Day 6
Valentines' Advent Master Post
For crasesnoster
Jimin/Yoongi, 1490, G
Jimin watches Yoongi play basketball. A little too often.
Jimin’s the only one who sees it when it happens.
Yoongi’s on defense while his team has the ball, blocking an opponent when the taller player spins on his heel. Yoongi follows the motion-he’s really great, Jimin has to admit, he’s watched him time and time again mimic movements on the fly so that his targets are well and truly cut off, no matter the size difference-but this time it’s just a little too fast for him. His ankle goes out from under him and he falls, landing on his hands and knees. Jimin stands up in the bleachers, joining half the student body already standing, and watches with a critical eye as Yoongi pushes himself back onto his feet before anyone else can notice (Jimin doesn’t miss the slight limp as he goes back to his mark).
For the rest of the game, Jimin’s eyes are trained on Yoongi-as if they weren’t already-but this time the conspicuous sign hangs at his side instead of high in the air, over his head as he cheers.
So it’s like this.
Jimin really isn’t into sports, not at all, but one day during freshman year he’d been bored out of his mind-no friends yet, no pressing homework, nothing to do. But there had been a basketball game going on in the gym. So, he’d yanked on some clothes, careful not to wake his roommate, and trekked across campus so that he could kill time. And that was the first time he’d seen Yoongi-a freshman like himself, not a starter like he is now-halfway through the game, streaking from one side of the court to the other almost faster than Jimin could keep track and it was well and truly love at first sight. He barely knows anything about the boy, only that he’s number #93 and he’s got the nicest ass Jimin’s ever seen.
Jimin has never missed a game, and one time near the end of his first year his friends had gotten him drunk and convinced him that it was a great idea to make a sign for Yoongi that he could bring to games-it’s utterly hideous, on bright pink poster paper. There’s even glitter at the corners, and big bubbly letters that say, Let’s Go, #93 with way more exclamation marks than necessary. His friends had been rooting for, I Love You, #93!!! but Jimin wasn’t quite drunk enough for that.
Anyway, he’s never missed a game, and he’s always in the stands near the back with his gaudy pink sign, shamelessly cheering on a man who doesn’t know he exists. The sign’s a little older now, they’re both juniors and Yoongi’s a starter now, the crease marks threatening to rip the paper but Jimin still carries it along with him.
He’s half-heartedly shaking it now, as Yoongi hobbles off court for halftime, and Jimin watches with a critical eye as the coach comes around to all the players. They’ve gotta take him out, he realizes with a hint of sadness, if he keeps playing he’ll just aggravate the injury. But the coach merely gives Yoongi a pat on the back before moving over to yell at the offensive players. Jimin can’t believe it.
The third quarter starts and Yoongi looks a little better, spinning on the balls of his feet to keep up with a particularly fast player, but then it all goes downhill in the last quarter when Yoongi loses his balance, careens into an opponent, and they both go down. The ref announces a penalty, but Yoongi gets back up albeit slower than before, and keeps at it.
The game ends with a narrow win for their school, and Jimin cheers along with everyone else as the players take the court, soaking up the victory before heading back to the locker room. Yoongi stays on the bench the entire time, one hand on his knee and the other massaging his ankle. Jimin bites his lip. The coach approaches him, but Yoongi waves him off. Jimin stays as the stands empty out, watches as Yoongi heads over to the locker room but merely stands in the doorway, face hidden from sight as he gently rolls his ankle.
Jimin waits until it’s just the two of them before he heads down, grabbing his poster as an afterthought. He walks across the court, shoes only slightly squeaking, and comes to a stop just in front of the awning over the locker room entrance. “Is it sprained?”
Yoongi looks up so fast Jimin wonders if he’s hurt his neck. They just look at each other for a moment-it feels like an eternity to Jimin-and then he speaks. “I think so.”
“You shouldn’t have kept playing,” Jimin mutters, and then watches as Yoongi’s expression darkens to a scowl. “I mean! You did a great job but, maybe, it wouldn’t be as bad if you had laid off of it for a while?”
“You think so? And what authority do you have?”
“I’m an exercise science major,” Jimin says, now on auto-pilot, “I did a project on basketball injuries last year.”
Yoongi laughs and Jimin breathes out a sigh of relief. “Well isn’t that convenient? So, Mr. Expert, what do you suggest?”
Jimin blinks, feeling as though he’s a deer caught in headlights. “Ice?”
“Ice it is,” Yoongi agrees readily, pushing off the wall and wavering a little before Jimin rushes forward and wraps an arm around his waist to steady him, surprised to find they’re about the same height-Yoongi always looks so much bigger on court. He starts when he sees the amused expression aimed at him and turns away, face heating up.
“I’m sorry, you don’t even know who I am and-“
Yoongi interrupts him with a laugh. “Of course I know who you are.” He nods towards the sign. “You’re my biggest fan, I think I’ve seen you at every single game. You know, the rest of my team is jealous; they don’t have anyone nearly as dedicated as you are.” He chuckles as Jimin makes a dying noise in his throat. “So, are you going to help me or not?”
