The request came after they’d finished shoving as many oversized pink hoodies and Shin Ramyun cups as they could fit into Jin’s suitcase. Jin sat on it to keep it closed while Jimin struggled with the zipper and luggage straps. He was so fully preoccupied with this task that he barely heard Jin say, “By the way, while I’m gone I need you to do me a favour-”
“We need to take the ramyun out,” Jimin huffed, shaking his head. “It’s not gonna close.”
“Absolutely not,” said Jin, his handsome face instantly darkening.
Oops. Jimin changed tactics. “Okay. A hoodie, then.”
“I’ll get cold.”
“Push harder,” Jin instructed, ignoring the sarcasm.
“It’s not gonna work.”
“Just do it.”
“I said, harder.”
“I’m doing my best!”
“Harder, Park Jimin.”
“Stop,” he said again, trying not to giggle. Somehow he managed to pull the zipper fully across the bulging suitcase at last, and stood up in triumph, dusting his hands off. “There! Watch out for projectile ramyun cups when you open it in the jungle. You might lose an eye.”
Jin patted him on the head, like he was petting a dog. “Thanks.”
Jimin wrinkled his nose - just so Jin didn’t start thinking he liked being treated like a pet. Which he didn’t. Not at all. Jin smiled handsomely at him, and for the thousandth time Jimin wondered what it was like to be so good-looking you had people falling over themselves to do your bidding.
“So I was saying-”
“Are you sure they’ll let you through customs with all those chemicals?” Jimin asked, eyeing the suitcase. “You could try eating snake instead. I heard that’s a delicacy over there.”
“Shut up for a second, I’m talking.”
“What about him?”
“I really don’t trust him not to throw a party the second I’m gone.”
“Oh.” Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“It’s only three weeks, but I need this apartment to be in one piece when I get back, I still have two years of graduate school to finish.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
Jin looked at him darkly. “Trust me.”
“Jimin.” Jin came closer, right up into his personal space - whoa, his eyelashes were long - and placed both his hands on Jimin’s shoulders. Jimin cleared his throat, suddenly very aware of the difference in size between them. “Listen to me.”
“I’m listening.” He was trying to, anyway, but it was hard when he was eye-level with Jin’s shoulders, which were very broad, and also had a perfect view of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he talked.
“I’m worried about him,” Jin said, in a rare moment of seriousness.
Jimin tried to stay focused. “Why?”
“Yoongi has some issues. It’s a long story.”
“Just do me a favour and check up on him, okay? I don’t want him to be alone for three weeks.”
“But you just said he’d throw a party and wreck the place,” Jimin pointed out, frowning. “That’s kind of the opposite of being alone.”
“I don’t know for sure what he’ll do,” Jin replied. “It could go either way.”
“I’ll tell him you’re coming over to water the plants.”
“You don’t have plants,” Jimin pointed out.
“I bought one yesterday.”
“Just for this?”
“I guess so,” said Jimin, still uncertain. “Won’t it be weird, though? Is he gonna be mad?”
“Don’t listen to the rumours,” Jin replied. “Yoongi isn’t that scary.” Rumours? Scary? Jimin blinked. He knew nothing about Jin’s roommate, had never met him, only knew his name from hearing Jin saying it from time to time. “Just tell him I’ll kick his ass when I get back if he does anything stupid, and he’ll stop. His name isn’t on the lease, mine is, so he knows not to push me too far.”
“I don’t know--”
Despite his reservations, Jimin relented and agreed. He only had to come by on the weekend, anyway, just to make sure the (apparently) infamous Min Yoongi wasn’t destroying Jin’s home.
“You’re a good kid, Jimin,” said Jin, beaming. His hands moved from Jimin’s shoulders to his neck, where they started massaging in little circles. “You know that?”
Jimin blushed a little, always weak to praise - and massages. It was stupid and it didn’t mean anything, but he still felt himself soaking up the positive attention like a starving plant.
The party was in full swing by the time Jimin arrived. He didn’t need to use the key Jin had left with him - the door was wide open. Music blasted from within, mixing with the sound of voices and laughter and the clink of bottles.
Jin was going to be pissed.
He winced a little - there were more people than he’d thought it possible to fit into the apartment, and all of them were in varying stages of drunkenness. He stared at the mass of bodies, at a complete loss. They hadn’t discussed this part - what Jimin was supposed to do if Yoongi really did throw a party.
With a sinking heart, he came to another realization: even if he wanted to go up to Min Yoongi and say, “You’re in trouble, Jin is going to kill you-” he wouldn’t be able to, seeing as he had no idea which one of these people was the roommate in question.
Jimin half-wished he’d taken up on Taehyung’s offer to accompany him now, but Taehyung had prefaced it with a comment about how Jimin was a total sucker for a pretty face. He’d taken exception to that and still felt pissy about it. As if Taehyung hadn’t drooled repeatedly over Jin’s shoulders himself, the hypocrite.
Tentatively, he stepped into the fray, feeling stupid and small and reckless. He didn’t know any of these people. He didn’t go to parties like this. This wasn’t his apartment at stake. But he felt responsible, anyway. Jin had asked him to do a Thing, even if it was a Thing he really didn’t have hope of accomplishing - and Jimin figured he ought to at least check out the situation.
Idiot. Get out of here. You’re gonna be eaten alive.
He'd just have a quick look around before running away. Then he'd have a clear conscience and be able to report to Jin what he'd witnessed, even if damage control was out of the question. Yeah. That was the best course of action.
Taking a deep breath, he walked into the living room. It was dark and noisy and smelled weird because of all the people smoking. The smell was definitely going to sink into the carpet and curtains and Jin was going to be pissed about that.
No one noticed his arrival. They were all too busy getting high.
Which one of them was Min Yoongi? Five people sat on the sofa, piled on each other’s laps, and there were even more people standing around, all of them trying to talk over the music. One extremely baked freshman was playing catch using a Super Mario figurine Jimin recognized as the prized jewel of Jin’s collection. Shit. He cringed as it missed the mark and crashed to the ground with a distinctive crack.
Someone went, “Awwwwww!” and other voices boo’ed and laughed. The idiot who had thrown it grinned and spun around towards the shelf behind Jin’s tv, grabbing something else to resume his game. He lifted it above his head, and said in a deep voice, “READY?”
Jimin took a step back.
“Put that down,” said a voice, from somewhere behind Jimin. It cut through the hum of party noise, as easily as a knife through butter. A thrill went down Jimin’s spine at the timbre of it - deep, raspy, and extremely commanding. It was the kind of voice that made you stop and listen (and on occasion, drop to your knees) -
The drunken boy already had the thing held aloft above his head - it was shiny and large and caught the dim light, some kind of trophy. He smirked and did was he was told. He let go. There was a sudden hush in the room, as if everyone realised something bad was happening, even if they were stoned out of their minds.
Without thinking - acting purely on instinct and quick reflexes he didn’t know he had - Jimin reached forward, arm outstretched... and caught the trophy in the palm of his hand.
The quiet lasted another five seconds.
“Good catch-” said that same intriguing voice, breaking the spell.
