’re looking like you just won the lottery.”
Jimin’s hands go immediately to his cheeks. They hurt, so he must have been smiling like a fool, which is perfect bait for a bored Taehyung. “If only.”
“Something good happen with Jeongguk?” Taehyung asks, looking slightly amused.
“It’s nothing,” Jimin says. “Why am I not allowed to be happy?”
“You’re easier to read than a book,” Taehyung says flatly.
Jimin makes a face. “We’re just practicing our duet.”
Taehyung slams his palms on the table and leans forward, locking his eyes with Jimin’s. “You guys are playing a duet? Why didn’t you tell me this development sooner?”
“It was unnecessary information,” Jimin says, frowning. “And we’re just practicing.”
“Alone.” Taehyung writhes in his seat and pulls at his hair. “Together.”
“Stop being such a drama queen,” Jimin says as Taehyung slides down so far he disappears underneath the table.
Taehyung sits back in his seat. “I guess being cute is your only hope,” he says, patting Jimin on the shoulder.
He shouldn’t let Taehyung influence him, but he can’t help but feel excited at Taehyung’s words. Alone together. Together. Alone. He lets Taehyung do the rest of the talking, since he’s too distracted by his nervous energy.
Jimin is restless all through rehearsal the next day, unable to sit still and pay attention to what he’s playing. He still can’t look over at Jeongguk, but for an entirely different reason this time.
After practice, Jeongguk says, “See you later, hyung!” and Jimin feels so buoyant he could float away.
When they meet in the band room, Jeongguk takes Jimin to one of the small practice rooms in the back that Jimin never knew existed. There is barely enough room for two chairs, and they share a stand.
Jimin sits down next to Jeongguk, as always, but in the close quarter of the practice room, they are much closer than usual. Jimin feels the hair on his arms stand up. They’re so close he can feel Jeongguk’s body warmth radiating from him in the air between them. Taehyung was right, they were definitely very together and very alone. It seemed like a much better idea in his head when he didn’t feel so nervous he couldn’t breathe. He sucks his elbows in and sits up rigidly to avoid accidentally closing that gap between them.
Jeongguk, however, doesn’t seem to care and he relaxes in his seat, feet planted firmly with his knees apart and invading into Jimin’s space, elbows at a perfect, non-space-preserving angle. “Let’s do some scales,” he says, not even noticing Jimin’s efforts to avoid brushing arms. “You go first. We’re in B flat minor, so do that one, go one note above, then go back down.”
It surprises Jimin that they’re starting with scales, even when they’re not in rehearsal. Jimin always goes straight into the music. That’s the difference between us, Jimin thinks. He starts playing. He doesn’t expect Jeongguk to jump in right after him. On the third note, Jeongguk starts playing the scale from the beginning, surprising Jimin so much he almost stops.
They play in a harmony of thirds, and their sound matches so well Jimin forgets Jeongguk’s initial instructions. At the top of the scale, he doesn’t play a note above and suddenly they’re in discord, but the next beat Jeongguk adjusts and they’re back in harmony.
It’s just a scale and Jimin is already overwhelmed by how musically talented Jeongguk is. It’s the most unfair thing.
“Okay hyung, let’s try this,” Jeongguk says, seemingly satisfied despite Jimin flubbing his instructions. “I’ll follow you."
Jimin nods and starts to play, counting out the beat carefully in his head. He knows it’s a lot slower than it’s supposed to be, but Jeongguk plays his part at the same tempo, adjusting to Jimin’s pace.
Jimin knows he makes a lot of mistakes, but Jeongguk always finds where Jimin is lost, and keeps up.
“That’s a dotted note, you missed a beat,” Jeongguk starts as soon as they play through it once. “These are triplets, not eighths, you have to feel them. Think tri-pul-et.”
Jimin nods as Jeongguk marks up his music. He tries to absorb everything that Jeongguk is teaching him, but it’s too fast. Plus, Jeongguk’s animated gestures make all Jimin’s efforts at taking up less space futile and he keeps brushing up against Jimin’s side.
“Got that?” Jeongguk asks when he finishes.
Jimin winces. “Maybe.”
Jeongguk blinks at him, then smiles. “It’s okay, we’ll go through it slowly.”
The rest of the hour goes quickly as Jeongguk painstakingly goes through everything Jimin has trouble with. He helps Jimin clap out the difficult rhythms and gives him tips on how to practice long, fast runs. The last time they run through it together in that hour, Jimin can finally hear what it’s supposed to sound like.
“Jeongguk,” Jimin says, and somehow it feels embarrassing to say his name like that. Jeongguk didn’t seem to notice anything off and turned towards Jimin, bright expression expectant and waiting. It unnerves Jimin, but he says what he wants to. “Thanks.”
Jeongguk’s eyes squint as he smiles. He reaches over and pats Jimin on the head, ruffling his hair. “You did well.”
Jimin glubs like a fish out of water for a good second before he swats Jeongguk’s hand away. “Respect your hyung!” he says, trying to hide the fact that his face is burning.
Jeongguk laughs at that, which makes Jimin unreasonably proud. “Of course, the reason you did well is cause I’m a great teacher,” he says, and nimbly dodges another one of Jimin’s swats.
When Jeongguk leaves, he leaves Jimin with a warm, tickly feeling inside.
“Spill everything,” Taehyung says as soon as they sit down.
“What is there to spill?” Jimin says. He takes a bottle out of his lunch box. “Juice?”
Taehyung flicks Jimin’s forehead when he laughs at his own joke. “Your hot practice date.”
“Ouch” Jimin says, rubbing at his forehead. “Only one of those words is accurate.”
“Date?”
“Practice,” Jimin says emphatically. Stupid Taehyung. “That’s all, we practiced.”
