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He’s exhausted.
His eyes feel like they’re weighted down with sandbags, and his body is refusing to cooperate with the orders he sends it, his feet stumbling over steps he’s run up a thousand times. He’ll mean to say one thing, but then only nonsense will spill from his mouth, words disconnected and without any semblance of order. His handwriting is no longer legible. He’s simultaneously starving and nauseous, his heart pounding as though he’s been dancing for hours.
He’s tired.
“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung will wheedle, “come to the beach with me! It’s a beautiful day!”
And Jimin will go to the beach and scrunch his toes in the sand, smiling softly as Taehyung splashes around the water. He will spend the six hours between when they arrive back at their dorm and when he has to start getting ready for class the next day writing a paper that he didn’t have the heart to tell Taehyung he needed to work on.
“Hyung, will you help me choreograph a routine for my class?” Jungkook will ask, eyes wide and cheeks round and shoulders broad. “I really have to focus on the song I’ll be singing, and I’m just…I’m really busy with all my classes. Will you help me, hyung?”
Jimin will bite down on his bottom lip, holding in the fleeting, mean thought that pops into his head. I’m really busy, too. “Of course I’ll help,” he’ll say, unable to resist smiling in response to Jungkook’s elated expression. He will spend the next two weeks working on moves that are good enough, strong enough for Jungkook to perform. Jungkook will only be available at night, between the hours of one and three in the morning. Jungkook won’t have to wake up for his classes until eleven. Jimin will have to wake up at seven. Jimin will only get three hours of sleep a night for two weeks. He still dances for his own classes, fifteen hours a week. Plus practice.
“Jimin, I really don’t have time to do those stupid physics problems!” Hoseok will beg, eyes shining with desperation as he clasps his hands together. “I know we’re supposed to work on them together, but honestly we’re dance majors! It’s stupid that the university makes us take a science requirement in the first place!”
Jimin will stare at Hoseok, feeling burdened, because he needs to do those problems. He needs good grades in all of his classes to keep his scholarship. “I’ll work on them tonight, hyung,” Jimin will say, mentally calculating how many hours it will take him to do twice as much work as he had anticipated and still practice with Jungkook. “But,” he will say, hesitating, “you can at least check my work when I’m done, right?” He won’t have much confidence in his tired brain at that point. Hoseok will grin and wave his hand dismissively. Jimin won’t even have time to make dinner over the next two nights, furiously scribbling formulas into his notebook in order to meet with Jungkook on time.
“Yah, I need your voice for my track,” Yoongi will say, dark circles under his eyes and hair messy as he knocks on Jimin’s dorm room door at two in the morning on a Saturday. Taehyung will roll over in his bed, immediately falling back asleep.
“Hyung,” Jimin will slur, wiping at his eyes, his own dark circles prominent, “it’s early.” Saturday was one of the only days he could sleep. And now…now…
“It’s really important,” Yoongi will say, tapping his foot impatiently. “If I don’t hear this now, it’ll bother me for weeks.”
“Important…” Jimin will repeat slowly, already reaching for the sweatpants he’d thrown on the floor after falling into bed after his own practice. He will smell horrible, he will feel horrible, but he will know how important Yoongi’s music is to him, how guilty he will feel if he doesn’t agree. Yoongi keeps him in the studio until he falls asleep standing at the microphone, sending him on his way with a disgusted sigh. Jimin forgets to eat that day, stomach roiling at the thought of disappointing his hyung.
Seokjin will flag Jimin down as Jimin passes in front of the campus coffee cart after his classes, where Seokjin and Jimin work part time. “Jimin, I really need to trade shifts for a few weeks,” Seokjin will say, ignoring or not seeing the way Jimin’s face falls. “My theatre class starts performing next week, and the play conflicts with my night shifts. You’ll trade your afternoons with me, won’t you?”
Night shifts, Jimin will think. Six to ten, three times a week. He was going to die. But…Jin’s play was more important than a few hours of extra sleep. Maybe he could even do some homework if it wasn’t busy. “Alright, hyung,” Jimin will say quietly. He will be too tired to put up much of a fight. Besides, Seokjin is older and about to graduate. Jimin could do this one thing for him.
“Great!” Seokjin will smile. “You start tonight!”
Jimin will not have time to eat, Jin’s shift will start in half an hour. He will spend the next four hours drinking cold coffee. He will feel as though he is vibrating out of his skin. He will not be able to concentrate on homework.
“Yah,” someone says, voice deep and rumbling.
Jimin blinks, looking up in a daze at the tall person standing over him. Oh. He must have fallen asleep at the counter. “Sorry,” he immediately apologizes, rubbing at his eyes, but it doesn’t make them feel any better. The burning is still there. “What did you say?”
The person stares at him, all tan skin and buzzed hair and flaring nostrils. “The largest coffee you have, with a shit ton of sugar.”
Jimin slowly climbs from his stool and pours a large coffee, his hands shaking as they hold the cup and carafe, respectively, but luckily nothing spills. He sets the coffee on the counter. Stares at it. Feels as though he’s missing something.
“Do you want my money?” the man asks, eyebrows creeping into his hairline incredulously.
“Oh,” Jimin says. “Sorry. Yes,” he holds a hand out and accepts it.
“Hey,” the man says. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Jimin says, smiling.
“Okay,” the man shrugs, taking a few steps back before claiming one of the small tables set up around the cart, pulling out what looks like a novel. Jimin checks his watch. There’s only an hour or so left of sunlight before it will get too dark to read.
“Hyung!” “Jiminnie!” Taehyung and Jungkook bound up to the cart, waving at Jimin. “Can we get some coffee?” Jungkook asks, he and Taehyung sitting down at another one of the tables.