Jimin turned, slowly, to see who it belonged to.
He took in the pale face and torn jeans and bleached blonde hair and found himself so captivated by everything he momentarily forgot where he was. A pair of dreamy dark eyes met his own. He got lost in them, didn’t notice the lips beneath them moving.
Jimin blinked. “Huh?”
“I said, thanks.” A smirk lifted the corner of that mouth.
“Oh. Y-you’re welcome.” Jimin handed him the trophy, embarrassed to be caught staring.
Someone yelled, “Suga!” and the blond stranger’s head turned, distracted. Ignoring the pang of disappointment in his chest, Jimin took advantage of the situation and bolted, telling himself that boys like that were no good, anyway.
What did I say? You sucker.
Taehyung’s voice taunted him from wherever he was, mocking even in his own head. He scowled, feeling a hot blush of shame - was he really that easy? - and tried to picture Jin’s face instead. Jin, who had always been Jimin’s ideal man, his beauty wholesome and pure. Jin, who had sent him here on a mission, not to have his head turned by a pretty face.
The kitchen was the next place he thought to try. It seemed safer than the living room, anyway, there were less people in there. He soon figured out why: because someone had puked on the floor. That someone was apparently trying to clean it up - very poorly - by laying a discarded flannel shirt over the general area of the vomit. Jimin watched in genuine horror, and slowly realised he recognized the back of that head. He saw it a lot from the very back of the small practice room he went to every wednesday night and had spent a lot of time both admiring it and resenting it for being so talented. It was the president of the Dance Club - Jung Hoseok.
Jimin cleared his throat.
“Uh, I’m not sure-” he said hesitantly, thinking of Jin’s reaction when he returned, “-that’s a good idea.”
“Huh?” Hoseok looked up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
“Maybe, ah,” Jimin tip-toed over the flannel bomb, and grabbed the box of baking soda that sat on the counter next to the gas range. “Could you-”
Hoseok grimaced, but obliged, using two fingers to gingerly lift the tainted garment. He pinched his nose with his other hand, watching as Jimin emptied the contents of the box onto the mess.
“There. That’ll make it easier to clean up later.”
The dance club president seemed impressed. “Handy trick.”
Taehyung puked a lot. He had a tendency of gorging himself on strawberries every summer, and as a kid he’d had a very sensitive digestive tract. Those two things didn’t mix. Jimin was used to it.
“I’m Hoseok.” Jimin received a friendly smile.
“I know,” Jimin said, trying to keep his disappointment in check. “I’m in the dance club.”
“Oh,” said Hoseok brightly, “That’s right, that’s why you look so familiar-” (He was lying, of course, his face said it all: he totally had no idea who Jimin was). “I’ve seen you before! Hey. How’s it going?”
“Good,” Jimin lied. “Just, you know, having a good time. At this party.”
Hoseok lifted his bottle. “Cool. Want a drink?” As if drinking hadn’t just led to the unfortunate accident on the floor of Jin’s kitchen.
“Yeah, I, uh, I just had one.”
It suddenly occurred to him that Hoseok probably knew Min Yoongi. He wouldn’t be at this party otherwise. Which meant Jimin could ask him for help.
As casually as possible, he licked his lips and tested his theory with, “So. Have you seen Yoongi?”
“You know Yoongi?” Hoseok looked surprised.
“Sort of. I, uh, know his roommate.” That was the truth, at least. “Have you- um, seen him? I need to ask him something.”
“I think I saw him going to the bathroom.”
“Oh, okay - thanks.” Jimin fidgeted awkwardly for a moment, before flashing Hoseok a timid smile. “I’m just gonna go-”
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Hoseok said, regarding Jimin doubtfully. “Yoongi’s kind of in a bad mood, tonight. Why don’t you tell me what you want to know, and I’ll ask him for you-”
“No, no, it’s cool, I can handle myself,” Jimin said quickly, even as he felt his stomach clench in anxiety. Min Yoongi was in a bad mood? Hoseok gave him another look, this time full of concern. “Really, I can. Thanks again. See you at - um - practice.”
He turned and hurried away before Hoseok could protest again.
The bathroom door was locked, and so was the door to Jin’s bedroom - smart, thank god - but the other bedroom wasn’t, and there was no one inside. Jimin slipped into it, closed the door, and sighed into the darkness.
He didn’t want to wait in the hallway for Min Yoongi to emerge. Mostly because he wasn’t alone, and he really didn’t feel like standing there while a couple did everything short of actually having full-on sex against the bathroom door.
Jimin barely had time to sit on the bed when the door opened again.
“This room is off-limits,” said a familiar voice. It was deep and raspy, as if the speaker had been chain-smoking for five hours beforehand.
Jimin stiffened, chanted please not the blonde, please not the blonde please, please, please in his head even though he knew better.
“Hi,” he said weakly. He couldn’t actually see the other person in the room, but there was no mistaking that voice.
“Yeah,” it said in response, sounding bored. What had the others called him? Suga? What kind of name was that, anyway? “Get your ass out of here. I don’t know who you’re waiting to hook up with-”
“-but you can use the other room. There’s a double bed in there. Just don’t leave a wet spot.”
Jimin flinched in horror. Without thinking he blurted out, “But that’s J- I mean… won’t the person who lives there be angry you’re letting people… do stuff… on their bed?”
“What Jin doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
Poor Jin. Jimin was offended on his behalf, and opened his mouth to say something to that effect. His words caught in his throat as Suga reached out and flicked on the light switch. The sudden brightness made Jimin’s eyes water. He blinked, startled-
“Oh. It’s you.” The way he said “you”, as if surprised, made Jimin squirm.
They stared at each other. Suga’s expression was inscrutable. He leaned against the wall, head tilted back, and crossed his arms over his chest.
He drawled, “So what do you want?”
To get out of here, Jimin thought. “What do you mean?”
Suga regarded him for a moment in contemplative silence, eyes narrowing. His gaze was penetrating to say the least. Jimin’s knees felt like jello, and he cursed himself for being weak as Taehyung’s words came back to haunt him again.
You don’t like bad boys, he reminded himself. You like Jin.
Suga asked abruptly, “What’s your name?”
His tongue felt thick. “Jimin.”
“Why’d you come in here?”
“I-I just wanted a bit of peace and quiet,” Jimin said, only half-lying. “To think.”
He definitely was overwhelmed. House parties were definitely not his scene.
He paused. “Stuff.”
“Stuff,” Suga repeated. “Riiiight.”
He rolled his eyes. The tone of his voice made the hackles on the back of Jimin’s neck rise. It sounded disbelieving, but more than that, it sounded dismissive. This was why he liked Jin and not boys like Suga. They were jerks who considered themselves above other people, thought they could be rude just because they bleached their hair every two weeks and looked cool leaning against vertical surfaces.
“You got a problem with that?” he asked, not quite daring to believe he had the nerve to say it aloud.
Suga’s expression didn’t change, but Jimin got the impression of a smirk regardless.
