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The first thing people noticed about Kim Namjoon was that he didn’t belong to the word quiet not really.
He moved quietly, sure. Sat in the back rows of lecture halls, spoke only when needed, kept his headphones on like a permanent fixture. But there was nothing quiet about the way attention bent toward him anyway.
Maybe it was too tall to blend in. Maybe it was the shoulders, broad and unintentional. Or the way his glasses slipped down his nose when he read, like something out of a cliché he never asked to be part of.
Because Namjoon was, undeniably, a nerd. Top of his class in literature and philosophy, a research assistant to two professors, the kind of person who spent Friday nights annotating texts and arguing with himself in the margins.
Yet he was annoyingly unfairly… hot.
He didn’t try to be. That was the problem.
It was a late afternoon when it happened, the kind where the sun sat low enough to turn everything gold, the campus pathways glowing softly under scattered leaves.
Namjoon had a stack of books tucked against his chest, his bag slung carelessly over one shoulder. He was halfway through mentally drafting an essay on existentialism, his brows furrowed in quiet concentration as he walked toward the library.
He didn’t see the blur of movement coming from the opposite direction. And the blur didn’t see him either.The collision was sudden. Suddenly, books scattered across the pavement.
Namjoon stumbled back slightly, arms instinctively reaching out—too late to stop the impact but just in time to steady the person who had crashed into him.
“Shit… I’m so sorry, I didn’t….”
The words died in his throat.Because the person in front of him wasn’t just anyone.
Park Jimin looked like he had stepped out of a completely different world.
He was delicate in build, dressed in soft practice clothes, a loose cardigan slipping off one shoulder, fitted black pants that emphasized long, graceful lines. His hair was slightly damp, probably from rehearsal, strands sticking to his forehead.
And his eyes told another story.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Jimin said quickly, voice breathless, already crouching to gather the fallen books. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, I had rehearsal and I was late and….”
“It’s okay,” Namjoon said, a little too fast.
He crouched down too, reaching for a book at the same time Jimin did.
Their hands brushed it briefly. Accidental, but it stayed.
Jimin froze for a second, then quickly pulled his hand back, cheeks flushing faintly. “Sorry.”
Namjoon cleared his throat. “No, it’s- it’s fine.”
They continued picking up the books, though the air between them had shifted into something… aware.
Namjoon couldn’t help but glance at him again.
Up close, Jimin was even more… striking.
Not in the conventional sense though he was beautiful, that was undeniable but in the way he carried himself. There was a softness to him, a fluidity, like every movement was part of an unseen choreography.
“You’re heading to the library?” Jimin asked, stacking the last of the books and handing them back.
“Yeah.”
Jimin smiled, small but warm. “Figures.”
Namjoon blinked. “What?”
“You look like the library type,” Jimin said, then immediately looked like he regretted it. “I mean-.... not in a bad way. Just like smart- …. You look smart.” he cursed himself that he kind of stuttered.
Namjoon huffed out a quiet laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “ oh it is,” Jimin said quickly.
“I’m Jimin,” he added.
“Namjoon.”
“I know.”
Namjoon raised a brow.
Jimin shifted slightly, suddenly shy. “You’re kind of… well-known. In the academic building.”
“Oh,” Namjoon said, unsure what to do with that.
Jimin smiled again, softer this time. “In a good way.”
There was something about the way he said it that made Namjoon’s chest feel oddly tight.
“Well,” Namjoon said, adjusting the books in his arms, “you’re also pretty well known.”
Jimin blinked. “I am?”... “Well you are from the dance department,” Namjoon said. Jimin let out a small laugh, ducking his head. “I guess that’s fair.”
“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked suddenly. “You ran into me pretty hard.”
“I’m fine,” Jimin said, though he rubbed his arm absentmindedly. “Occupational hazard.”
“Running into people?”
“Running everywhere,” Jimin corrected with a grin.
Namjoon smiled back, before he could stop himself.
And something about that about how easy it felt made both of them hesitate again.
