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“I can’t believe you roped me into this.” You glared at your best friend as the two of you stood out in the back alley behind the concert venue, along with about forty to fifty other fans.
“If you didn’t want to come along, you could have just left,” you grumbled, though you weren’t exactly pleased to be out in the cold either. There was a solid reason for you guys staying behind though – Bangtan. They weren’t exactly a well-known rock band, but they had enough popularity for the venue to have been packed, and for people to now be hanging around after the concert in hopes of catching a glimpse of any of the members – maybe they could snap a photo, or beg for a signature. You didn’t care about any of that, really – well, you did, but only in regards to one member: Park Jimin. He was the bassist, one of the younger ones in the group, and quite possibly the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on. He was also one of the most talented bassists you’d ever listened to, and just his playing alone was enough to send shivers down your spine (disregarding that it was often accompanied with his sensual pout and dark eyed stare).
He was also the reason you’d forced your friend to come with you five hours before the concert, waiting out in the cold temperatures in order to be some of the first to enter the venue. “I swear to god – this guy better fucking serenade you for all the trouble we’ve gone to,” your friend hissed somewhere around the third hour, having now shoved a heat pack into her jacket, her hands tucked deeply into her pockets.
“Oh yeah – like you’re not excited to see Jungkook,” you retorted, grinning as she rolled her eyes.
“I just like the way his voice sounds – you act as though Jimin was sent from the high heavens to bless us all with his smile, which, might I add, is pretty damn rare!” You sighed, not about to start a long rant about how if your friend would just go on his Instagram or watch the band’s extra content YouTube videos, she’d see how Jimin was in fact a little angel and not just the sultry sex god he portrayed on stage.
Two hours later, you finally found yourselves in the venue, squeezed in between other fangirls desperately trying to get close to their idols. You’d managed to get pretty close to the stage – while you weren’t pressed up against the barrier dividing you from the stage, you were close enough that if they were to throw something into the crowd, you could potentially catch it. “Buddy system is being established now – if I lose you, I’m screaming ‘eggplants’ until I see you coming to find me and shut me up,” your friend teased, and you punched her in the shoulder, ignoring her groan. The opening act was decent, but your focus was constantly on the wings of the stage, watching out for him.
“Do you see them?” you yelled to your friend, and she shrugged, squinting as she tried to look along the sides of the stage. She shook her head, frowning before returning her attention to the group currently on the stage, clapping along to the song they were playing. You still watched the wings carefully, trying to avoid being trampled on by other fans, waiting for a glimpse, any signs of… “Jimin,” you gasped breathlessly, your fingers suddenly clamping down on your friend’s shoulder. He wasn’t easy to spot but he was there, his black t-shirt revealing the swell of his biceps and his black beanie tugged down low over his forehead, tufts of his orange bangs sticking out. His arms were crossed over his chest, head nodding along to the music absentmindedly. You barely noticed your friend yelling ‘WHERE – WHERE?!’ because all you could hear in that moment was the pounding of your heart. Even though he wasn’t making eye contact with you, just seeing him in that intimate moment was enough – you were pretty sure you could now die happily.
Suddenly the music was dying down, the lights were dimming and the audience was beginning to lose its mind. You blinked at the sudden change and then he was gone. “He… He was…” You glanced up to the stage, watching as the poster for the opening band fell, revealing a black backdrop with one word spray painted across it in white: BANGTAN. They came out one by one, starting first with the drummer, Yoongi – his hair was now mint green, and he settled comfortably behind his drum set, watching the audience scream with an expression of lazy confidence on his face. Seokjin came out next, the keyboard player waving proudly to the audience, unable to contain his child-like grin. Next came the two guitarists – Hoseok and Taehyung. The two spent a couple minutes goofing around on the stage, ignoring Yoongi’s yells to quit playing around as they got different sections of the audience to scream for them. Then out came Jimin, and once again, it felt like your world came to a grinding halt.
He stopped at the front of the stage, bass guitar slung across his back, watching the audience as they shrieked with sheer excitement, that familiar pout on his features. A slow smirk spread across his face as his eyes scanned from the balcony down to the floor, nodding slightly in approval before turning around, taking his place alongside Taehyung. You barely noticed your friend dying beside you as Jungkook came out or how the volume in the theatre exploded as the singer finally spoke, a shy smile winding across his face. You were just watching Jimin – the way his fingers plugged his guitar into the amp, the way he chuckled to himself as Taehyung whispered in his ear, the way his face settled back into a pout as Hoseok started absentmindedly playing some chords, syncing up with Jin’s keyboard melodies.