“What, kissing?” Taehyung says, holding Jimin’s face in his hands and leaning in, his lips puckered like a fish.
“Bassoon, Taehyung, bassoon.” Jimin shoves Taehyung’s mouth away with his palm. “You know, a woodwind instrument that I happen to play in our orchestra.”
“Boo,” Taehyung says. He pouts. “You are hopeless, as expected.”
Jimin shakes his head. Taehyung’s expectations weren’t even at the earthly level.
“Oh, but did you at least get some snuggly cuddly action?” Taehyung asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
Jimin blushes a little, thinking of his slow acclimation to Jeongguk’s stray touches. “No,” he says, but apparently Taehyung is satisfied with his reaction and eats the rest of his lunch in a state of bliss.
During the subsequent practices with the orchestra and the private ones with Jeongguk, Jimin starts talking to Jeongguk more naturally, and he would even dare to call Jeongguk a friend.
“Flutes, you’re going sharp again,” Jeongguk says under his breath, a second before Director Song says the same exact thing, and for some reason it’s the funniest thing in the world and Jimin erupts into giggles.
“Jeongguk, Jimin, do I have to separate you two?” Director Song interrupts their laughter, and Jimin realizes how loud they were being.
“No, sir,” Jimin says, pursing his lips, properly chastised. “Sorry.”
“Well, seeing as you’re getting along so well,” Director Song says, a gleam in his eye. “Let’s see if your solos are as good. Class, take out the clarinet and bassoon duet.”
Jimin catches Jeongguk’s eye and Jeongguk flashes a thumbs up. Just like we practiced, Jimin thinks.
The piece starts out with just the two of them, so the entire class listens to them play. Before, Jimin might have done something embarrassing like squeaking, but he feels comfortable playing with Jeongguk like they reviewed so many times in their sessions.
They perform it so well, the class forgets they have to come in after the solo part and Director Song has them restart.
“I’m glad to see you practice as much as you talk, at least,” Director Song says, causing the entire class to laugh, and the two share a grin.
Orchestra is a lot more interesting for Jimin lately.
“I don’t think we need to practice together today,” Jeongguk says after class, a week before their concert. The song is coming along, which means they don’t have to practice as much.
It makes Jimin sad that he won’t get to hang out with Jeongguk. “Are you sure? I might still have problems matching up with you during the run on page four…”
“Nah, you’re good,” Jeongguk says. “Cause you had the best teacher.”
“True,” Jimin says, trying to smile in spite of his disappointment.
“So you should treat your teacher for being so helpful,” Jeongguk says, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Since you have free time now.”
“Huh?” Jimin says, his mind blanking out.
“There’s a bossam place near here that I always wanted to try, let’s go there after school.”
Jeongguk leaves before getting a confirmation from Jimin, who is too busy trying to figure out if he was just asked out on a date.
“Yes,” Taehyung, self proclaimed love guru, says when Jimin tells him—voluntarily!—what had happened. “102% a date.”
“What’s with the extra 2%?”
“Think about it, he wants to hang out with you even when he doesn’t have to,” Taehyung says, completely ignoring Jimin’s question. “And if he’s making you pay then that means there will be a next time so he can pay for it, and then a next time cause you’ll feel bad about him paying, and a next…”
Jimin zones out as Taehyung rambles. Trusting Taehyung is always a gamble, but Jimin wants Taehyung to be right.
“...and then you’ll get married and have tiny Jimins and Jeongguks running around and you’ll live happily ever after,” Taehyung finishes, taking a gasp of air.
It got really weird towards the end, but ignoring that, Taehyung actually made some sense. Against his better judgment, Jimin lets himself hope a little.
Seeing Jeongguk outside of practice is weird, Jimin thinks. All Jimin sees of Jeongguk during the school day is a handsome, talented clarinetist, but the Jeongguk sitting across from him is so much more. He talks about video games and internet memes and the manga that he’s reading, and Jimin sees him outside the context of orchestra.
“I’m taking singing lessons,” Jeongguk says when Jimin asks what private lessons he went to every week.
“Wait, those weren’t clarinet lessons?” Jimin asks, surprised.
“I want to be a singer,” Jeongguk says. “Clarinet is just for fun, it helps with my ear.”
Jimin looks at Jeongguk like he’s grown another head. “But you’re so good.”
Jeongguk shrugs. “I have a knack for hands-on things.”
Jimin despairs for a second about how much work he puts into playing bassoon, when he remembers that he can sing too. “Oh yeah, I was in chorus as a first year,” he said.
“Why aren’t you there now?” Jeongguk asks. He seems genuinely surprised.
“They put me in the alto section. I was the only male.” Jimin doesn’t know why he’s telling Jeongguk something so embarrassing about himself, but he has a weird feeling of not wanting to hide anything from Jeongguk. “And there were more girls than guys so there were girls in the tenor section.”
Jeongguk starts laughing and laughs so hard he has trouble breathing. “You do have a really cute high voice, hyung, cuter and higher than some girls’.”
“I don’t want to be told that,” Jimin whines. But somehow it makes him feel fuzzy inside. Maybe if it’s Jeongguk who says that it might be okay.
When Jeongguk recovers from his fit of laughter, he wipes his eyes and sighs. “You know those people who do Youtube covers? We should make one one of these days.”
“Yeah, that’d be cool,” Jimin says, beaming. That means more time to hang out with Jeongguk, which in his experience ha never been a bad thing.
“So when are you gonna make a move?” Taehyung asks the next day at lunch.
“I don’t think that’s an option,” Jimin says, poking at his mac and cheese with his fork.
Taehyung sighs loudly. “It’s the only option, you realize we’re graduating this month?”
Jimin nods. He’s thought about this before, but not for long. It’s not something he likes to think about.
“So get a move on, man!” Taehyung says.