“What do you want?” Jimin felt braver now. “This isn’t your room, and I got here first, s-so-”
Both of those bleached eyebrows lifted, disappearing beneath the overgrown blonde fringe. Jimin stiffened, felt as if he’d been caught in a huge mistake somehow, but tampered the panic down. This was Jin’s apartment, after all. Suga didn’t have any more right to be here than he did.
The staring contest continued. Jimin refused to back down. It went on for so long he began to think he was in some kind of weird second-hand-pot-smoke induced dream.
“What’s your deal?” Suga demanded, at last.
"Why are you interested in Yoongi?”
“You were asking for him. What do you want?”
“Then why are you waiting for him?”
“What? I-I’m not!”
“Sure looks like you are.”
Jimin coughed, pretended to be intrigued by the pattern of the bedspread. “Are those spaceships?” he mumbled.
(Jimin knew, of course, that they were indeed spaceships shaped like bananas being ridden by puppy astronauts. He knew because he himself had given these exact sheets to Jin for christmas. And Min Yoongi, not Jin, was using them. He was a bit hurt.)
“Answer the question.”
Jimin didn’t look up, but he could feel those eyes boring into the side of his face. “What question?”
“Why were you looking for Yoongi?”
He hesitated. “I need to tell him something.”
“None of your business!” he retorted.
Suga snorted. “It’s my business.”
He should have just said, Jin told me to. He didn’t know why he hadn’t to begin with. The secrecy was a mistake, he should have announced to the living room that he was here on behalf of Kim Seokjin and it was his duty to break up the party and send them all home-
Yeah, that would have gone over well.
“Just tell me the truth,” Suga said in a deep voice, making a shiver work it’s way up Jimin’s spine. It was as if Suga could read Jimin’s mind. “I’ll let you off easy, if you just spill now.”
The shiver wasn’t going anywhere. It simply intensified. Unnerved, Jimin insisted, “There’s nothing to tell. There isn’t!”
“Sure,” he drawled. “Whatever you say.” Suga cocked his head. “What I really want to know is who invited you? I don’t know you. I know Yoongi doesn’t. You don’t know anyone here.”
Not completely true. He knew Hoseok. Sort of. “How do you-”
“It’s obvious, kid.”
Half of Jimin wanted to pout, the other half wanted to start spewing lies. He was mortified and self-conscious of the way Suga had seen through him so easily. But it wasn’t particularly surprising, as Jimin wasn’t a good liar and couldn’t act to save his life.
“Tell me what you’re up to, party-crasher, or I’ll tell Yoongi you snuck into his room for nefarious reasons.”
The heat in his cheeks exploded into fire, and his jaw dropped open. “I didn’t-!”
Suga slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone to idly check the screen. “I’ll give you one minute to explain, and then I’m calling him.”
Panic seized Jimin by the throat. “No! Don’t call him!”
He had no idea why. He wasn’t even sure why he was panicking.
“Because,” Jimin muttered, racking his brains for a believable excuse, “Because- you’re right. I’m crashing. He’ll kick me out.”
Suga gave Jimin a thoughtful once-over. A small, strangely sarcastic smile tipped the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from big old scary Min Yoongi.”
“I’m not scared,” Jimin blurted out, flustered. The tension in the room shifted, somehow, the mood changing to something he couldn’t quite name.
“You should be.”
“Min Yoongi is a bastard.”
Jimin opened his mouth to defend someone who was literally a complete stranger to himself, but Suga interrupted brusquely, “Why is your hand bleeding?”
“What?” He looked down. There was a smear of blood on his palm, half-dried. “Oh. It’s from the trophy, I guess.”
“Let me see.”
His head snapped up. “What?”
Suga was already across the room, had made his way to Jimin’s side in less than three long strides. He seized Jimin’s hand in both of his own, turning it over to inspect the less-than-serious injury.
Jimin swallowed. Suga wasn’t tall like Jin, didn’t have Jin’s broad shoulders and unearthly face. He was only about Jimin’s height - short, in other words - and appeared even thinner than he did from afar. But his skin was the fairest, most translucent-looking skin Jimin had ever seen on anyone, ever - and his face was appealing in an unorthodox sort of way. He looked hard and soft at the same time, an interesting combination. And he smelled good. Like, really good.
“Let’s go,” he said suddenly, and closed his veiny hands over Jimin’s wrist. He started pulling Jimin towards the door.
He didn’t answer, simply dragged Jimin down the hall. Hoseok wasn’t in the kitchen anymore, and the vomit was gone, though there was a dark flannel bundle in the corner, half shoved under the fridge.
“Move.” Suga shooed away a couple making out against a kitchen cabinet. They went willingly enough, albeit with annoyed expressions. He opened the cabinet to fetch a first aid kit in a small metal tin from the bottom shelf and set it on the counter.
Jimin stared at it.
“What are you waiting for?”
“Huh?” Jimin blinked. “Oh. Right.”
He ran his hand under the faucet and put a bandage on it. Not really necessary, it wasn’t a deep cut, but Suga kept staring at him and he felt obligated to do something. Under different circumstances, Jimin might have even found it sweet. In a weird, dominating sort of way.
Think of Jin, he told himself.
“Thanks,” he said out loud, though he didn’t know what for.
Suga had backed away from him once he’d gotten the bandage on, and was now leaning against the fridge. He liked doing that. Leaning against things. Crossing his arms over his chest, and giving people that look - that searing, unapologetic look that pierced right through their skins.
Jimin swallowed, wanted to look away, but found himself unable to tear his eyes from the sight.
“Still not ready, huh?”
“Ready for what?”
“To confess,” Suga said, pushing away from the fridge to move towards him once more. “Your intentions.”
Jimin’s stomach did a somersault, and then another, and then another, one for each of Suga’s steps. He was coming way too close for comfort. The concept of personal space seemed to be erased entirely, and Jimin found himself being crowded against the kitchen counter, Suga’s palms on either side of his arms, fingers lightly tapping the surface.
Up close, his face was even more… unreal.
“Honestly,” Suga said slowly, “You’re unbelievable.”
His heart skipped a beat.
“I mean… really? How dumb do you think I am?”
And then, to Jimin’s astonishment, Suga reached out, grabbed something out of his line of sight, and proceeded to smack the back of Jimin’s head. With an oven mitt.
Jimin sputtered indignantly. It didn’t hurt but it was mean.
“Go and report to your master,” Suga smirked. “Tell Jin he needs to pick a better spy next time.”
Apparently you could get wi-fi in the jungle, if you looked hard enough. Jin’s parents (both research biologists) had gotten it set up somehow in the tiny little village they were currently shacked up in. The Skype connection wasn’t great and Jin’s voice was static-y, but his pixelated face (still a thing of great beauty) was nevertheless adamant, insisting at great length: “You have to find out, Jimin. My security deposit is at stake here! Promise me you will.”
He really, really, really didn’t want to.
“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Jimin offered cautiously, fidgeting in his seat.
The pixels re-arranged themselves into a mask of disbelief. “Not that bad? I saw the pictures on facebook.”