“Um,” Jimin said, stepping back slightly. “I should go. I have to… shower and then probably collapse.”
“Right. Yeah. Library,” Namjoon said, lifting the books slightly as if to prove his point.
Jimin nodded.
“Hey,” he said, almost as an afterthought.
Namjoon looked up.
Jimin tilted his head, studying him for a moment before smiling, a little more boldly this time. “Try not to walk into anyone else.”
Namjoon scoffed lightly. “You ran into me.”
The thing about chance encounters is that they rarely feel like chance afterward.
Namjoon found himself thinking about Jimin more than he should have.
At first, it was just… passing thoughts.
The way Jimin moved. The way he spoke. The way his fingers had brushed Namjoon’s.
But then it became something else. A distraction.
He’d be in the middle of reading and suddenly remember the curve of Jimin’s smile. He’d catch himself staring out of windows instead of focusing on lectures.
It was… inconvenient.
Namjoon wasn’t the type to get distracted by people.
Jimin felt like a question he didn’t know how to answer.
For Jimin, it was worse.
Because Jimin lived in a world built on feeling.
Dance didn’t allow for detachment. It demanded emotion, connection, vulnerability.
Every time he moved, there was a new thought threading through him.
Namjoon.
The way he had looked at him steady, attentive, like he was actually listening.
The way his voice had softened mid sentence.
The way his hands had felt warm, grounding.
Jimin had always been aware of bodies.
It was part of his training.
But Namjoon’s presence felt different. It felt safe
They didn’t see each other again for a week.
Not because they avoided it.
Just… timing.
Until they actually did….
“Careful.”
The voice came from behind him just as Jimin nearly walked into someone again.
He stopped short, turning quickly.
Namjoon stood there, one hand half-raised like he had been about to steady him.
Jimin blinked. “Are you following me?”
Namjoon smirked slightly. “You wish.”
Jimin laughed, relief and something else mixed together. “Okay, that’s fair.”
They stood there for a moment, both clearly aware that this wasn’t just coincidence anymore.
“Library again?” Jimin asked.
“Always,” Namjoon said. “You?”
“Studio.”
“Always,” Namjoon echoed.
Jimin smiled.
“Walk with me?” Namjoon said, surprising even himself.
Jimin didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”
It became a thing after that.
They’d meet. Sometimes by accident. Sometimes not.
Walk and talk together.
Namjoon would tell Jimin about the books he was reading, explaining concepts with a quiet intensity that made Jimin watch him more than listen.
Jimin would talk about dance not in technical terms, but in feelings. What it meant to move, to express, to lose yourself completely.
They were… opposites.
And yet, somehow, they understood each other in ways that didn’t make sense.
“You think too much,” Jimin said once, leaning back on his hands as they sat on the grass.
“And you don’t think enough,” Namjoon replied.
Jimin grinned. “That’s why this works.”
Namjoon didn’t ask what this was.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to define it yet.
The first time Namjoon saw Jimin dance, it ruined him a little.
Jimin had mentioned a rehearsal.
Namjoon had shown up, lingering in the back of the studio, unsure if he should be there.
But then the music started.
Jimin became something else entirely.
Every movement was precise but effortless, controlled but free. He moved like the music lived inside him, like he was translating something invisible into something real.
Namjoon couldn’t look away, not that he couldn’t but he didn’t.
It was… beautiful.
Painfully so.
When it ended, Jimin’s eyes flickered toward the back of the room.
Towards him.
“You came,” Jimin said later, slightly breathless, a towel draped around his neck.
“Yeah.”
Jimin studied him. “Well?”
Namjoon hesitated.
He wasn’t good with… this kind of thing.
With emotions that didn’t fit neatly into words.
So he said it anyway.
“You make it look like breathing.”
Jimin blinked.
Namjoon exhaled slowly. “Like it’s not something you think about. Like it just… is.”
There was a pause.
Then Jimin smiled soft, almost vulnerable.
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Namjoon felt his chest tighten.