“Okay,” Jimin says, if only to placate Taehyung. He doesn’t even know what getting a move on looks like, much less how to do it.
The day of the final performance arrives much more quickly than Jimin expects. Time always passes more quickly the more Jimin wants it to last. Jimin doesn’t want it to ever be over. If they perform the song, it’ll be over, no more impromptu lessons in the cozy practice room, no more laughing over Director Song’s strange mannerisms in class. Jimin is graduating soon and he has to leave before he has any chance to let anything happen with Jeongguk.
They’re in their dress clothes, neat white button ups and pressed black slacks. Jeongguk looks good in it; he looks good in everything. He looks over and smiles his scrunchy eyed, toothy smile, and Jimin returns it weakly.
“Are you okay, hyung?” Jeongguk asks, immediately picking up that something was wrong with Jimin.
“Just nervous,” Jimin says, trying to laugh it off.
Jeongguk looks like he’s not going to say anything and he looks away. “This is your last concert, huh,” he says quietly, so quietly Jimin wonders if he imagined it.
Jimin nods. He looks down at his hands, which are gripping the fabric of his slacks tightly. He looks back up to see Jeongguk staring intently at him, and he is seized by an impulsive desire. “I’m sad I won’t get to see you anymore,” Jimin says before he thinks he might regret saying it.
Jeongguk blinks and then he’s grinning widely. “Who says you won’t see me anymore? You think you can get rid of me just by graduating?” He leans in and his lips brush against Jimin’s ear, sending shivers down Jimin’s spine. “I like you, hyung, I’m not going anywhere.”
All the hairs stand up on Jimin’s neck and arms as a bolt of electricity shoots through him. He stares at Jeongguk, who has returned to oiling his clarinet and putting the pieces together, wetting a reed in his mouth as if nothing happened.
He turns back to his own bassoon and prepares it with his head ducked down. He hopes nobody is looking at him, his face is so warm he can feel the heat of it radiating all the way to Jeongguk. What did that mean?
Judging by the way he is restless with giddiness, it was probably something good. Jimin feels his cheeks bunch up trying not to smile and he massages them so they don’t cramp up on stage.
Jimin loves orchestral performances. After all the time spent during rehearsal, the final performance is the culmination of every single person’s effort. They sound good, and Jimin is always excited to show off their hard work to the audience, which is made up of mostly their parents, but their audience nonetheless.
When the orchestra is getting on stage, he immediately sees Taehyung jumping up and down in the front aisle, waving his arms. Taehyung had somehow convinced a hyung he knew to lend him a semi-professional DSLR, and he’d volunteered as the concert’s official photographer.
Jimin debates for a second whether he should wave back to Taehyung or pretend not to know him, but he’s in a good mood, so he returns Taehyung’s enthusiastic wave.
Taehyung stops waving, catches Jimin’s gaze, and wiggles his eyebrows in a knowing way. Jimin shakes his head. Taehyung sticks out his tongue, and to Jimin’s surprise, Jeongguk stifles a giggle behind him. Jimin blushes furiously again, maybe he shouldn’t have waved back to Taehyung. He hopes his fire engine red blush can be attributed to the burning stage lights.
The orchestra takes a seat when Director Song signals them to sit, and they start tuning their instruments.
The first few songs flow by quickly, and before Jimin can react, he and Jeongguk are up. As Director Song introduces the piece, Jimin rubs a sweaty palm against his pants leg nervously when he feels a reassuring touch on his back. He looks up, and Jeongguk smiles at him before squeezing his shoulder.
Jimin nods, and he smiles back before lifting his bassoon back up to his mouth. He watches for Director Song’s cue and imagines himself back in the small practice room with only one stand, and matching his harmony perfectly with Jeongguk’s melody.
Jimin is so into the music that it is over before he knows it. When Director Song waves his hand to signal the end of the last drawn out note, he pauses and maintains his pose for a moment, and then Director Song’s hands drop and Jimin relaxes as the audience breaks out into applause.
He finds Jeongguk’s gaze first. Jeongguk’s eyes are shining with pride, and they both turn to Director Song, who silently claps for them as well. He has them stand up, just the two of them, and they receive the audience’s extended applause.
The rest of the concert, Jimin is on a high from performing the solo just as well or better than he did in practice. He has fun on the stage, which is why he always loves the semester end concerts.
Afterwards, they have a reception in the cafeteria with snacks and drinks. Jimin loses sight of Jeongguk in the crowd, but he’s too busy receiving compliments from his classmates and their parents to look for him. Everybody loved the duet, and Jimin bashfully thanks everyone for their kind praises.
“Hey, can I borrow you for a minute?”
It’s Taehyung. “Yeah, sure,” Jimin says, and smiles apologetically to the parent he was talking to before letting Taehyung drag him away. “What’s up?”
“Something really important, but it’s too loud here for me to remember.” Taehyung leads Jimin out of the crowd into the hallways. He stops in front of a bathroom. “Oh yeah, I need to get something,” he says, going into the bathroom. “Don’t forget we’re graduating soon!”
“What do you need to get inside a bathroom?” Jimin shouts after him, before sighing and leaning against the wall. He doesn’t get Taehyung half of the time, and this is one of those times.
“Oh hyung, you’re here.”
Jimin nearly falls over as Jeongguk rounds the corner. Smooth. “H-h-hey, you going to the bathroom?” Even smoother.
It seems Jeongguk doesn't notice Jimin's supreme failure at acting normal and he joins Jimin, pressing his back against the tiles of the hallway wall. “You did an awesome job,” he says, patting Jimin on the head. “You’ve made your teacher proud.”
“You were better,” Jimin says. His heart is hammering in his throat, he doesn’t even know how words were able to come out of him.
“But together we were the best,” Jeongguk says, grinning. “Anyway, Taehyung hyung said you had something to tell me.”