Crap. Jimin winced. He’d seen the pictures, too. Jin was currently mourning the loss of a significant portion of his Super Mario collection and was absolutely furious about it. Not much he could do about that, unfortunately. Jimin had tried to see if he could send a friend request to Yoongi and reach him that way, but hadn’t been able to find him online - anywhere. Yoongi didn’t seem to have any social media accounts at all. It was seriously weird.
“Exactly what did Yoongi say when you told him what I said?” Jin demanded.
Jimin squirmed in his seat. “Uh, I… well, he kind of…”
He didn’t know how to tell Jin the truth - that he’d failed to even meet Yoongi, much less give him a warning. He definitely wasn’t going to tell Jin about his spectacularly embarrassing encounter with Yoongi’s friend Suga instead. That pale face and blonde hair loomed in his memory and he tried his hardest to push it away. Jimin had already re-lived it a hundred times in his head since that fateful night and didn’t need to replay it again.
“What?” Jin’s expression turned hard, mistaking Jimin’s hesitance for something much worse. “What did he do? Did he hit you?”
Jimin blinked. “What? No. Nobody hit me, there wasn’t a fight or anything-”
The fierce look softened a bit, or maybe it was just bad lighting. Jin grumbled, “Good. At least he’s not being stupid again.”
Warily, Jimin inquired, “Does he get into a lot of fights?”
“Not many. He just has a temper sometimes.”
It wasn’t very reassuring. Jimin bit his lower lip and thought, You want me to confront a guy who hits people?
“But he’s loyal, I’ll give him credit for that. The last time he punched somebody it was because of me.” Jin sighed heavily. “God, I’m so worried.”
Jimin lived on campus and still got an allowance from his parents. He didn’t know how much a security deposit amounted to, but it obviously was a big deal. “Is it a lot of money?”
There was a pause, and then Jin sighed again. His handsome brow furrowed. “Honestly? It’s not really about the security deposit. I just don’t want him to get into trouble when I’m not there. He’s not well.”
“What do you mean?”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but... you know I trust you-” He stopped again, giving Jimin a meaningful look, as if Jimin was supposed to know what that meant.
“Yoongi has anxiety and depression,” Jin confessed. “It used to be pretty bad. Last year I wouldn’t have left him alone for three days, let alone three weeks. It’s better now, but I’m still worried about him.”
“Oh… I see.”
That, at least, answered one of Jimin’s questions. He hadn’t been able to figure out why they were still living together if Jin mistrusted Min Yoongi to the point of enlisting Jimin to spy on him. But clearly they must be friends, given that Jin cared about Yoongi’s well-being. Or maybe it was more than that… a depressing train of thought, one Jimin decided not to follow.
“I’m still going to kick his ass when I get back, don’t get me wrong,” Jin continued, concern morphing once more into passionate ire. “Which is why I want you to find out what he’s planning next. I want a list of his crimes so I can punish him for all of them, one by one-”
Jimin’s phone vibrated, distracting him from Jin’s ranting. Once he got going, he really went on. Jimin surreptitiously reached out and flipped his phone over, sneaking a peek at the screen. There was a new message from Taehyung, a selfie-
Jimin felt his stomach drop. Taehyung had sent a photo of himself holding a boxed set of limited edition Super Mario figurines, the very same ones Jin had been searching for since their exclusive release. He’d captioned it with fuck yeah Jin’s gonna freak!!!11 maybe he’ll kiss me thank u~~
Over Jimin’s dead body, he would.
His head snapped up. “Sorry,” he said quickly, shoving his phone away. “I was just looking at my schedule. I, uh, I have free time tomorrow, so- I’ll check on Yoongi. If you really want me to.”
“Thanks, Jimin. You’re seriously the best.”
Jin beamed at him. Which almost made it worth it. Almost.
Where in the world was Min Yoongi?
There was only one person he knew who might know. The captain of the dance club - Jung Hoseok.
Jimin didn’t attend every gathering, just the practices, and he doubted his absence was ever noted. After all, he was just a lowly underclassman who didn’t have many friends in the club, and was generally shy in the presence of seniors. He didn’t expect Hoseok to remember him even after their brief chat at Yoongi’s party, but apparently he’d made an impression on the older boy.
“Hey - Jimin, right?”
Hoseok’s smiling was bright, almost blinding. He actually came forward, slapped a hand onto Jimin’s shoulder, and led him over to the table where he was sitting with some of the other popular dancers in the group. All of them looked bored and scary. Jimin was introduced, and then promptly forgotten. He sat in silence, drinking his milkshake, trying to resist the urge to make an excuse to run away. The conversation was mainly about things he didn’t understand or people he didn’t know. He barely listened, until a familiar name came up-
“... and I heard Suga’s gonna perform next week, at Meca-”
“.. whoa, really?”
“Yup. Might get scouted-”
“Haha, yeah right, that’s just wishful talking-”
“What? He’s good, he could totally make it, he’s already kind of popular underground,” Hoseok was saying, looking indignant on Suga’s behalf.
Jimin found himself tuning in, despite himself. Suga was being scouted? He had a gig at a nightclub? Was he some kind of musician?
“Yeah, yeah, you’re his number one fan,” said Hoseok’s friend, rolling her eyes. “You going, then?”
“Yup.” Hoseok grinned.
Hoseok ignored her. He turned towards Jimin and asked, “Oh, did you get to talk to him?”
Jimin frowned, confused and startled by the sudden attention. He very eloquently blurted out, “Huh?”
“You were looking for him, the other night. At the party. Thanks, by the way, for the help with the, uh, you know.”
“Ohhh,” said Jimin, straightening in his seat. Hoseok was talking about Min Yoongi now. It was kind of an abrupt switch in topic, but he wasn’t complaining. This was why he’d come here in the first place. “Uh, yeah, no probs.”
Hoseok grinned, clearly happy Jimin was smart enough not to mention what he’d been helpful with. “You’re in one piece, so I take it Yoongi didn’t eat you alive.”
“I couldn’t find him, actually…” Jimin admitted.
“Really? I definitely saw him go to the bathroom.”
Jimin shrugged, embarrassed by the scrutiny he was now receiving from everyone sitting at the table.
“How do you know him, again?”
“Uh, he’s a friend of a friend,” Jimin said. He kept reminding himself he wasn’t lying, exactly, it was basically the truth, and forced himself to ask in a casual tone, “So… you wouldn’t, uh… happen to know where he’d be later today, would you?”
“Totally. He books the recording studio above the recital hall every tuesday afternoon for an hour. It's first-come-first-serve and that bastard is always first.” Hoseok looked at his watch. “He’s probably there right now.”
Jimin was out of breath by the time he reached the other end of campus. Yoongi’s hour was only half-done, which meant Jimin had some time to stand in front of the recital hall building, planning his next move.
He could go upstairs and knock on the recording studio door - but wouldn’t that be too much? Yoongi was in the middle of doing whatever it was he was doing. It wouldn’t be nice to interrupt, and Yoongi might be annoyed by it. He might get punchy, as Jin had described earlier. Jimin shuddered. No, he’d just wait outside in the hallway until Yoongi finished.
