Chapter Text
It was almost summer and the hot weather did not help as Jungkook ran across campus to catch his Literature professor before his next class. Seoul wasn't usually this hot during this time of the year; Jungkook just chalked up the weird weather under global warming and climate change. Certainly, his dark, layered outfit did not help but he figured it was easier to just blame the greenhouse gases.
He climbed the staircase three steps at a time, inwardly praying his large stomper boots would not fail him and cause him to trip and fall face first.
Listen. Jungkook knew how ridiculous it was to be wearing gigantic boots when summer was just around the corner, but he decided on this emo-meets-punk pop vibe before the semester started and he wasn't about to ruin the whole aesthetic he had going because of a little humidity.
Admittedly, Jimin and Yoongi made fun of him endlessly for it. Hobi—his sweetest, best hyung— however, said he looked great.
"Wah! You look so cool, Jungkook-ah!"
Jungkook felt his cheeks warm up a little, remembering how Hobi was so nice to him.
He was supposed to meet them for lunch, but he needed to drop something off first. Jungkook reached the third floor in no time. Panting and slightly sweaty, he went inside the last room to the left, completely forgetting to knock.
He roamed his eyes around the room, looking for Professor Kim Seokjin to hand him a draft of a short story he was working on. He was told that the professor was at the faculty lounge, so Jungkook excitedly made his way to the room — only to see his advisor glaring daggers at a smirking Professor Kim Namjoon of Art History.
Damn, Jungkook thought. Those two weren't really known to be best friends and were usually bickering to no end, especially when they think no one was looking.
Someone was always looking. They were not subtle at all.
"Namjoon-ah, did you or did you not eat my bibimbap?"
Jungkook thought he saw smoke coming out of Seokjin's ears but that couldn't be physically possible. Maybe the late nights were catching up on him and he's started hallucinating. He shook his head to snap out of his musings and looked at the Art History professor.
Namjoon shrugged, completely nonchalant, "I don't know, hyung. I mean, how could I know if it was yours or if somebody left it for me?"
Seokjin slammed his chopsticks on the table. He took three deep breaths and with an eerily calm voice, he explained, "It was in a pink container and I wrote 'Kim' on the lid. Pretty hard to miss since it's the only pink lunchbox in the entire pantry."
This was the first time Jungkook saw his professor seething in silent rage. Seokjin was not blinking at all, expression blank and head tilted slightly to the right.
His heart started beating faster. Was it because of fright? Definitely. Was he a tiny, little bit attracted to the quiet display of dominance?
...Shit. Honestly, maybe.
Jungkook gulped and slowly took a step back, eager to leave the room before he did something embarrassing and/or became witness to murder of an Art History professor. His short story could wait, really. It was only just a couple chapters and it could really use another round of revisions before he handed it to Seokjin.
Maybe he could just take another step back towards the door, maybe they wouldn’t notice...
He was going to take another step when Namjoon let out an exaggerated gasp, staring at Seokjin with fake remorse. "Hyung! I thought that was for me!"
Oh shit, Jungkook thought. Shit, shit, shit.
Namjoon was not yet done. Grinning, he added, "Hyung, you see, my last name is also Kim—"
Seokjin was about to lunge and smack the shit out of Namjoon's head when he finally noticed Jungkook standing still with wide eyes. "You little piece of— oh, Jungkook-ssi. You're here."
Half-hesitant, half-terrified, Jungkook took another step back. If he was scared before of being witness to a crime, he was scared now to be the next murder victim.
"Ahh... Umm... I swear I didn't see anything... I was just..."
"Is that the draft you were telling me earlier?" Seokjin pointed at the manila envelope Jungkook was holding. He smiled at his student and Jungkook could not believe how quickly his mood shifted. "Sorry for making you print it out. I know you kids send everything via email now, but I still like holding them physically. Feels a bit more personal, don't you think?"
"Ahjussi," Namjoon whispered in a fake cough. Jungkook could not wait to get out of this room.
"Sorry, Jungkook-ssi. Apparently not everyone in this university has learned enough manners to know that eavesdropping is frowned upon," Seokjin said haughtily, side-eyeing Namjoon. He, however, turned to Jungkook with a smile. "I'll read this tonight and let you know what I think. I'm excited for you. You're a talented writer."
Impending mortality momentarily forgotten, Jungkook beamed at his advisor and nodded enthusiastically. "Thank you, Professor Kim. I really appreciate that."
"Don't you teach Literature, Professor Kim? Why are you giving advice on writing?"
And with just two sentences, the positive atmosphere vanished and Jungkook saw how Seokjin's ears turned an alarming shade of red.
Seokjin turned his back on Jungkook but he could just imagine the professor’s eyebrow raised when he said, "Professor Kim, I do have a degree in writing. I even published a novel not too long ago. Didn't you ask for a signed copy?”
Jungkook did not wait for Namjoon's answer and decided to take his leave while he still could. "Ah, I'll be on my way then. Thanks again for —"
Namjoon huffed. "Didn't you offer me a signed copy? I refused but you insisted. Basically shoved the book to my face—"
"I swear I will strangle you, you insufferable—"
“Ooh, insufferable. Big word from the novelist,” Namjoon taunted, air quoting the last two words to annoy Seokjin even more.
It definitely worked.
Jungkook turned around and ran away as fast as he could. He definitely heard the sound of metal chopsticks hitting something.
Or someone.
He didn't look back to check.