Jimin stares blankly at Jeongguk before Taehyung’s last words clicked. That stupid Taehyung. He isn’t prepared for this, which is probably better or else he might throw up. “You know what you said before we went on stage?”
Jeongguk nods.
Jimin takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. “Ilikeyoutoowillyougooutwithme?” rushes out like an exhale. And then Jimin realizes what he’s done and claps a hand over his mouth. He wants to shrink and turn into one of the speckles on the floor, but he holds his ground and ventures a peek at Jeongguk.
Jeongguk grins and ruffles Jimin’s hair again. “Finally.”
“Huh?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to realize,” Jeongguk says, and holds out a hand. “Let’s get back to the food.”
“Is that a yes?” Jimin says, the same moment he realizes Jeongguk’s proffered hand is for him. He takes it, unable to stop smiling.
“Yes,” Jeongguk says, interlacing their fingers together and pulling him back towards the cafeteria.
There may not be a lot of time left at school, but they’ll both be around town. Jimin squeezes Jeongguk’s hand. This isn’t an ending, it’s a new beginning.
(“I can’t believe you had it in you to ask him out before I finished taking a dump,” Taehyung says when he finds them later. “Way to leave me behind.”
Jimin and Jeongguk share a glance and then they burst out laughing.
“Stop getting along so well,” Taehyung complains.
“Thanks to you,” Jimin says with an innocent smile and a hug. It doesn’t placate Taehyung, but when Jimin checks, Taehyung has a giant grin on his face.)
Jimin/Jungkook
5114 words ; pg-13
It's just that Jeon Jeongguk looks so nice holding a clarinet with those long, pretty fingers. And he's kind of really adorable. Otherwise bassoonist Jimin would never be happy about having to play a duet with that arrogant kid. (Taehyung is not helpful. At all.)
Jimin has a problem. That problem is Jeon Jeongguk, the cute first year clarinetist who sits next to him in advanced orchestra. Jimin is the only bassoonist, otherwise there’s no way he’d be in the first bassoonist seat. Jimin's only in advanced orchestra because he's a third year, a senior.
Jeongguk, on the other hand, not only placed into advanced orchestra, but Director Song also put him in the principle seat. He was the fastest at learning all the pieces, even though it seemed like he was always goofing off. Jimin worked as hard as he could, but it took him much longer, plus practice outside of rehearsals, to get anywhere close to Jeongguk's level. He consoles himself with the fact that his strength is actually singing. He had chosen orchestra over chorus so he could avoid the inevitable embarrassment of being put in the girls’ section for his high voice.
At any rate, it's unfair how effortlessly Jeongguk picks things up. It’s even more unfair how Jeongguk looks so nice holding his clarinet between his long, pretty fingers. Jimin doesn't like having to sit next to Jeongguk and being perpetually reminded of the fact that his fingers are chubbier and don't look nearly as elegant as Jeongguk's.
And most unfair of all is how cute Jeongguk is, perpetually curious and bright-eyed and smiling. No matter how groggy Jimin gets during practice, Jeongguk's always sitting straight up, paying attention to Director Song, ready to take on the world. It's a bit much, really, but when Jeongguk looks over and grins so hard at Jimin his eyes turn into little squints, just because a piece is finally coming together, Jimin can't help but grin back. Jeongguk's enthusiasm is infectious.
One day, Director Song pulls out a new piece and plays it for them. This is Jimin's second favorite part of learning a song (after actually playing it). It starts out beautifully, like all orchestral pieces, and Jimin jolts in surprise when the unmistakable clear woody sound of a clarinet rises to the foreground. He is even more surprised when the even more familiar sound of a whimsical bassoon answers in reply.
"If you couldn't tell, this is a duet for a clarinet and a bassoon," Director Song says when they've listened through the full piece. "Jimin will play the bassoon part and Jeongguk will play the clarinet. Make sure you practice outside of rehearsal."
Jeongguk nods and smiles widely at Director Song when he passes over the music. Jimin is less sure. It takes him a while to process. Their orchestra’s playing a clarinet and bassoon duet. Jeongguk’s playing the clarinet. Jimin’s playing the bassoon. Jimin gets to do a duet with Jeongguk.
As Jimin takes the sheet music from Director Song, with trembling hands, Jeongguk looks over and flashes another grin. Jimin returns it, hoping he doesn’t look like he’s twitching. He can’t decide if this is the best dream or his worst nightmare, as takes deep breaths and tries not to throw up.
“Hey, Jimin...hyung, right?”
Jimin freezes. Jeongguk is talking. To him. His stomach does flips at the hesitant way Jeongguk says “hyung.” “Y-yeah,” he says. “J-jeong-g-guk?”
“Yup,” Jeongguk says. He’s already packed up, and his fingers fiddled at his clarinet case handle. “About the duet, I’m okay with the piece, but you’ll probably have a hard time so I’ll help you with your part.”
Jimin blinks, wondering if Jeongguk is insulting him. He frowns. “No way, I’ll be fine,” he says a little too quickly.
Jeongguk purses his lips and shrugs. “Alright then hyung, good luck!” He waves goodbye with a quick flick of those fingers Jimin always admired, and darts away.
It takes Jimin a while to comprehend the weird twisty feeling in his gut. Jeongguk had talked to him for the first time. Jeongguk had looked down on his bassoon skills. But he had offered to help Jimin one-on-one in the same breath. And Jimin had refused.
Jimin smacks his forehead on his music stand, causing all his music to fall on the floor. That was not the impression he had wanted to make on Jeon Jeongguk. He shakes his head to break out of his daze and bends down to gather his sheet music. As he picks of each sheet, his discontentment grows deeper. What in the world was he doing wasting all his admiration on that stupid arrogant kid?