Jimin nods and they head forward into the locker room. He makes sure Yoongi is sat down on a bench before hunting for ice-the rest of the team is gone, there’s only the two of them in there-and after finding it, fills a sizeable bag before heading back. Yoongi’s already got his shoe off and gratefully accepts the bag. He smiles and points to the forgotten poster by the door, and Jimin darts off to grab it before sitting on the bench across from Yoongi. They sit in silence as Yoongi determines the best way to fold the bag of ice.
“You’ll need help getting back to your room,” Jimin states, holding his poster to his chest.
“Okay,” Yoongi says, “I accept your help.”
Jimin stutters in surprise, earning another laugh. Yoongi suggests they leave after he’s done being embarrassed, so that he doesn’t have to stay in his sweaty uniform any longer. Jimin hops back up, pulling Yoongi up by his waist and almost jumping out of his skin when a clammy arm is thrown around his neck in return. They pause so that Yoongi can throw the bag of ice into the trash and grab Jimin’s poster.
They’re barely out of the building before Yoongi says, “So, you obviously know my name,” Jimin doubts he can turn any redder, “but I realize that I don’t know yours.”
“It’s Jimin,” he mutters, pausing as Yoongi slows to hobble up the steps.
Yoongi reaches the top of the stairs and gives Jimin a smile so bright that he feels the breath catch in his throat. “Nice to finally meet you, Jimin.”
-
At the next game, Jimin has a new sign. It’s bigger, pinker, and more sparkly than the last, and in big letters reads, You’re The Only One I See, #93 with exactly ten exclamation points. He cheers louder than anyone else when Yoongi blocks a beefy opponent from stealing the ball, and he’s the first out of his seat when the timer hits zero and their team takes the court.
And then Jimin watches as Yoongi looks right at him, smiles, and makes a heart with his hands. Jimin can almost see him mouthing Thank you, but he can’t be sure, not when he can hear his heart pounding in his ears and his can’t feel the ground beneath his feet.
When he finally goes to leave, he’s stopped at the doors by someone yanking on his arm. He turns and there’s Yoongi, standing right there, ridiculously bright smile on his face. “Hey Jimin,” he chirps, out of breath, “aren’t you going to walk me home?”
Jimin can only nod stupidly as Yoongi beams and drags him towards the locker room.
For crasesnoster
Jimin/Yoongi, 1490, G
Jimin watches Yoongi play basketball. A little too often.
Jimin’s the only one who sees it when it happens.
Yoongi’s on defense while his team has the ball, blocking an opponent when the taller player spins on his heel. Yoongi follows the motion-he’s really great, Jimin has to admit, he’s watched him time and time again mimic movements on the fly so that his targets are well and truly cut off, no matter the size difference-but this time it’s just a little too fast for him. His ankle goes out from under him and he falls, landing on his hands and knees. Jimin stands up in the bleachers, joining half the student body already standing, and watches with a critical eye as Yoongi pushes himself back onto his feet before anyone else can notice (Jimin doesn’t miss the slight limp as he goes back to his mark).
For the rest of the game, Jimin’s eyes are trained on Yoongi-as if they weren’t already-but this time the conspicuous sign hangs at his side instead of high in the air, over his head as he cheers.
So it’s like this.
Jimin really isn’t into sports, not at all, but one day during freshman year he’d been bored out of his mind-no friends yet, no pressing homework, nothing to do. But there had been a basketball game going on in the gym. So, he’d yanked on some clothes, careful not to wake his roommate, and trekked across campus so that he could kill time. And that was the first time he’d seen Yoongi-a freshman like himself, not a starter like he is now-halfway through the game, streaking from one side of the court to the other almost faster than Jimin could keep track and it was well and truly love at first sight. He barely knows anything about the boy, only that he’s number #93 and he’s got the nicest ass Jimin’s ever seen.
Jimin has never missed a game, and one time near the end of his first year his friends had gotten him drunk and convinced him that it was a great idea to make a sign for Yoongi that he could bring to games-it’s utterly hideous, on bright pink poster paper. There’s even glitter at the corners, and big bubbly letters that say, Let’s Go, #93 with way more exclamation marks than necessary. His friends had been rooting for, I Love You, #93!!! but Jimin wasn’t quite drunk enough for that.
Anyway, he’s never missed a game, and he’s always in the stands near the back with his gaudy pink sign, shamelessly cheering on a man who doesn’t know he exists. The sign’s a little older now, they’re both juniors and Yoongi’s a starter now, the crease marks threatening to rip the paper but Jimin still carries it along with him.
