“did you see taeyang sunbaenim’s new music video?” jimin prattles on excitedly, not even bothering to check before grabbing blindly at the mystery meat sandwich and unceremoniously dropping it on his tray.

jeongguk wrinkles his nose delicately, sliding his own tray over and carefully selecting a greek yogurt with honey and juice box instead.

“yeah, it was pretty good,” taehyung nods, eyeing the mystery meat curiously before poking the bun. the cafeteria lady’s nostrils flare, an angry gush of air exhaling through her nose. taehyung smiles widely, picking up the small paper plate and settling it on his tray.

jeongguk clicks his tongue in mild distaste, muttering under his breath about questionable taste in food and chemical waste.

“what do you mean pretty good,” jimin gasps dramatically as if taehyung had just personally offended his family honor, grabbing a banana and chocolate pudding and slamming it down on his tray hard enough for the sandwich to totter precariously.

“here we go again,” jeongguk sighs, rolling his eyes.

“excuse,” jimin glares, totally affronted. “it’s more than pretty good. it’s amazing. it’s the best. it’s-”

“two-twenty five,” the girl at the cashier interrupts in a monotone voice, staring at her fingernails in an expression of utter boredom.

“what?” jimin blinks, thrown off from his mini tirade.

the girl sticks our her hand, palm up.

“your lunch money,” jeongguk sighs again, wondering not for the first time why he hangs out with this poor excuse for an upperclassman.

“oh,” jimin digs into his back pocket and pulls out the five dollar bill his mother had given him this morning. he hands it to the girl, who rolls her eyes and tucks it into the money box, handing jimin back his change and a small packet of spork and napkin. she doesn’t even bother sparing taehyung a glance.

“two-twenty five.”

“as i was saying,” jimin continues on as if he hadn’t even been interrupted, sliding down the open bench area while jeongguk and taehyung sit across. “taeyang sunbaenim is king, and his new music video is the greatest thing ever,” jimin concludes with a flourish, whipping up his sandwich and taking an almighty bite.

jeongguk winces, and jimin chokes. he subtly spits out his mouthful into a napkin and rolls it into a ball.

“i didn’t say it was bad,” taehyung shrugs, sniffing his own sandwich before taking a cautious bite. “i said it was good.”

“but you said it was pretty good,” jimin says, expression one of great pain and agony. “taeyang sunbaenim ascends any mortal level of pretty good.”

“why do you keep calling him sunbaenim?” jeongguk raises an eyebrow, taking a small sip of his juice box. “you’re not even-”

“because,” jimin interrupts, speaking in a haughty tone while peeling back the lid on his pudding cup. “he is my greatest influence, and i’m going to be a great singer just like him. therefore, he is my sunbaenim.”

“right, and i’m gonna be the first astronaut to claim the sun,” jeongguk snorts, setting down his juice box and glancing over at taehyung chewing thoughtfully on his sandwich. “how are you still alive?” jeongguk grimaces.

“it’s actually not that bad,” taehyung mumbles around his mouthful, offering his lunch and sticking it under jeongguk’s nose.

jeongguk swerves away in disgust, pushing taehyung’s hand away just when a small brown projectile whooshes past his nose.

jeongguk snaps his gaze over his shoulder, watching as the foreign brown torpedo whizzes by in slow motion and splatters onto the back of a black hoodied figure with headphones, who freezes mid-sip of his soda, straw quivering ominously in the air.

“oh,” jimin’s breath escapes his lungs in a whoosh, and jeongguk turns back to face him. “i meant to hit you,” jimin mumbles, squeaks.

jimin sucks in a sharp breath as the black hoodied figure reaches across his shoulder and wipes the chocolate blob from his back, slowly rising from the bench and sliding his headphones off to hang around his neck.

he turns around, pudding covered fingers still held up.

it’s that one senior, min yoongi. the mysterious transfer student, the one who’s rumored to have come from a family of mafias, the one who supposedly beat up that one gang of bullies who pick on the younger students, the one who the other students claim have millions of dollars locked away in safes at his enormous mansion from shady dealings through the family business.

the one that jimin may or may not have seen in passing, in the halls, in the bathroom, on the basketball court after school where jimin was totally not stalking him, of course not, and jimin thought was kind of maybe cute, and may have been harboring a small crush since half way through freshmen year.

the senior’s piercing eyes cut across the cafeteria, holding onto jimin’s terrified gaze as he sets down his soda and makes his way down the aisles towards the cowering sophomore.

and jimin knows better than to believe any of those rubbish gossip. but he can’t help the cold chill tingling down his spine regardless.

“i’m so dead,” jimin cowers, wishing a hole would open up and swallow him whole.

jeongguk snickers.

jimin is all but shriveled up in terror as yoongi reaches their table, eyes still glued to the pudding in morbid fascination.

he’s got really nice hands.

“i think this is yours,” yoongi comments in a low, clear voice. and jimin dies just a little bit more on the inside.

jimin opens his mouth, trying to speak around the lump caught in his throat. but it seems like an impossible task, because he’s finding it very difficult to breathe, let alone string together two words.

“um,” jimin coughs awkwardly, clearing his throat. “yeah, you know. i like to share and all that. thought you might like some?” his voice slowly dies, sentence fading out into a question under yoongi’s raised eyebrow.

“huh,” yoongi hums, nodding his head. “i see. well, i have my own chocolate pudding, so,” he reaches out, and jimin’s guts twist as yoongi’s very soft fingers slide down his cheek, cold globby mess trailing across the burning path left behind by his touch.

the cafeteria goes silent as they all turn to watch curiously.

jeongguk laughs.

taehyung continues eating his sandwich as if nothing had happened at all.

and jimin reacts on instinct, squeezing the remainder of his pudding cup onto yoongi’s sweater in one giant splatter, only after realizing what he’s done and regretting instantly.

“oh my god,” jimin breathes, cheeks burning up. “i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to!” he blabbers on in a nonstop stream of incoherent words. “jeonggukwasbeingadisrespectfullittlepunkandiwastryingtoteachhimalessonandthatwasnt
supposedtohityouandimsosorryicanhavemymomwashthatandbringitbacktoyouonthursday…”

the corner of yoongi’s lips quirk up in amusement, head tilting to the side.

“ohmygodpleasedontkillmeidonthaveanymoneyicanbeyourslaveforafewdaysinreturn-” jimin’s face is starting to turn blue from lack of air, and his words are suddenly cut off with a startled jerk as yoongi takes jeongguk’s yogurt (“hey i’m still eating that!”) and plops it onto jimin’s head.

jimin blinks, honey dripping down his temple. he gazes up, bewildered, into yoongi’s smiling face, and slowly returns the smile.

he clears his throat again, carding his fingers through his clumped mess of yogurty hair. “i can wash that,” jimin repeats more slowly this time. “if you want.”

“don’t worry about it,” yoongi shrugs, rubbing his thumb softly across jimin’s temple and wiping away some of the honey. “i’d say we’re pretty even.”

jimin’s cheeks flush a delicate shade of pink, and jeongguk sighs in annoyance.

“my yogurt,” jeongguk whines, and jimin reaches over the table to smear the yogurt in his hand onto jeongguk’s shirt.

“ew gross,” jeongguk wails.

“food fight!” someone shouts from across the cafeteria.

and an all-out battle begins, no prisoners taken, as an explosion of various food products and miscellaneous unidentifiable objects fling across the cafeteria.

“so, what’s your name?” yoongi asks conversationally as he and jimin take refuge under the table, sitting cross-legged, knees lightly touching. “and what was that you said about being my slave again?”