Jimin was about to make good on this plan of action when a familiar head of messy bleached hair appeared through the entrance, pack of smokes in one hand and lighter in the other. He stopped on the steps to light one cig, eyes idly looking towards the gathering clouds in the sky. He didn’t notice Jimin, thank god. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to check. Whatever message he’d received made one blonde eyebrow lift - and he looked up from his phone, seeming to search the scene around him for someone, or something-
Seized by panic, Jimin did the first thing he could think of: he darted behind the corner of the building, holding his breath. When he finally got the courage to sneak a look, Suga had gone back inside.
If Suga was there with Yoongi, Jimin didn’t think he’d survive the both of them. So he retreated. He wasn’t proud of it, but the instinct for self-preservation prevailed.
Time for plan B.
The houseplant - singular, Jin had purchased exactly one - had been dispatched in cold blood on the night of the party. Someone had uploaded a photo of the crime scene onto Jin’s facebook page, and Jimin had a feeling he knew who the perpetrator was.
That meant ' watering the plants ’ was no longer a viable excuse to drop in on the apartment. Of course, Min Yoongi didn’t necessarily know that Jimin knew about the plant murder, he could pretend otherwise, but he was such a bad actor he didn’t think he could get away with it. And Suga probably had told him about Jimin crashing the party, anyway. Yoongi probably knew Jin had eyes on him. That made Jimin’s task a lot harder.
He was still thinking about what to do while studying at the library (multitasking, thank you very much) when something truly horrible happened.
A shadow fell over his table, accompanied by a deep voice, “Heard you were looking for me.”
The bottom of Jimin’s stomach sank fifty feet into the ground. He willed himself to look up, dreading what he’d see. Old leather jacket, worn and comfortable-looking. Ripped black jeans. A vaguely ironic expression, not quite a smile but not exactly a frown, either.
Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. Traitor. He swallowed, managed to squeak out a high-pitched, “What?”
“You were looking for me. Here I am.”
He stared, could only say, “No I wasn’t.”
Suga slid into the seat across from Jimin, making himself at home. He didn’t take up all that much space physically, but his presence definitely dominated whatever place he chose to inhabit. “That’s not what I heard.”
“You heard wrong,” Jimin began weakly, but Suga interrupted him.
“Why are you asking around about me, anyway? You like me or something?”
Jimin sputtered, a red-hot blush searing across his face. “What?!”
Suga shrugged. As if to say, it happens.
“I wasn’t asking around about you! I was asking for- for Min Yoongi! I’m still looking for him!”
Both of Suga’s irritatingly appealing eyebrows lifted. He regarded Jimin for a long, long time, saying nothing, as if he were uncertain of what to make of the declaration. Jimin didn’t know what was so confusing about it - unless Suga was so arrogant he couldn’t believe anyone who met him wasn’t instantly panting for him.
“So what? You like Yoongi, then?” Something about the question sounded like a challenge - or a trap. Jimin fell neatly into it.
“So what if I do?” Jimin said, hoping he sounded cool and assured and mature.
“You don’t have a thing for Min Yoongi,” Suga laughed. “He’s not your type.”
“How do you know?”
“Please. You’ve never even met him.”
Jimin’s mouth fell open. “How do you know I’ve never-”
“You don’t even know what he looks like.”
“Give me a break, kid. Yoongi knows just as well as I do that you’re just doing Jin’s dirty work for him. Very badly, but I guess he can’t find anyone better.”
Jimin gritted his teeth.
Suga’s mouth curved. He looked cocky and full of himself and Jimin hated him a little bit. “What are you getting for this shit, anyway? What did Jin offer? I’m sure Yoongi could double it.”
What was he getting out of this? Jin’s unadulterated appreciation and praise. Priceless. Jimin said loftily, “There’s no way he could give me what Jin’s giving me.”
Suga’s mouth fell open slightly, and his eyes narrowed. He said flatly, “Yeah right. There’s no way Jin is sleeping with you.”
“I didn’t say that!” Jimin hissed, horrified by how loud Suga was being. He glanced around furtively, hoping the other people in the library hadn’t overheard.
“You implied it.” Suga looked vaguely amused by Jimin’s sputtering. He shrugged. “And I don’t buy it for a second. Jin wouldn’t go for someone like you.”
He didn’t care what Suga thought. Obviously Jin was out of Jimin’s league. He knew that, had always known that, and he didn’t care. Suga’s opinion didn’t matter, not at all, but it still stung.
“You’re way too soft,” he went on. “Jin only likes fucking people he can’t control.”
Between the lines, Jimin heard-- people like me.
Now it made sense. Suga’s interest wasn’t about Yoongi, it was about Jin. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to think Jin and Suga were involved somehow, connected by their friendships with Yoongi. Jin had never mentioned him, but Jin didn’t talk much about his other friends. Maybe Suga saw Jimin as a threat - but probably not, Jimin thought miserably. He was probably just more of an annoyance. A fly Suga was trying to swat away.
He wanted the conversation to be over.
“Whatever,” he said stiffly, getting to his feet. He didn’t have to endure this. Suga was a jerk, just as Jimin had known within minutes of meeting him. “I gotta go.”
He grabbed his books and phone, not bothering to shove them into his bag, and stormed out, ignoring the sound of Suga’s voice calling after him.
“You giving up, then?” asked Taehyung between huge mouthfuls of taffy. “If you are, let Jin know I’ll take over. I’ll totally spy on Min Yoongi for him, no sweat.”
Jimin didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. He made a show of plugging his earphones in, pointedly turning his back on Taehyung.
“Man,” his friend muttered, “This Suga guy really got under your skin, huh?”
Jimin ignored that, too.
“You shouldn’t let what strangers say bother you, you know? Who the fuck cares?”
When even that failed to elicit a reaction, Taehyung added slyly, “He must be hot.”
Jimin practically shouted, “He’s an arrogant asshole!”
“Doesn’t mean he can’t be hot. In my experience,” Taehyung paused to chew (open-mouthed, the unmannered oaf) and swallowed before he finished, “-the hot ones usually are both.”
Taehyung shrugged. “I’m just saying. So is he?”
“Leave me alone,” Jimin said.
“Just tell me. Is he hot or not?”
Jimin slammed his laptop shut and went into the bathroom, firmly shutting the door.
“Fine, be like that,” Taehyung yelled, voice loudly piercing through the thin walls. “You’re such a drama queen!”
In the morning, Jimin went back to the library, bleary-eyed and in a terrible mood. He’d lost one of his textbooks - one of the really expensive ones - and some unknown number had spammed him randomly all night, keeping him awake. He hoped against all odds that a kind soul had found his textbook and handed it off to library staff, or else there was a good chance Jimin might have a mental breakdown right in front of the circulation desk.
“Sorry,” said the girl behind the desk, looking sympathetic. “No one brought anything in. You can try checking around the table where you sat, maybe it’s still lying around-”
“Thanks,” said Jimin sadly.
He chased that last bit of hope, returning to the section he’d been sitting in yesterday. After a good ten minutes of searching, he knew he was shit out of luck. Jimin collapsed into one of the empty chairs and threw himself face-down onto a table. Worst day ever.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, but he ignored it, mentally rehearsing what he was going to tell his parents when he asked them for money for a replacement. His mom was going to be furious with him. Maybe he could find a used copy for cheap somewhere. Probably not. He banged his head against the tabletop in frustration.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said a voice. “The guy sitting there before you drooled all over it.”