By the time Jimin finishes packing up, he’s on fire with determination. He’s going to prove Jeon Jeongguk wrong if it’s the last thing he does.
“What’s got your undies in a knot?”
“Hm?” Jimin looks up from his sandwich to his best friend. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re chewing so furiously I’m scared for your jaw muscles,” Taehyung says. He pokes Jimin in the cheek. “What’ll I do if you lose all your baby fat?”
Jimin blows up his cheeks like a pufferfish. “I wish,” he says. “It’s this stupid kid in orchestra.”
“Oh really?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “This wouldn’t happen to be the kid you have been making eyes at all semester is it?”
“What eyes?” Jimin wants to smack the bagel out of Taehyung’s hands. “I haven’t been making any eyes. No such thing.”
“Are you sure you don’t remember? That one kid you’re practically drooling over?” Taehyung says it in the Taehyung way, completely deadpan.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Jimin says, because it’s always a gamble whether Taehyung knows what he’s talking about or just bluffing.
Taehyung props both elbows on the cafeteria table and strokes a nonexistent beard. “I seem to recall you tripping over a tallish first year with nice muscles and a cute face,” he says. “What was his name? Jongseok? Jeonghoon?” He fixes Jimin with a devilish grin, and Jimin knows he’s been caught. “Oh I remember, Jeongguk. If you’re sure it’s not him, I might go after him, you know.”
A million different sounds try to come out of Jimin’s mouth at once. “As your friend I have to stop you, he’s so full of himself.”
“Aha, so it was him!” Taehyung says.
Jimin throws a crumb at him. “You’re the worst.”
Taehyung nods sagely. “That’s why I’m your best friend.”
“The worst!” Jimin laments, throwing some more crumbs at his supposed best friend. He has to admit that Taehyung did put him out of his foul mood. It’s not like it matters all that much. He’s already made his decision. The only satisfactory response was to figure out the music and show Jeongguk he could do it.
Easier said than done, Jimin thinks as he stares at the mass of notes on the page in front of him. He can’t figure out how to the rhythm went, and which notes to play on which beats. After a half hour of beating his head against the wall, it still doesn’t sound anything like the recording Director Song played for them. Maybe Jeongguk was right, objectively speaking. Jimin needs help.
He needs help, but it’s not like he can just go up to Jeongguk, laugh it off, and say never mind about his refusal, right?
He frowned and ignored his growling stomach. He needed to get this right.
At the next practice, Jimin does his best to not look over at Jeongguk. Despite his best efforts, he can’t block out the gorgeous, impeccable sound of Jeongguk’s clarinet.
Jeongguk catches his eye once and a smirk pulls at one corner of his lips, and Jimin turns away, staring at his music like he’s actually concentrating on it, cheeks burning. Unfair, unfair, unfair. It’ll take all his willpower to get through this semester without thinking a single thought admiring of Jeongguk.
When practice is finally over, Jimin packs his bassoon and music as quickly as possible in order to escape any possibility of awkward confrontation or meeting of eyes.
“Hyung!”
Jimin turns around, and Jeongguk is running after him. He considers running away, but Jeongguk is there before he can make a decision. He waits a moment for Jeongguk to catch his breath. “What’s up?” he says. Hey, it came out normally this time.
“I didn’t mean to say you couldn’t play the duet last time,” Jeongguk says in one breath. He considers for a bit, chewing his lip. “I guess I should apologize.”
It doesn’t matter that it only counts as half an apology, Jimin feels his innards do a flip as the heavy weight inside him lifts. “It’s okay, you weren’t wrong.”
Jeongguk cocks his head and flashes a sweet smile that makes Jimin feel like he’s going to turn inside out. “Either way, we should practice syncing up our parts, when are you free?”
“Anytime.” For you, Jimin thinks before mentally slapping himself upside the head. “I mean, not any time but I’m pretty free. Like today. I’m free today after school.” He wants to slap himself upside the head for real. Why does he have to ramble so much when he’s nervous?
Jeongguk scratches his wrist and bites his lip again, apologetic. “I’ve got private lessons today, how about tomorrow?”
Jimin’s heart, which had sunk a little, lifts again. He nods, too enthusiastically. “Tomorrow’s perfect.”
“Great, see you hyung!” Jeongguk says, and leaves Jimin standing in the hall alone and dazed, going through another internal explosion of feelings.
“You’re looking like you just won the lottery.”
Jimin’s hands go immediately to his cheeks. They hurt, so he must have been smiling like a fool, which is perfect bait for a bored Taehyung. “If only.”
“Something good happen with Jeongguk?” Taehyung asks, looking slightly amused.
“It’s nothing,” Jimin says. “Why am I not allowed to be happy?”
“You’re easier to read than a book,” Taehyung says flatly.
Jimin makes a face. “We’re just practicing our duet.”
Taehyung slams his palms on the table and leans forward, locking his eyes with Jimin’s. “You guys are playing a duet? Why didn’t you tell me this development sooner?”
“It was unnecessary information,” Jimin says, frowning. “And we’re just practicing.”
“Alone.” Taehyung writhes in his seat and pulls at his hair. “Together.”
“Stop being such a drama queen,” Jimin says as Taehyung slides down so far he disappears underneath the table.
Taehyung sits back in his seat. “I guess being cute is your only hope,” he says, patting Jimin on the shoulder.
He shouldn’t let Taehyung influence him, but he can’t help but feel excited at Taehyung’s words. Alone together. Together. Alone. He lets Taehyung do the rest of the talking, since he’s too distracted by his nervous energy.
Jimin is restless all through rehearsal the next day, unable to sit still and pay attention to what he’s playing. He still can’t look over at Jeongguk, but for an entirely different reason this time.
After practice, Jeongguk says, “See you later, hyung!” and Jimin feels so buoyant he could float away.