The rest of the concert felt like a blur, a rush of screaming along to songs you knew every word to, laughter as the boys teased each other, nearly passing out when a ‘contest of abs’ was determined necessary (even though Jimin’s had softened since their debut, he was the winner by a long shot).
But it was their exit that made you all the more determined to find Jimin in the back alley: Jin had taken the microphone from Jungkook, giving the boy a chance to rest his voice, thanking all of you for coming out to see them. Jimin was wiping his face with his shirt – a sight you would never get tired of – and as he released the material, he began waving to the audience, smiling in appreciation. His gaze ran through the crowds, moving across the floor… and then suddenly stopping on you.
Now there was no noise in your ears because you were ninety-nine percent sure your heart had stopped beating altogether as you two made eye contact. Your chest was heaving as you tried to keep breathing, watching as his sulky expression suddenly turned upwards into a deliciously wicked smirk, his tongue slowly (possibly purposefully?) ran over his lips, and his eyes ran up and down your body. And then they were moving off the stage, the moment was broken, and all you could feel was your friend’s hand on your wrist, her voice echoing in your ear: “WHAT – WAS – THAT.”
*
So now you were standing outside, praying that you might be able to catch Jimin’s eye again and desperately trying to ignore the way your friend was whining that it was too cold and that if she caught pneumonia it was all your fault. “Would you just shut up?!” you hissed, swinging around so you could glare at her. Her expression had changed however, her mouth gaping as she stared over your shoulder. You whipped back around, eyes wide as you saw Jimin now standing in the doorway, smirking as a group of girls surged around him, shoving pens and CDs and posters into his face. “… Fuck,” you groaned, quickly grabbing your friend’s wrist, working your way into the crowd of girls. Just because there weren’t many of you, didn’t mean it would be any easier for you to get close to the bassist. Before you could get past the first two rows blocking you from the redhead though, a man with pink hair suddenly came out (you recognized him instantaneously – their manager, Namjoon), telling the girls they needed to step aside, to give the band some space to breathe, that if everyone would just calm down, they’d get around to everyone.
You could feel yourself moving farther away from him as the crowd pushed back, letting the boys step out, grabbing whatever they could to sign – you were pretty sure you even saw Taehyung signing someone’s arm, that infectious laugh of his overpowering even the screams of the girls. You kept hopping around, trying to see over and around the other fans, hoping for a glimpse of Jimin. You spun around, calling out for your friend – then grinning as you realized she was face to face with Jungkook, stammering out some sort of praise to him. You wondered if she noticed how his cheeks were flushed, his own shyness replacing his strong stage presence.
Suddenly you could hear Namjoon yelling out to the boys to get into the vans, crying out apologies to the fans as they began to wail. You spun again, a noise of distress escaping you until you felt a hand grab your wrist. Glancing up, your eyes met a dark brown gaze, and the owner of those eyes noticed your white shirt band shirt, quickly spinning you around. “I was wondering where you went.” Jimin’s voice hummed lazily, his hand pulling on the collar of your jacket, pushing it down. “Nice of you to wait around for us.” You needed to say something – you had to say something, but your voice disappeared as he suddenly smoothed his hand over your spine, bending you over slightly, scribbling something across the top of your back. You had to hide a shiver as he patted your back gently, clearly pleased with himself. As you felt the pressure of his hand disappear, you let out a breathy laugh, spinning to say something – but he’d already left. He was gone, and you hadn’t said a word.
“Did you see that?!” Your friend was squealing something about how incredible that was, that she’d actually spoken to Jungkook, but all you could process was that you’d missed your opportunity. That was until your friend moved around you and grabbed the back of your jacket, shoving it down to see what he’d written. “… Y/N.” She quickly snapped a photo, handing you her phone so you could see.
1:30, outside of the Hyatt. Someone’ll come out for you. I’ll see you later. ;) Following that was the signature: ‘Park Jimin’.
*
You knew this was insane, but it was a once in a lifetime chance, and if it meant getting close to Jimin in any way, shape or form, you’d fucking take it. You shivered in the cold, thankful that you’d managed to find a beanie tucked deep into the glove compartment of your friend’s car. She claimed you were insane, and that if anything bad happened, you were to call her immediately, but you had your hopes up a little higher.
1:29 was what your phone read, and you ran your tongue over your cracked lips, glancing up and down the street for any signs of life. It was when you felt the hand on your shoulder that you turned around, eyes wide as you found yourself face to face with Namjoon. He nodded at you, his gaze wandering over you curiously. “You’re here for Jiminie, I presume?” You nodded slowly, and the thought occurred to you that maybe this was a normal thing for him – that you were just one girl in a long string of hookups from across the country. “Well, come on then.” He motioned for you to follow him, leading you through the door of the hotel, your footsteps the only noise that echoed through the lobby.