Jimin froze, a sense of deja-vu washing over him. It wasn’t just a feeling, though. Slowly, he lifted his head. Suga was leaning against a bookshelf in the corner, watching him.
Jimin let his head fall back to the table in silence. Footsteps approached, and the sound of a chair scraping against the linoleum floor met his ears. He felt more than heard Suga sit down.
This day couldn’t get any worse.
Nope. He wasn’t going to respond. It was just a bad dream. If he ignored it, it would surely go away.
“This is fucking rude.”
Jimin seethed beneath the cover of his arms. He kept them firmly folded across his head.
“Yah. Park Jimin.”
He was a rock and steadfastly remained unmoving. Suga sighed. There was a rustling noise. As if on cue, Jimin’s phone started to vibrate and buzz.
“Not on silent then.” He sounded annoyed. “Don’t you check your messages?”
He was slow on the uptake, but Jimin got it at last. The unknown number. He bolted upright with a gasp- “That was you ?”
What the hell?
“How did you get my phone number?”
“Does it matter?”
“I couldn’t sleep last night because of you!” Jimin exclaimed in outrage.
Suga snickered. “I’ve heard that before.”
Jimin bristled, annoyed by the way he could feel his cheeks growing hot. “As if! What do you want, anyway?”
There was a gleam in Suga’s eye, one that didn’t bode well. He leaned down to unzip his bag and then straightened, holding up a familiar-looking hardcover book in one hand. “Looking for this?”
“My textbook!” Jimin stood up so fast he banged his knees against the bottom of the table. He yelped in pain. “Fuck!”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Suga tsked. “You okay?”
Jimin snapped, “Where did you find that?”
“You left it behind yesterday. You were too busy running away to notice.”
“That’s mine! Give it back-”
“You want it back?” Suga smiled. It was terrifying. “You can have it back. As long as you agree to do something for me in return.”
The sheer nerve of what he’d just heard spoken to him rendered Jimin speechless. It took a few seconds before he could find his voice again. “Like what?”
“I dunno. I’ll think of something.”
“This is blackmail!”
“How is it blackmail? I’m not asking you for money. I did you a favour. Someone might have stolen your book if I hadn’t kept it safe for you. I just want to be repaid for my kindness.”
“Kindness my ass,” Jimin sputtered, reaching across the table for his textbook. He snatched it out of Suga’s rather lax grip, and clutched it to his chest.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Suga smugly, leaning back in his seat.
Jimin got the distinct impression he was being laughed at. He quickly shoved his newly recovered textbook into his bag, well away from Suga’s conniving clutches.
Suga watched him, that mocking gleam still in his eye. “You about to run off again?”
Absolutely, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit to it.
“Before you do, there’s one more thing.”
“Yoongi’s gone away.”
“What do you mean, gone away? Gone away where?”
“Somewhere.” Suga flicked one shoulder carelessly, as if it didn’t matter. “You can deal with me instead. I’ll pass on whatever Jin has to say to him.”
This had to be another trick. Jimin regarded him suspiciously.
“What? Jin can use you as a spy but I can’t be Yoongi’s messenger?”
He didn’t have an answer for that.
“Went away? Went away where?”
Jin’s voice over the line was crackly and half-drowned out by the sound of pounding rain.
(“Monsoon season,” he’d explained. “I’ve lost three hats already and it’s only been a week since I got here.” Jimin thought island living seemed rather precarious and hoped the next two weeks would go by more quickly. The sooner Jin was home safe and sound, the better.)
“I don’t know,” said Jimin.
“I don’t know,” Jimin repeated. He got the feeling Jin was starting to regret picking him for this task. He was a pretty shitty spy.
“Can you find out?”
“Listen to me, Jimin.”
“You know I am.”
“The last time Yoongi disappeared,” Jin said grimly, “I had to drive to the next city over to post bail.”
Talk to me about Hot Suga Time on twitter.
you wanna know where yoongi is?
bring coffee, two sugars, to the recital hall at 7.
MONDAY, 7:03 AM.
Without hesitation, Jimin demanded, “Is Yoongi in jail?”
“Why the hell would you ask that?”
Suga looked extremely annoyed. He muttered, “It was one fucking time.”
There was a story there, but Jimin doubted he would ever get to hear it. “Whatever. I brought your coffee. Tell me where he is.”
“That wasn’t the deal!” Jimin exclaimed, incensed.
Suga sipped his coffee (Jimin hoped his tongue got burnt off) and said simply, “Yoongi doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Why? Is he doing something bad?”
The corners of Suga’s mouth turned down. “Why does everyone immediately assume that? What the hell did Jin tell you? It’s all lies.”
Yeah, right. Jimin frowned at his tone. It was awfully defensive. “What are you getting mad for?”
“I’m offended on Yoongi’s behalf.”
TUESDAY, 4:25 PM.
Hoseok scratched his neck. “I dunno, Jimin. He didn’t tell me where he was going. He didn’t even tell me he was going anywhere. I have no idea.”
“Oh,” said Jimin, deflating a little. He’d hoped in vain that Hoseok might be able to shed a little light on the mysterious Min Yoongi’s whereabouts.
“Are you sure he’s gone? I swear I saw him just yesterday morning outside the Performing Arts Administration building.”
Could Suga be lying? But why? wondered Jimin, starting to feel like he was in way over his head.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right - Yoongi’s got this girl he works with sometimes, a vocalist. I think her name is Suran. Sometimes they hang out at her place, record stuff. Maybe she knows where he went?”
Jimin thanked him for the lead. Hoseok beamed brightly, happy to be able to help. One good thing had come out of all this: he’d got the chance to befriend Hoseok, who was seriously the nicest guy Jimin had ever met.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to find Suran. One of the other girls in her program told Jimin she was currently on leave for personal reasons and had been for weeks. It didn’t seem likely that Yoongi was with her - or at least, Jimin hoped not.
Suga sent him a message that evening: nice try. hoseok knows nothing. suran is out of the country.
coffee & 2 chocolate croissants, same time, same place tmrw.
WEDNESDAY, 6:45 AM
Jimin mourned the last ten dollars in his monthly allowance, giving it one last regretful look before he handed it over to the barista at the local cafe. She gave him his change along with a strange, pitying look, and moved onto the next customer.
Jimin set the coffee down on the table. The bag of pastries wasn’t hot and wouldn’t cause second degree burns so he threw it at Suga’s chest. It bounced onto his laptop keyboard.
Suga stopped typing. He dusted crumbs off his t-shirt. “Well, your aim isn’t bad, I’ll give you that.”
“Where’s Yoongi?” Jimin asked without preamble.
Suga didn’t answer. He reached into the crumpled bag and pulled out one of the croissants. Biting it between his front teeth, he closed his laptop, picked up his coffee, and said- “Thanks for breakfast. Later.”