When they meet in the band room, Jeongguk takes Jimin to one of the small practice rooms in the back that Jimin never knew existed. There is barely enough room for two chairs, and they share a stand.
Jimin sits down next to Jeongguk, as always, but in the close quarter of the practice room, they are much closer than usual. Jimin feels the hair on his arms stand up. They’re so close he can feel Jeongguk’s body warmth radiating from him in the air between them. Taehyung was right, they were definitely very together and very alone. It seemed like a much better idea in his head when he didn’t feel so nervous he couldn’t breathe. He sucks his elbows in and sits up rigidly to avoid accidentally closing that gap between them.
Jeongguk, however, doesn’t seem to care and he relaxes in his seat, feet planted firmly with his knees apart and invading into Jimin’s space, elbows at a perfect, non-space-preserving angle. “Let’s do some scales,” he says, not even noticing Jimin’s efforts to avoid brushing arms. “You go first. We’re in B flat minor, so do that one, go one note above, then go back down.”
It surprises Jimin that they’re starting with scales, even when they’re not in rehearsal. Jimin always goes straight into the music. That’s the difference between us, Jimin thinks. He starts playing. He doesn’t expect Jeongguk to jump in right after him. On the third note, Jeongguk starts playing the scale from the beginning, surprising Jimin so much he almost stops.
They play in a harmony of thirds, and their sound matches so well Jimin forgets Jeongguk’s initial instructions. At the top of the scale, he doesn’t play a note above and suddenly they’re in discord, but the next beat Jeongguk adjusts and they’re back in harmony.
It’s just a scale and Jimin is already overwhelmed by how musically talented Jeongguk is. It’s the most unfair thing.
“Okay hyung, let’s try this,” Jeongguk says, seemingly satisfied despite Jimin flubbing his instructions. “I’ll follow you."
Jimin nods and starts to play, counting out the beat carefully in his head. He knows it’s a lot slower than it’s supposed to be, but Jeongguk plays his part at the same tempo, adjusting to Jimin’s pace.
Jimin knows he makes a lot of mistakes, but Jeongguk always finds where Jimin is lost, and keeps up.
“That’s a dotted note, you missed a beat,” Jeongguk starts as soon as they play through it once. “These are triplets, not eighths, you have to feel them. Think tri-pul-et.”
Jimin nods as Jeongguk marks up his music. He tries to absorb everything that Jeongguk is teaching him, but it’s too fast. Plus, Jeongguk’s animated gestures make all Jimin’s efforts at taking up less space futile and he keeps brushing up against Jimin’s side.
“Got that?” Jeongguk asks when he finishes.
Jimin winces. “Maybe.”
Jeongguk blinks at him, then smiles. “It’s okay, we’ll go through it slowly.”
The rest of the hour goes quickly as Jeongguk painstakingly goes through everything Jimin has trouble with. He helps Jimin clap out the difficult rhythms and gives him tips on how to practice long, fast runs. The last time they run through it together in that hour, Jimin can finally hear what it’s supposed to sound like.
“Jeongguk,” Jimin says, and somehow it feels embarrassing to say his name like that. Jeongguk didn’t seem to notice anything off and turned towards Jimin, bright expression expectant and waiting. It unnerves Jimin, but he says what he wants to. “Thanks.”
Jeongguk’s eyes squint as he smiles. He reaches over and pats Jimin on the head, ruffling his hair. “You did well.”
Jimin glubs like a fish out of water for a good second before he swats Jeongguk’s hand away. “Respect your hyung!” he says, trying to hide the fact that his face is burning.
Jeongguk laughs at that, which makes Jimin unreasonably proud. “Of course, the reason you did well is cause I’m a great teacher,” he says, and nimbly dodges another one of Jimin’s swats.
When Jeongguk leaves, he leaves Jimin with a warm, tickly feeling inside.
“Spill everything,” Taehyung says as soon as they sit down.
“What is there to spill?” Jimin says. He takes a bottle out of his lunch box. “Juice?”
Taehyung flicks Jimin’s forehead when he laughs at his own joke. “Your hot practice date.”
“Ouch” Jimin says, rubbing at his forehead. “Only one of those words is accurate.”
“Date?”
“Practice,” Jimin says emphatically. Stupid Taehyung. “That’s all, we practiced.”
“What, kissing?” Taehyung says, holding Jimin’s face in his hands and leaning in, his lips puckered like a fish.
“Bassoon, Taehyung, bassoon.” Jimin shoves Taehyung’s mouth away with his palm. “You know, a woodwind instrument that I happen to play in our orchestra.”
“Boo,” Taehyung says. He pouts. “You are hopeless, as expected.”
Jimin shakes his head. Taehyung’s expectations weren’t even at the earthly level.
“Oh, but did you at least get some snuggly cuddly action?” Taehyung asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
Jimin blushes a little, thinking of his slow acclimation to Jeongguk’s stray touches. “No,” he says, but apparently Taehyung is satisfied with his reaction and eats the rest of his lunch in a state of bliss.
During the subsequent practices with the orchestra and the private ones with Jeongguk, Jimin starts talking to Jeongguk more naturally, and he would even dare to call Jeongguk a friend.
“Flutes, you’re going sharp again,” Jeongguk says under his breath, a second before Director Song says the same exact thing, and for some reason it’s the funniest thing in the world and Jimin erupts into giggles.
“Jeongguk, Jimin, do I have to separate you two?” Director Song interrupts their laughter, and Jimin realizes how loud they were being.
“No, sir,” Jimin says, pursing his lips, properly chastised. “Sorry.”
“Well, seeing as you’re getting along so well,” Director Song says, a gleam in his eye. “Let’s see if your solos are as good. Class, take out the clarinet and bassoon duet.”
Jimin catches Jeongguk’s eye and Jeongguk flashes a thumbs up. Just like we practiced, Jimin thinks.
