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I.
Fuck.
Fuck his crappy Park family genetics for so generously blessing him with squishy cherub-cheeks, high-pitched fits of giggling, and an infuriatingly short stature.
He could ignore Hoseok pinching his cheeks. He could even sometimes overlook Taehyung mocking his stupid giggling.
But what he couldn’t get over—or, more precisely, what his short stubby little fingers couldn’t get over—was the top of the highest stupid shelf to reach the stupid little book he needed for his stupid Korean literature class.
Did he mention how it was stupid?
With an exasperated sigh, he resigned himself to—gulp—asking for help from someone was more vertically-gifted than him. A blow to the ego was better than a blow to the grade, he reasoned. If only someone had reasoned that some people were not tall and could not reasonably reach books on the top shelf, then he wouldn’t be in this—you guessed it—stupid situation. Walking out from between the tall bookshelves, he looked up and down the rows of desks occupied by stressed-out students to see if there was someone tall to help him.
Fuck.
Everyone looks short when they’re sitting down!
Except maybe… him? He swore that the one brown-haired boy a few desks down lived in his dorm. He was pretty tall, right? He had to duck for the low-clearance doorway leading to the stairwell in his building, so he must have been tall. Zero for one with tall things, two for two with reasoning, Jimin.
He timidly walked over and tapped the boy on the shoulder, causing the brunette to turn around in his seat and look at him.
Oh shit. This was not the kid he saw around his dorm. The kid he was thinking of wore stuffy polos and glasses and had small eyes and a small-ish nose.
This kid had large cute doe eyes, defined cheekbones, a killer jawline, and a pretty face. He showed off his collarbones and tanned skin with an oversized white v-neck T-shirt.
Jerking him back to reality, one of the kid’s eyebrows cocked. Oh right, words are a thing. Social interaction is thing. Not being weird is a thing.
“Oh, um, sorry to bother you, but could you help me get a book that I can’t reach?” he whispered, trying not to sound like he was too needy or too desperate or falling in love or anything stupid like that. The only thing that was stupid around here was that stupid bookshelf.
The kid nodded and closed his notebook—thank God, he couldn’t try asking someone else after that jarring experience.
Pushing his chair back, the pretty-faced student got up. And up. And up.
Fuck.
He was tall: a full head taller than puny blonde-haired Park Jimin. The brown Timberland boots he wore certainly didn’t make him seem any shorter.
“Oh, um, it’s over here,” he whispered again, sensing that the boy was waiting for him to show the way. He led him back to the bookshelf he was not-so-gracefully struggling with earlier. Pointing up toward the top shelf, he described the book he needed: “It’s the blue one.”
Nodding again, the mute hottie easily reached up and grabbed the blue book on his first try, handing it over to the shorter boy.
“Uh, thanks…?”
“Jungkook,” the boy responded, finally using the beautiful melodic voice that genetics of course had blessed him with, because you know why not. Jimin can be short and squishy and have annoying fits of giggling while Jungkook is tall, handsome, and beautiful.
“Thanks, J-jungkook,” he stammered.
The taller boy just smiled, waved, and returned to his desk, which might have seemed like a completely normal response for just about anyone else but freaking Jungkook had to be hot and cute at the same time while doing it, right?
Stupid genetics.
II.
Was this class just trying to torture him?
Of course he needed another book the very next day. Of course it was on the same high shelf as last time. Of course he couldn’t reach it again. Of-freaking-course.
And so here he was again, outside the solace of the bookshelves, looking for another hopefully-not-totally-distractingly-hot tall guy to help him reach his book.
Oh, there’s Jungkook again.
Fate wouldn’t have it any other way, would it?
Awkwardly waving toward the taller boy who was wearing a tighter black T-shirt today (note to self: does he only wear monochrome T-shirts?) and seemingly just walking into the library, Jungkook noticed him and removed his earbuds. The damn Timberlands made him tower over the shorter boy.
“Hey Jungkook, I, um, need another book that I can’t reach today.”
“Okay.”
He definitely sings. If he doesn’t, he should.
“Same shelf as last time,” he started rambling while walking toward the bookshelves. “My Korean lit professor just likes to surprise us with more work. By the way, my name’s Jimin. Sorry to bother you again.”
“It’s okay,” he quietly. “Which one do you need, Jimin?”
If Jungkook says his name again, he might just faint.
“The yellow one this time.”
The thing about tighter shirts is that they ride up when you stretch.
Jungkook was wearing a tight shirt today.
He couldn’t lie, the small amount of tan skin that showed under the taller boy’s T-shirt made him go crazy. Jungkook’s frame didn’t lie—he was broad and worked out, and his now-exposed taut chest muscles just confirmed the obvious.
The taller boy’s shirt fell back down and Jimin’s eyes snapped back up.
“This one?” Jungkook asked.