He’s half-heartedly shaking it now, as Yoongi hobbles off court for halftime, and Jimin watches with a critical eye as the coach comes around to all the players. They’ve gotta take him out, he realizes with a hint of sadness, if he keeps playing he’ll just aggravate the injury. But the coach merely gives Yoongi a pat on the back before moving over to yell at the offensive players. Jimin can’t believe it.
The third quarter starts and Yoongi looks a little better, spinning on the balls of his feet to keep up with a particularly fast player, but then it all goes downhill in the last quarter when Yoongi loses his balance, careens into an opponent, and they both go down. The ref announces a penalty, but Yoongi gets back up albeit slower than before, and keeps at it.
The game ends with a narrow win for their school, and Jimin cheers along with everyone else as the players take the court, soaking up the victory before heading back to the locker room. Yoongi stays on the bench the entire time, one hand on his knee and the other massaging his ankle. Jimin bites his lip. The coach approaches him, but Yoongi waves him off. Jimin stays as the stands empty out, watches as Yoongi heads over to the locker room but merely stands in the doorway, face hidden from sight as he gently rolls his ankle.
Jimin waits until it’s just the two of them before he heads down, grabbing his poster as an afterthought. He walks across the court, shoes only slightly squeaking, and comes to a stop just in front of the awning over the locker room entrance. “Is it sprained?”
Yoongi looks up so fast Jimin wonders if he’s hurt his neck. They just look at each other for a moment-it feels like an eternity to Jimin-and then he speaks. “I think so.”
“You shouldn’t have kept playing,” Jimin mutters, and then watches as Yoongi’s expression darkens to a scowl. “I mean! You did a great job but, maybe, it wouldn’t be as bad if you had laid off of it for a while?”
“You think so? And what authority do you have?”
“I’m an exercise science major,” Jimin says, now on auto-pilot, “I did a project on basketball injuries last year.”
Yoongi laughs and Jimin breathes out a sigh of relief. “Well isn’t that convenient? So, Mr. Expert, what do you suggest?”
Jimin blinks, feeling as though he’s a deer caught in headlights. “Ice?”
“Ice it is,” Yoongi agrees readily, pushing off the wall and wavering a little before Jimin rushes forward and wraps an arm around his waist to steady him, surprised to find they’re about the same height-Yoongi always looks so much bigger on court. He starts when he sees the amused expression aimed at him and turns away, face heating up.
“I’m sorry, you don’t even know who I am and-“
Yoongi interrupts him with a laugh. “Of course I know who you are.” He nods towards the sign. “You’re my biggest fan, I think I’ve seen you at every single game. You know, the rest of my team is jealous; they don’t have anyone nearly as dedicated as you are.” He chuckles as Jimin makes a dying noise in his throat. “So, are you going to help me or not?”
Jimin nods and they head forward into the locker room. He makes sure Yoongi is sat down on a bench before hunting for ice-the rest of the team is gone, there’s only the two of them in there-and after finding it, fills a sizeable bag before heading back. Yoongi’s already got his shoe off and gratefully accepts the bag. He smiles and points to the forgotten poster by the door, and Jimin darts off to grab it before sitting on the bench across from Yoongi. They sit in silence as Yoongi determines the best way to fold the bag of ice.
“You’ll need help getting back to your room,” Jimin states, holding his poster to his chest.
“Okay,” Yoongi says, “I accept your help.”
Jimin stutters in surprise, earning another laugh. Yoongi suggests they leave after he’s done being embarrassed, so that he doesn’t have to stay in his sweaty uniform any longer. Jimin hops back up, pulling Yoongi up by his waist and almost jumping out of his skin when a clammy arm is thrown around his neck in return. They pause so that Yoongi can throw the bag of ice into the trash and grab Jimin’s poster.
They’re barely out of the building before Yoongi says, “So, you obviously know my name,” Jimin doubts he can turn any redder, “but I realize that I don’t know yours.”
“It’s Jimin,” he mutters, pausing as Yoongi slows to hobble up the steps.
Yoongi reaches the top of the stairs and gives Jimin a smile so bright that he feels the breath catch in his throat. “Nice to finally meet you, Jimin.”
-
At the next game, Jimin has a new sign. It’s bigger, pinker, and more sparkly than the last, and in big letters reads, You’re The Only One I See, #93 with exactly ten exclamation points. He cheers louder than anyone else when Yoongi blocks a beefy opponent from stealing the ball, and he’s the first out of his seat when the timer hits zero and their team takes the court.
And then Jimin watches as Yoongi looks right at him, smiles, and makes a heart with his hands. Jimin can almost see him mouthing Thank you, but he can’t be sure, not when he can hear his heart pounding in his ears and his can’t feel the ground beneath his feet.
When he finally goes to leave, he’s stopped at the doors by someone yanking on his arm. He turns and there’s Yoongi, standing right there, ridiculously bright smile on his face. “Hey Jimin,” he chirps, out of breath, “aren’t you going to walk me home?”
Jimin can only nod stupidly as Yoongi beams and drags him towards the locker room.