Jimin looked at the leftover, untouched croissant he’d paid good money for and yelled indignantly, “Hey! Don’t waste food!”
Suga was already walking away. “Throw it out if you don’t want it, Park,” he said, not looking back.
you know the restaurant next to the playground two streets from campus?
they serve real good kimbap
i’m hungry, bring me lunch
ill be waiting by the student cafeteria
Suga lifted an eyebrow, looking from Jimin’s empty hands to his face. “Where’s my lunch?”
“I ate it,” Jimin lied.
(His stomach rebelled, roiling with emptiness. He didn’t have money any money left to buy food. The only thing sustaining him until the end of the month was Taehyung’s instant ramyun stash.)
“Tell me where Yoongi is.”
The eyebrow arched even higher. “I’m too hungry to remember.”
“I bought you two croissants this morning! And coffee!”
“I only ate one,” Suga pointed out. “I let you have the other one.”
“If you’re not going to tell me,” Jimin said, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m leaving.” He spun on his heel to do exactly that.
“Already?” Suga called after him. “I barely got to look at your pretty face-”
Jimin stopped in his tracks, whirling around in disbelief. Suga grinned at him.
“Quit messin’ with me,” Jimin huffed, face growing hot. He stomped off again, only managing to get about fifty feet away when Suga sent him another text.
Ur butt’s pretty cute too.
A reprieve came in the form of two days of relative silence from his tormentor. Jimin cautiously hoped Suga had been distracted by something else - someone shinier, more fun to pick on - and would leave him alone from now on. He was fine with that, even if it meant he couldn’t fulfil his obligations to Jin. Jin was coming home in ten days, anyway. Yoongi wasn’t around to wreak havoc on the apartment, and both Suga and Hoseok seemed to think he was fine.
Yeah. It was fine. He was glad Suga had gotten bored of him.
Which was why he thought the message came from Taehyung. He’d been texting Tae all through his boring afternoon lecture, ranting about how Suga was ruining his life- pausing only to groan and curse when his professor sprang an impromptu assignment on the class.
When he looked back down at his phone, a new message had popped up-
U free tmrw?
duh. no class on sat, remember?
A second after he sent it, he realised a chat window had been opened. He hadn’t sent it to Taehyung.
Suga is typing...
Jimin waited, horrified by his mistake, and felt like he’d been punched in the gut when the reply came-
cool. meet up w/ me @ 7
Jimin stared at his phone. After a minute of deep consideration, he bit the inside of his cheek, thought of Jin, and bravely replied:
fine. what do you want me to bring this time?
A bad feeling settled in Jimin’s belly, tempered by an even more irritating sense of anticipation. He told himself to get real. There was no reason to be happy about seeing Suga on the weekend. No reason at all.
FRIDAY, 7:05 PM
Suga was leaning lazily against a tree when Jimin arrived at their designated meeting place, wearing sunglasses and looking cool despite the scorching heat. He must have been sweltering under that leather jacket, but he didn’t show it. Suga saw him coming and straightened up, pushing himself away from the tree. “Hey.”
Jimin approached warily. “Hi.”
“Where are we going?”
He tilted his head. Jimin followed the direction of his gaze, perplexed. A movie theatre stood across the street from the playground they were standing in.
“It starts in less than five minutes,” was all Suga said.
“I didn’t bring any money,” Jimin replied defensively.
He walked off. Jimin followed him, vowing that he wouldn’t accept this kind of extortion and bullying without a fight.
To his shock Suga didn’t make him pay. Not for two movie tickets or for the large buttered popcorn and milkshake to go along with them. He was even more surprised when Suga coolly handed him the milkshake and generously let him have the armrest between their seats.
What the hell?
The next two hours went by in a bizarre daze. Jimin half-watched the movie with one eye on Suga sitting next to him the entire time. He didn’t know what was happening, but he was sure it was some kind of trick. Suga was up to something.
He spent the entire film reminding himself of this, trying not to succumb to inevitably bad thoughts, spurred on by their close proximity. Jimin couldn’t focus. He was restless, unable to keep from noticing out of the corner of his eye the way Suga’s chest rose and fell as he breathed. He couldn’t help straining his ears, either, to hear the deep timbre of Suga’s voice when he snickered at a funny bit of dialogue. The smell of his cologne invaded Jimin's nostrils, made him feel heady.
Fuck . Jimin tried to remember what Jin smelled like. He panicked a little when he realised he couldn’t. He could only smell pine and musk and popcorn, and when Suga’s hand brushed against his he reacted violently, almost jumping out of his seat.
“You okay?” Suga looked askance at him, the glow of the film highlighting his angular face. There was definitely a smirk lurking around his mouth, like he knew exactly what effect he was having on his companion.
He’s just messing around with you again, idiot. Don’t get any stupid ideas.
Jimin scowled and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I- I’m fine.”
He was still waiting for the other penny to drop by the time the movie ended. They shuffled out of the theatre slowly. Suga walked in front of him, his leather jacket creaking slightly with each step. Jimin fought the impulse to reach out and touch it - he wanted to know what the leather felt like, if it was as soft as it looked.
No . He shook his head, scolded himself for being stupid, and pictured Jin in his leather jacket - all broad shoulders and full lips and dreamy height, the complete package.
Jimin was thinking so hard about the way Jin’s hair sometimes curled at the back of his neck when he went too long between haircuts, he almost didn’t hear Suga ask, “Where do you live?”
He’d stopped walking. Jimin bumped into him. His hands automatically went up to grab Suga’s elbow - and he swallowed, feeling his stomach do several somersaults. The leather was buttery soft in his hands, and from this position Suga’s shoulders seemed ridiculously wide, blocking out the sunset.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, letting go quickly.
Suga shrugged. He squinted beneath his sunglasses at Jimin. He had put them back on. It wasn’t even sunny anymore. “You live on campus, don’t you?”
Jimin nodded. “Yeah. Student housing.”
“I haven’t lived on campus since first year. Thank fuck.”
“It’s not that bad,” Jimin said defensively. “I like it. It’s close. If I sleep through my alarm I can still make it to class in, like, five minutes.”
“So can I.”
“You live close to campus too?”
“Nope. Roommate. Real nosy bastard, always trying to butt into my business.”
Suga started walking. Jimin reluctantly went along. He was heading in the same direction, that was all.
He still had no idea what was happening, exactly - was Suga bored? Did he just want to go to the movies? Didn’t he have friends to go with him? Why me? Jimin stared hard at the back of Suga’s head, like he might be able to see inside his skull and unlock his deepest secrets, figure out what made him tick.
He stared for a long, long time. What was going on in there?
Suga stopped, looked back over his shoulder questioningly. Jimin grimaced and picked up his pace, slightly embarrassed by how far ahead he had gotten.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“You don’t have to walk behind me.”
“I’m not trying to,” Jimin said crossly, getting that same feeling he did all the time with his other friends. Taehyung had long legs and so did Jin and they constantly made fun of him for being slow. Suga wasn’t even taller than him, so what was with the Usain Bolt act? He complained loudly, “It’s like you’re speed walking. What’s the hurry?”