As you neared the elevators in the back, you saw someone standing by the elevator doors, his head bent, reading through something on his phone. You froze as he looked up, those reddish-orange bangs and dark brown eyes giving him away. “Thanks Joonie,” the younger boy called out, ignoring Namjoon’s grumble of how he wasn’t a chaperone, opening up an elevator and heading up. His attention fell on you next, that naughty smile flickering across his face. “Hey.”
It was just one word, but it was enough to make your hands curl around the ends of your sleeves. Taking a deep breath, you praised the high heavens that your voice was steady as you spoke: “Hi Jimin.”
He arched an eyebrow, stepping closer to you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his eyes meeting yours as he asked, “You know… It’s not fair that you know my name, but I don’t know yours. Why don’t you come upstairs so I can learn it?”
*
You’d barely made it into the hotel room when he had you pinned up against the door, his hands wrapped around your hips, his lips pressed against yours. You could vaguely remember your friend’s warnings, her voice echoing in your memories, and you just did – not – care. His hands slid around your waist, moving down to grope at your ass, and all you could remember was the hours you’d spent observing his hands, the way his fingers strummed across his guitar, and holy shit they felt even better in real life.
You somehow managed to move away from the door, the two of you constantly battling to gain dominance, his hands struggling to pull your band t-shirt off, your fingers fighting with the waistband of his jeans. He managed to get you to stumble back towards the bed, your hands already reaching out for him to pull him to you before he suddenly paused, hunched over you, his eyes meeting yours one more time. You were surprised by the softness in his voice as he asked you, “Are – are you sure about this?” The hesitation threw you off, but you simply smiled, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling his body towards yours, his lips muffling your response.
“Absolutely certain.”
*
“You – you mean to tell me… YOU SLEPT WITH PARK FUCKING JIMIN.” You slouched down into your seat as you smirked proudly, mind running wild with memories from the night before. The way his face felt between your thighs… The way it sounded when he was moaning… His hands wrapped around your wrists, his hips pressed up against yours, his weight pinning you to the bed… You were sore all over, you were certain no amount of concealer would hide the dark marks on your throat and you were fucking exhausted. None of that mattered though, because you had shared an unforgettable night with Jimin. “Did you say anything to each other? Or what – you just fucked until you fell asleep?” She let out a screech of disbelief as your blush said all she needed to know. “In-fucking-credible…”
Your smile faded a little bit as you thought of how difficult it had been to leave in the morning. You were the first to wake, unable to hide your grin at how Jimin held you close to him, one arm tucked under your breasts, the other slung over your hip, his breathing gentle against the back of your neck. You were certain you could have remained there for hours, not even needing to say a word (though the brief conversations you’d held the night before let you know that you wanted to dig deep into every nook and cranny of this boy’s brain, to pick him apart until you could fully comprehend the enigma that was Park Jimin, this boy who was handsome as hell with the sex appeal to match, yet also as soft and as endearing as a puppy), but you knew there was no chance of that. So you did your best to escape his grasp without waking him, collecting your clothes and leaving a thank you note behind, saying if he was ever in town again to come look you up. You were tempted to leave your number, but you knew that there wasn’t a point. He was Park Jimin – he was a fucking sex god, and you doubted you were the only fan of his who had had the chance to learn that.
*
It was only a few weeks later when you were going through your phone in the library, searching for some notes that you’d saved that you realized how wrong you were. “Where did I put…” You trailed off, frowning as you saw a note you didn’t remember saving. “PJ…?” you asked yourself, opening it up, not noticing the date it had been saved.
Hey… So, hopefully you don’t think I’m too much of a creep for hacking your phone? Then again, it’s not very smart to have your passcode as 1234… Anyways, I’m not very good at talking, as you could probably tell – there’s a reason why I’m not the lead singer. What I’m trying to say though is… I don’t generally do this, I guess. I’ve never taken a girl back to my room, despite what my stage persona and my… Confidence from tonight, might suggest. God – okay, I’ll just stop rambling. I’ll leave you my number, and maybe when this tour ends, we could like – actually hang out, or something? I don’t know – I’ll leave it up to you. But, I will tell you this – last night was incredible. And I’ll never forget it. So, if nothing else, thank you for that.
Underneath that paragraph was a phone number and his name. You didn’t think about how it had literally been three weeks since the concert, didn’t think about how maybe he’d forgotten you by now – all you did was dial the number with shaky fingers.
“Hello?” You nearly dropped the phone at that familiar, curious tone, and you had to clap a hand over your mouth to hide your smile.
“… Hey, Jimin. Miss me yet?” The line went silent for a few moments, but you could nearly hear the grin in his voice once he responded.
“You have no fucking idea.”