“Good,” he said quietly.
The shift happened slowly.
A touch that lingered too long. A look that meant too much.
The space between them shrinking until it felt… intentional.
“You’re staring,” Jimin said, not looking up from where he was stretching.
Namjoon didn’t deny it. “I know.”
Jimin glanced at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Why?”
Namjoon considered lying.
“Because I like you.”
Jimin stilled.
The air changed.
“You- ” he started, then stopped. “You mean…”
“I mean,” Namjoon said, voice steady despite the tension in his chest, “I like you.”
Jimin swallowed.
For a moment, he looked like he might run.
Instead…..He stood up slowly, stepping closer.
Close enough that Namjoon could see every detail of his expression.
“You took your time,” Jimin said softly.
Namjoon blinked. “What?”
Jimin smiled, just a little. “I’ve liked you since you let me crash into you and didn’t get mad.”
Namjoon let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“That was a week ago.”
Jimin tilted his head. “Exactly.”
Namjoon laughed quietly, disbelieving.
Jimin reached out.
His fingers brushed against Namjoon’s wrist, light but intentional.
“Still thinking too much?” he asked.
Namjoon shook his head slightly.
“No,” he said.
Jimin stepped closer.
Namjoon met him halfway.
And when they kissed it felt like something that had been building long before either of them realized it.
Flashback to when jimin started liking him
First year.
Jimin still remembered it too clearly.
Everything had felt too big back then the campus, the studios, the expectations pressing into his ribs like something sharp and constant. He had been good, yes, but university was different. Everyone was good.
Everyone was better.
He spent most of his time in the dance building, stretching until his muscles burned, repeating routines until his feet ached, chasing a kind of perfection that always felt just out of reach.
And on the days when it got too much he would leave…to breathe fresh air.
That was how he found the library.
It wasn’t his space. It never would be. Too quiet, too still, too… thinking heavy for someone like him.
But it was calm.
And that was where he saw him for the first time.
Namjoon sat near the tall windows, sunlight spilling across the table in front of him. There was a stack of books beside him too many to be casual and a notebook open, filled with messy handwriting and crossed out lines.
His glasses rested low on his nose, his lips moving faintly as if he was reading something under his breath.
Jimin had paused without meaning to because he didn't know why.
Maybe it was the way Namjoon seemed so… grounded. Like he belonged exactly where he was, like the chaos of the outside world didn’t reach him here.
Jimin had watched for a moment longer than necessary.
Until Namjoon suddenly looked up, their eyes met. Jimin suddenly froze.
Namjoon blinked once, clearly caught off guard, but there was no annoyance there. Just curiosity but Jimin panicked by then so he turned away immediately, pretending to scan the shelves, his heart beating a little too fast for something so small.
Jimin told himself, it was just a one time thing. But it kept happening over and over again like a pattern.
Jimin would come to the library on days when rehearsal drained him dry, telling himself it was just for quiet, just for space.
And Namjoon would be there.
Always somewhere different sometimes by the windows, sometimes tucked into a corner but always with books, always with that same focused expression.
Jimin never approached him, he didn’t have a reason to. Because he didn’t even know him or his name.
Instead, he watched from a distance, stealing glances when he thought Namjoon wouldn’t notice.
Namjoon did notice.
Jimin realized that one afternoon when he looked up and found Namjoon already looking at him.
Not in a way that called him out.
Jimin looked away again, cheeks warm, but this time he didn’t leave immediately.
And neither did Namjoon.
Weeks turned into months.
They never spoke, but they existed in the same space, over and over again, like orbiting bodies that never quite collided.
Jimin learned things about him without trying.
The way he tapped his pen when he was thinking.
The way he pushed his hair back when he got frustrated.
The way he sometimes leaned back in his chair, staring at nothing, like he was somewhere else entirely.
And slowly Jimin started to look for him. Like having a small crush, everywhere, at the library, across the campus , in the lecture halls where he did not belong, between buildings.