The piece starts out with just the two of them, so the entire class listens to them play. Before, Jimin might have done something embarrassing like squeaking, but he feels comfortable playing with Jeongguk like they reviewed so many times in their sessions.
They perform it so well, the class forgets they have to come in after the solo part and Director Song has them restart.
“I’m glad to see you practice as much as you talk, at least,” Director Song says, causing the entire class to laugh, and the two share a grin.
Orchestra is a lot more interesting for Jimin lately.
“I don’t think we need to practice together today,” Jeongguk says after class, a week before their concert. The song is coming along, which means they don’t have to practice as much.
It makes Jimin sad that he won’t get to hang out with Jeongguk. “Are you sure? I might still have problems matching up with you during the run on page four…”
“Nah, you’re good,” Jeongguk says. “Cause you had the best teacher.”
“True,” Jimin says, trying to smile in spite of his disappointment.
“So you should treat your teacher for being so helpful,” Jeongguk says, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Since you have free time now.”
“Huh?” Jimin says, his mind blanking out.
“There’s a bossam place near here that I always wanted to try, let’s go there after school.”
Jeongguk leaves before getting a confirmation from Jimin, who is too busy trying to figure out if he was just asked out on a date.
“Yes,” Taehyung, self proclaimed love guru, says when Jimin tells him—voluntarily!—what had happened. “102% a date.”
“What’s with the extra 2%?”
“Think about it, he wants to hang out with you even when he doesn’t have to,” Taehyung says, completely ignoring Jimin’s question. “And if he’s making you pay then that means there will be a next time so he can pay for it, and then a next time cause you’ll feel bad about him paying, and a next…”
Jimin zones out as Taehyung rambles. Trusting Taehyung is always a gamble, but Jimin wants Taehyung to be right.
“...and then you’ll get married and have tiny Jimins and Jeongguks running around and you’ll live happily ever after,” Taehyung finishes, taking a gasp of air.
It got really weird towards the end, but ignoring that, Taehyung actually made some sense. Against his better judgment, Jimin lets himself hope a little.
Seeing Jeongguk outside of practice is weird, Jimin thinks. All Jimin sees of Jeongguk during the school day is a handsome, talented clarinetist, but the Jeongguk sitting across from him is so much more. He talks about video games and internet memes and the manga that he’s reading, and Jimin sees him outside the context of orchestra.
“I’m taking singing lessons,” Jeongguk says when Jimin asks what private lessons he went to every week.
“Wait, those weren’t clarinet lessons?” Jimin asks, surprised.
“I want to be a singer,” Jeongguk says. “Clarinet is just for fun, it helps with my ear.”
Jimin looks at Jeongguk like he’s grown another head. “But you’re so good.”
Jeongguk shrugs. “I have a knack for hands-on things.”
Jimin despairs for a second about how much work he puts into playing bassoon, when he remembers that he can sing too. “Oh yeah, I was in chorus as a first year,” he said.
“Why aren’t you there now?” Jeongguk asks. He seems genuinely surprised.
“They put me in the alto section. I was the only male.” Jimin doesn’t know why he’s telling Jeongguk something so embarrassing about himself, but he has a weird feeling of not wanting to hide anything from Jeongguk. “And there were more girls than guys so there were girls in the tenor section.”
Jeongguk starts laughing and laughs so hard he has trouble breathing. “You do have a really cute high voice, hyung, cuter and higher than some girls’.”
“I don’t want to be told that,” Jimin whines. But somehow it makes him feel fuzzy inside. Maybe if it’s Jeongguk who says that it might be okay.
When Jeongguk recovers from his fit of laughter, he wipes his eyes and sighs. “You know those people who do Youtube covers? We should make one one of these days.”
“Yeah, that’d be cool,” Jimin says, beaming. That means more time to hang out with Jeongguk, which in his experience ha never been a bad thing.
“So when are you gonna make a move?” Taehyung asks the next day at lunch.
“I don’t think that’s an option,” Jimin says, poking at his mac and cheese with his fork.
Taehyung sighs loudly. “It’s the only option, you realize we’re graduating this month?”
Jimin nods. He’s thought about this before, but not for long. It’s not something he likes to think about.
“So get a move on, man!” Taehyung says.
“Okay,” Jimin says, if only to placate Taehyung. He doesn’t even know what getting a move on looks like, much less how to do it.
The day of the final performance arrives much more quickly than Jimin expects. Time always passes more quickly the more Jimin wants it to last. Jimin doesn’t want it to ever be over. If they perform the song, it’ll be over, no more impromptu lessons in the cozy practice room, no more laughing over Director Song’s strange mannerisms in class. Jimin is graduating soon and he has to leave before he has any chance to let anything happen with Jeongguk.
They’re in their dress clothes, neat white button ups and pressed black slacks. Jeongguk looks good in it; he looks good in everything. He looks over and smiles his scrunchy eyed, toothy smile, and Jimin returns it weakly.
“Are you okay, hyung?” Jeongguk asks, immediately picking up that something was wrong with Jimin.
“Just nervous,” Jimin says, trying to laugh it off.
Jeongguk looks like he’s not going to say anything and he looks away. “This is your last concert, huh,” he says quietly, so quietly Jimin wonders if he imagined it.
Jimin nods. He looks down at his hands, which are gripping the fabric of his slacks tightly. He looks back up to see Jeongguk staring intently at him, and he is seized by an impulsive desire. “I’m sad I won’t get to see you anymore,” Jimin says before he thinks he might regret saying it.
Jeongguk blinks and then he’s grinning widely. “Who says you won’t see me anymore? You think you can get rid of me just by graduating?” He leans in and his lips brush against Jimin’s ear, sending shivers down Jimin’s spine. “I like you, hyung, I’m not going anywhere.”