Jimin stares at them. They want him…to bring the coffee over there? Sighing, Jimin fills two cups, his hands still shaking as he skirts the counter of the cart. He never makes it to the table.
“Hey,” a deep voice says.
Jimin blinks, staring up into a pair of dark eyes and a furrowed brow. Tanned skin. Buzzed hair. There are arms wrapped around Jimin’s body, a book upside down next his head.
“What…?” Jimin says, blinking flashes of color from his eyes.
“Jimin!” Taehyung yells, making Jimin flinch as his friend drops to his knees next to him. “What’s wrong, are you okay?”
“Calm down,” the owner of the dark eyes says. Jimin doesn’t say anything. Can’t seem to say anything. He winces when the man pinches his hand, frowning as the skin on the back of it retracts slowly. “You’re dehydrated. When was the last time you ate something?”
Jimin swallows. Shakes his head. “I…I don’t…” Could he really not remember?
“You don’t remember when you last ate something?” the man says, exasperated. “Okay, you,” he points at Taehyung, “go buy some food and a bottle of water.”
Shaken, Taehyung obeys without questioning him.
Jungkook takes his place. “Hyung?” he sounds scared.
“I’m okay, Kookie,” Jimin tries to smile and reassure him, attempting to sit up on his own. The man refuses to release him.
“No, you aren’t,” the man says. “I just watched you pass out. People who are okay don’t do that.”
“You’ve looked so tired helping me, hyung. I’m sorry, I should have…I should have told you I was alright on my own,” Jungkook says, head hanging with guilt.
“No, Kookie, I wanted to help,” Jimin says urgently. He hates that look on Jungkook’s face.
“Jimin?” Hoseok says, surprised, and from the corner of his eye, Jimin can just see Hoseok and Yoongi on the sidewalk. “What…what happened? Don’t you normally work the day shift?” he questions, taking a step in their direction.
“Nothing,” Jimin says, trying to sit up again. The man lets him. Jimin’s head spins, and he falls back into the man’s arms.
“What, are you falling asleep on the job now, too?” Yoongi says, eyeing his apron.
Jimin feels like crying. “I’m…I’m sorry…”
“Yah,” the man says, eyes narrowing. He has about ten centimeters on Yoongi, in width and height.
“He fainted, hyung,” Jungkook says defensively. “I’ve been keeping him up till three every morning to help with my dancing, it’s all my fault,” he says.
Hoseok winces. “I’m guessing making you do my physics work for me didn’t help. I’m sorry, Min.”
Yoongi’s expression shutters. “Is that why you fell asleep while singing for me? You haven’t been sleeping?”
“Or eating, apparently,” the man muttered.
“Here!” Taehyung huffs, skidding to a stop and dropping water, juice, and a steamed bun into Jimin’s lap.
Jimin raises a hand to pick up a bottle, but it’s shaking so much that he can’t seem to get the cap of the water open.
“Here,” the man says, balancing Jimin with one arm and hooking the bottle into the crook of his other, using his free hand to fumble it open. He presses the bottle to Jimin’s lips. Jimin drinks slowly, not wanting to choke and embarrass himself even further.
“Thanks,” Jimin says, voice small. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” the man says. He glances up. “I can guess whose fault it is, though.”
“What’s your problem, Namjoon?” Yoongi growls.
“My problem? Maybe that you treat your friends like shit,” he says, shaking his head, slowly leveraging Jimin up, watching his face closely for signs of dizziness.
“Stop,” Jimin says. “They don’t…they didn’t do anything.”
“Clearly,” the man says. “I don’t even know you, but I can tell you look like a zombie. And they didn’t do anything.”
“Jiminnie,” Taehyung says, eyes wide and teary.
Jimin can sit up on his own now. He clutches at the water bottle, his fingers twitching. “I…I’m sorry,” seems to be all he can say. “I just wanted to help everyone, but I…I ended up making you all feel bad. I’m sorry.”
The man presses the bun into Jimin’s chest. “Eat.”
“Namjoon,” Jimin says, just realizing that Yoongi had said his name. “Thanks,” he says again, picking at the paper wrapped around the bun. He raises it to his mouth. Sets it down again. “I’m…I’m not hungry,” he mumbles.
“You’ve not eaten for so long that it just seems like you’re not hungry,” Namjoon says gruffly. “Eat it. You’ll feel better. Slowly,” he adds as an afterthought.
Jimin stares at it. Tries his best to work up the will to eat. Looks at Namjoon and his friends, all staring at him. He feels self-conscious and pathetic. He can’t eat.
“Help me stand up?” he asks Taehyung. Despite Namjoon’s disgruntled expression, Taehyung helps Jimin stand, holding tightly to his arm. Wobbling a little, Jimin makes his way back behind the counter and sinks onto the stool, setting the bun down in front of him. “I’m okay now. I’m sorry. You can all go back to whatever you were doing.”
They all stare. “You’re kidding, right?” Namjoon snorts. He frowns at the determined expression on Jimin’s face. “You’re not kidding.”
“I still have three hours left of my shift,” Jimin says, hand still shaking as he raises the bottle of water to take a sip. “I promised Jin I would do this, I can’t just…leave.”
“Hyung, you fainted,” Jungkook says, pained.
“So, it’s not like it hasn’t happened before,” Jimin says. “And I’m fine.”
“It’s happened before?” Namjoon says incredulously. Meticulously, he reaches down to pick up his book and dusts off the cover. Sits down in the chair he’d occupied before. “I’m going to sit here until you eat that bun,” he says.
“Me too,” Taehyung says hurriedly, sitting down. All of his friends seem to follow suit.
Jimin sighs, staring down the bun.
“I’m sorry,” he says, to no one in particular.