And every time he saw him, something inside him shifted inside him, like admiration. Initially he said it would just go away but it didn't. It was something that didn’t make sense, because he didn’t know what that feeling was.
Namjoon lived in a world of words and thoughts and quiet understanding.
Jimin lived in movement and emotion and expression.
But it was that time, until the third year, until he ran into him again….
Present
Jimin lay on his back in the studio, staring up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling slowly as he tried to steady his breathing.
Namjoon sat beside him, legs stretched out, one hand behind him as he looked over.
“You’re thinking too much again,” Namjoon said quietly.
Jimin let out a small laugh. “That’s your thing, not mine.”
“And yet.”
Jimin turned his head, meeting his gaze.
There was something different now.Because they weren’t strangers anymore.
They were… this. Whatever this was.
“You know,” Jimin said slowly, “that wasn’t actually the first time I saw you.”
Namjoon frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
Jimin hesitated for a while because he had kept this to himself for so long, it felt strange to let it out.
But Namjoon waited for him to continue.
So Jimin pushed himself up, sitting cross legged as he faced him.
“First year,” he said. “In the library.”
Namjoon blinked. “I don’t remember…”
“You wouldn’t,” Jimin said with a small smile. “I never talked to you.”
Namjoon studied him, something curious flickering in his eyes. “You just… watched me?”
Jimin groaned, covering his face briefly. “That sounds so creepy when you say it like that.”
“It is a little creepy,” Namjoon said, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.
Jimin dropped his hands, pouting slightly. “I was having a hard time, okay? And you looked… calm. Like you had everything figured out.”
Namjoon let out a soft huff. “I absolutely did not have anything figured out.”
“Yeah, well,” Jimin said, “you looked like you did.”
“And?” Namjoon asked.
Jimin’s fingers fidgeted in his lap.
“And I kept coming back,” he admitted. “To the library. Not just for the quiet.”
Namjoon’s gaze sharpened slightly. “For me?”
Jimin nodded once, small but certain.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said softly. “It just… happened.”
Namjoon didn’t speak right away.
Jimin couldn’t read his expression, and for a brief moment, doubt crept in. Maybe this was too much, maybe he should’ve kept it to himself.
“That’s funny,” Namjoon said as he laughed softly.
Jimin blinked. “What is?”
Namjoon leaned back slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I remember noticing someone.”
“What?” Jimin’s breath caught.
“First year,” Namjoon continued. “In the library. A dancer, I think. You were always stretching in the corner, like you couldn’t sit still.”
Jimin stared at him. “You noticed that?”
Namjoon nodded. “Hard not to.”
There was something warm in his voice now.
Something that settled into Jimin’s chest.
“I thought you were… out of place,” Namjoon admitted. “But in a good way.”
Jimin let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “So we were both just… watching each other like idiots?”
“Seems like it.”
They both smiled.
And for a moment, it felt like time folded in on itself first year and third year colliding just like they had, messy and unexpected but somehow… right.
Jimin shifted closer, his knee brushing against Namjoon’s.
“So technically,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “I liked you first.”
Namjoon raised a brow. “Is that a competition?”
“Maybe.” Jimin said softly.
Namjoon hummed, pretending to think. “I don’t know. I think I win.”
Jimin scoffed. “On what basis?”
“You ran into me,” Namjoon said simply.
Jimin rolled his eyes. “That was an accident.”
“Was it?” Namjoon asked, a teasing note slipping into his voice.
“Okay maybe not.”
Namjoon reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against Jimin’s hand, familiar now, intentionally.
“Then I’m glad you did,” he said quietly.
Jimin’s heart flipped, just for a second.
He leaned in slightly, their foreheads almost touching.
“Me too,” he whispered.
They leaned closer and their lips touched. They kissed softly, Namjoon’s hand slowly went behind Jimin’s hair and held it and pulled him close. They took their time.
It wasn’t just the beginning, it was the continuation of something that had started long ago, in quiet glances and shared spaces and unspoken feelings.
Finally it was Just them.