All the hairs stand up on Jimin’s neck and arms as a bolt of electricity shoots through him. He stares at Jeongguk, who has returned to oiling his clarinet and putting the pieces together, wetting a reed in his mouth as if nothing happened.
He turns back to his own bassoon and prepares it with his head ducked down. He hopes nobody is looking at him, his face is so warm he can feel the heat of it radiating all the way to Jeongguk. What did that mean?
Judging by the way he is restless with giddiness, it was probably something good. Jimin feels his cheeks bunch up trying not to smile and he massages them so they don’t cramp up on stage.
Jimin loves orchestral performances. After all the time spent during rehearsal, the final performance is the culmination of every single person’s effort. They sound good, and Jimin is always excited to show off their hard work to the audience, which is made up of mostly their parents, but their audience nonetheless.
When the orchestra is getting on stage, he immediately sees Taehyung jumping up and down in the front aisle, waving his arms. Taehyung had somehow convinced a hyung he knew to lend him a semi-professional DSLR, and he’d volunteered as the concert’s official photographer.
Jimin debates for a second whether he should wave back to Taehyung or pretend not to know him, but he’s in a good mood, so he returns Taehyung’s enthusiastic wave.
Taehyung stops waving, catches Jimin’s gaze, and wiggles his eyebrows in a knowing way. Jimin shakes his head. Taehyung sticks out his tongue, and to Jimin’s surprise, Jeongguk stifles a giggle behind him. Jimin blushes furiously again, maybe he shouldn’t have waved back to Taehyung. He hopes his fire engine red blush can be attributed to the burning stage lights.
The orchestra takes a seat when Director Song signals them to sit, and they start tuning their instruments.
The first few songs flow by quickly, and before Jimin can react, he and Jeongguk are up. As Director Song introduces the piece, Jimin rubs a sweaty palm against his pants leg nervously when he feels a reassuring touch on his back. He looks up, and Jeongguk smiles at him before squeezing his shoulder.
Jimin nods, and he smiles back before lifting his bassoon back up to his mouth. He watches for Director Song’s cue and imagines himself back in the small practice room with only one stand, and matching his harmony perfectly with Jeongguk’s melody.
Jimin is so into the music that it is over before he knows it. When Director Song waves his hand to signal the end of the last drawn out note, he pauses and maintains his pose for a moment, and then Director Song’s hands drop and Jimin relaxes as the audience breaks out into applause.
He finds Jeongguk’s gaze first. Jeongguk’s eyes are shining with pride, and they both turn to Director Song, who silently claps for them as well. He has them stand up, just the two of them, and they receive the audience’s extended applause.
The rest of the concert, Jimin is on a high from performing the solo just as well or better than he did in practice. He has fun on the stage, which is why he always loves the semester end concerts.
Afterwards, they have a reception in the cafeteria with snacks and drinks. Jimin loses sight of Jeongguk in the crowd, but he’s too busy receiving compliments from his classmates and their parents to look for him. Everybody loved the duet, and Jimin bashfully thanks everyone for their kind praises.
“Hey, can I borrow you for a minute?”
It’s Taehyung. “Yeah, sure,” Jimin says, and smiles apologetically to the parent he was talking to before letting Taehyung drag him away. “What’s up?”
“Something really important, but it’s too loud here for me to remember.” Taehyung leads Jimin out of the crowd into the hallways. He stops in front of a bathroom. “Oh yeah, I need to get something,” he says, going into the bathroom. “Don’t forget we’re graduating soon!”
“What do you need to get inside a bathroom?” Jimin shouts after him, before sighing and leaning against the wall. He doesn’t get Taehyung half of the time, and this is one of those times.
“Oh hyung, you’re here.”
Jimin nearly falls over as Jeongguk rounds the corner. Smooth. “H-h-hey, you going to the bathroom?” Even smoother.
It seems Jeongguk doesn't notice Jimin's supreme failure at acting normal and he joins Jimin, pressing his back against the tiles of the hallway wall. “You did an awesome job,” he says, patting Jimin on the head. “You’ve made your teacher proud.”
“You were better,” Jimin says. His heart is hammering in his throat, he doesn’t even know how words were able to come out of him.
“But together we were the best,” Jeongguk says, grinning. “Anyway, Taehyung hyung said you had something to tell me.”
Jimin stares blankly at Jeongguk before Taehyung’s last words clicked. That stupid Taehyung. He isn’t prepared for this, which is probably better or else he might throw up. “You know what you said before we went on stage?”
Jeongguk nods.
Jimin takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. “Ilikeyoutoowillyougooutwithme?” rushes out like an exhale. And then Jimin realizes what he’s done and claps a hand over his mouth. He wants to shrink and turn into one of the speckles on the floor, but he holds his ground and ventures a peek at Jeongguk.
Jeongguk grins and ruffles Jimin’s hair again. “Finally.”
“Huh?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to realize,” Jeongguk says, and holds out a hand. “Let’s get back to the food.”
“Is that a yes?” Jimin says, the same moment he realizes Jeongguk’s proffered hand is for him. He takes it, unable to stop smiling.
“Yes,” Jeongguk says, interlacing their fingers together and pulling him back towards the cafeteria.
There may not be a lot of time left at school, but they’ll both be around town. Jimin squeezes Jeongguk’s hand. This isn’t an ending, it’s a new beginning.
(“I can’t believe you had it in you to ask him out before I finished taking a dump,” Taehyung says when he finds them later. “Way to leave me behind.”
Jimin and Jeongguk share a glance and then they burst out laughing.
“Stop getting along so well,” Taehyung complains.
“Thanks to you,” Jimin says with an innocent smile and a hug. It doesn’t placate Taehyung, but when Jimin checks, Taehyung has a giant grin on his face.)