“Oh, um, not that one.”
Stretching up again, Jungkook looked for another yellow book while Jimin looked back down for another peek at Jungkook. No shame at all.
“This one?”
Shit, look back up, Jimin!
“Y-yeah, that one.”
Jungkook wordlessly handed it over and then nervously bit down on his lower lip as he stepped away from the shorter boy. Was that on purpose?
“T-thanks!” he stuttered.
“You’re welcome,” the taller boy breathed before going back to the desk he was at the day before.
III.
“Do you need help finding anything?” a librarian asked the short blonde-haired boy as he inspected the bookshelf.
“Oh! No I’m fine, thanks though!” he lied. Him looking at the bookshelf was just a cover for the inner turmoil consuming the vertically-challenged Korean lit student. He didn’t really need a book today. Well, he did. He just didn’t need a book up from the top shelf today.
What he really needed today was Jungkook.
The tall cute boy had been running circles through his mind for the past two days (maybe in short shorts that showed off his killer thighs that Jimin knew existed because of the teasing tight pants that Jungkook wore every freaking day). Jimin also knew that the universe worked in strange ways: he would only find the taller boy if he replicated his embarrassing I’m-a-short-person problem. Openly pining was a no-no. And, lo and behold—there was Jungkook at the same desk as before, and here he was “struggling” with the bookshelf again. Closet pining? Totally okay, apparently.
He was way more nervous tapping Jungkook’s back the second time around, but the small smile the taller boy put on when he saw it was Jimin eased a few of his concerns… It also made butterflies start exploding in his stomach. The cost of closet pining, Jimin thought.
“Um, could you hel—“
“—Sure,” Jungkook responded before he could even finish his question.
Part of him really wanted to pretend like Jungkook just agreed to a date instead of to help him get a book off the shelf, but that probably would have been weird.
And asking the same boy to get you a book three days in a row wasn’t weird? he asked himself.
Details. (He secretly hoped that Jungkook didn’t think it was weird.)
“This time it’s the green one.”
“Okay.”
No tight shirt this time. Disappointing.
“Here you go,” Jungkook said as he offered a small green book and an accompanying smile.
“Thanks!” he replied. Turning around, he knew that he wouldn’t make it much longer—the taller boy’s radiant smile was too much.
“Jimin,” a small whisper came from behind him.
“W-what?” his voice hitching mid-response as he turned to face the taller boy.
“Why didn’t you use the stepladder?” Jungkook asked, pointing with his eyes over the shorter boy’s head toward the three-step wooden rolling stepladder a little farther down the aisle. Jimin quickly turned around and then turned back toward Jungkook, whose face remained unchanged. Yet, there was something about the way his eyes sparkled under the light—like he was playing with him.
“Oh, um, I – I didn’t notice it?” he replied, confidence quickly evaporating. Fuck, fuck, fuck, abort, abort, abort.
“Really?” Jungkook took a step forward to close the distance between the two of them, forcing him to crane his neck upwards to look Jungkook in the eye.
“You didn’t notice it yesterday or the day before either?” the taller boy added, his lips curling up into a small smirk.
“N-no, I—” he started to respond, slinking backwards a step. Abort.
“—You just happened to find me three days in a row?” Jungkook interrupted, eliminating the new space Jimin had put between them.
“I, uh – You were the only tall person—“ Another step back.
“—In the entire library?” Another step forward.
“Y-you were right there,” Jimin corrected himself.
“So you had to ask me?”
“I – You—“
“I what?”
“You were the hottest tall person I could find!" Jimin whined, his louder voice causing heads to turn toward them at the tables behind the bookshelves. His face flushed bright red, and even Jungkook seemed startled by the outburst, the smirk wiped clean off of his face.
Silence.
Jimin covered his face with his sweater-sleeve-covered hands, half-in-total-shock that he would be so blunt, half-mortified that he confessed to the entire world that he thought Jungkook was hot. He didn’t want to see what Jungkook’s face looked like, he didn’t want Jungkook to see his tomato-red face, and he didn’t want to see Jungkook’s back when he walked away.
Hands.
Jungkook’s hands were on his waist, lifting him up into the air. He then grunted and stepped forward and placed the blonde-haired boy on the first step of the stepladder—Jimin could feel the small wooden step beneath him.
“J-Jungkook, what are you doing?” he asked, removing his hands from his face to see the tall brunette right in front of him but now at his eye-level.
“Oh nothing,” he quipped, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Just showing you how to use the stepladder so you can find your next great read.”
Jimin’s eyes widened in confusion. Meanwhile, Jungkook leaned in, tilted his head sideways, and placed a featherlight kiss on Jimin’s plump pink lips.
“My lips.”
Fuck this kid.
“I wonder what the next chapter’s like,” Jimin quietly deadpanned.
It didn’t take long for him to find out.