“You’re right,” Suga drawled, a hint of a lazy smile on his lips. “No reason to hurry. Good call. You can enjoy my company a bit longer if we walk slowly.”
Jimin snorted. Suga grinned, looking pleased with himself. He had a gummy smile. It was almost cute. But Jimin knew better. Suga was anything but cute. He was the devil. He obviously enjoyed fooling around with people’s feelings and laughing at them.
A silence fell between them as they walked. Jimin didn’t do well with silences - he always felt the need to fill them up.
“What year are you in, anyway?” Jimin asked. He couldn’t deny that he was curious. He really didn’t know much about Suga. “You’re a senior, right?”
“I’m graduating this summer. Music production.”
Just as he’d suspected. “Is that how you know Yoongi? He’s a music production major, too, isn’t he?”
Something flickered across Suga’s face. “... yeah.”
“Are you sure he’s okay?” Jimin asked, seizing the opportunity to bring up the topic of Min Yoongi again. “Yoongi, I mean-”
This time the look on Suga’s face was definitely one of annoyance. “Give it a break, will you?”
“You don’t even have to tell me where he is, come on-”
Suga rolled his eyes.
“I mean it! Jin’s really worried about him, you know?”
“Quit talking about him.”
Suga’s tone was curt, more curt than Jimin had ever heard. He was mocking and aggressive and sly, but always with a veneer of amusement laid over top, like he was playing a game. This was different. Maybe he was just sick of hearing Jimin ask about Yoongi. Which implied… what? That he wanted Jimin to talk about things other than Yoongi? What else was there to talk about? Jimin furrowed his brow, and looked sideways at the other man in deep consternation.
Was it jealousy? Was he upset Jin only seemed to care about Yoongi and no one else? If so, Jimin could relate. Sort of. He didn’t get the impression Jin liked Yoongi like that - Jin seemed to treat his roommate in the same way Jimin treated Taehyung: like they were big, destructive, irritating babies who needed a good coddle now and then.
“Jin needs to mind his own business.”
“He’s just concerned.”
“What Yoongi does shouldn’t be his concern.”
“Of course it should,” Jimin challenged, frowning at Suga’s dismissive attitude. “Yoongi is Jin’s friend. He just cares about him.”
Suga muttered something under his breath. Jimin caught the end of it, “... still can’t figure out why the fuck he does.”
“Why wouldn’t Jin care about Yoongi?”
“Because he’s an idiot,” Suga said, contrary to his earlier defense of Yoongi’s behaviour. “Useless. All he knows how to do is sleep and eat and party.”
“Don’t say that,” Jimin chided, suddenly hearing Jin’s voice in his head saying Yoongi has it tough, but he sticks it out . He needs a bit of help now and then, just like everyone else. “It’s hard, you know.”
Suga looked up, the tip of his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. His eyes were more piercing than usual. “Know.”
Jimin wasn’t sure, exactly, what Suga was referring to. He opened his mouth, and paused.
“Thought so,” said Suga. He reached over and flicked Jimin’s forehead. “Brat.”
“Ow!” He gaped, stunned.
Suga ignored him completely, and went on, “Well, I’ll admit he’s better than he used to be. Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”
His tone wasn’t fond, exactly, but it wasn’t hatred, either. There was definitely something there, something Jimin couldn’t figure out. Whatever it was, he knew it meant Yoongi was important to Suga, more important than he wanted to admit.
Jimin gave him a shrewd look. “You really care about him. Don’t you?”
Jimin smiled, knew he was right. “I can tell. You really care about Min Yoongi. You guys must have been friends for a long time, huh?”
After a minute or two of silence, Suga looked away, admitting, “All my life. A big fat pain in the ass.”
Thinking of Taehyung in particular, Jimin said, “I think that’s kinda the point.”
“If you say so,” said Suga.
Jimin was surprised to realise they were back on campus now, drawing close to the front of the student housing block. They had walked for nearly twenty minutes without Jimin noticing - he’d been so absorbed in the conversation and in trying to glean everything he could from Suga’s cryptic comments about his relationship with Yoongi.
It was getting dark now, deep shadows starting to collect along the trees lining the winding path up to the building. Suga stopped in front of the entrance, turning to look at Jimin, the final rays of the setting sun making him look ethereal. He removed his sunglasses and slid them into his pocket.
A fluttery feeling filled Jimin’s chest. This was… weird. Everything about the entire outing had been weird, unlike their previous encounters. He was deeply confused.
“What?” asked Suga, eyes boring into Jimin’s face. “Why are you staring at me?”
“I’m not,” Jimin answered automatically, even though he totally was.
“Stop staring so hard. Your eyes bulge when you do.”
“They do not!”
“It’s fine. It’s cute.”
Jimin inhaled sharply, once again at a loss for words. Suga grinned at him. Jerk.
“So, no class tomorrow?” he asked casually.
The shift in topic made Jimin blink. He replied, still feeling those butterflies in his chest, “No. But I have a paper due on Monday, so I have to work on it.”
Jimin narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be busy. All day. Too busy to do coffee runs.”
“Got it,” said Suga, smirking. “I can get my own coffee on Sundays.”
“You better not bother me tomorrow.”
“I’ve never bothered you.”
Jimin snorted, loudly. The smirk deepened and Jimin felt his face grow hot. It was just too much for him. Suga was standing too close again, he smelled too good, and the backdrop of the sunset made everything too soft and intimate and weird.
“Okay. I’m gonna go-” he gestured awkwardly at the building, wishing he knew a better way to end the evening. He wanted to go lie in bed and think and analyze every thing Suga had said to him.
Politely, he added, “Thanks for the movie.”
“Yeah,” said Suga. “Okay.”
Jimin nodded, and was about to duck around him to head to the entrance. But Suga stepped in front of him, blocking his path. He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder, and then before he knew what was happening, he felt another hand on his waist, and suddenly Suga's face was very, very, very close-
Suga’s mouth covered his, swallowing the strangled sound that came from his throat. Jimin went stiff with shock, brain freezing momentarily, but when Suga swept his tongue along Jimin’s bottom lip, teeth gently nipping at it, requesting entrance, he jolted back to life-
He jerked backwards, breathing hard, eyes wide. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m kissing you goodnight.”
Suga pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, the same tongue that had almost been in Jimin’s. He cocked his head, said evenly, “It’s what people do when they go on dates.”
Jimin’s mouth fell open. He closed it. It fell open again. He screeched, “Since when was this a date?”
With a straight face, Suga replied: “Since you showed up five minutes late.”
“I asked you out. You agreed to meet me at a movie theatre. We watched an entire fucking film, I bought you a milkshake because you don’t drink anything with caffeine in it, and now I’m walking you home. What more do you want?” When Jimin failed to answer, he grunted impatiently, “Well? Am I wrong? Did we not just go on a date?”
“I-” Jimin stared at him in stunned amazement. “No!”
The look on Suga’s face would have been comical if it weren’t so patently ridiculous. “So what the hell were we doing for the last three hours?”
“It was a fucking date.”
Flustered, Jimin stuttered, “H-how can it be a date if I didn’t know it was one?!”
“Well,” he said as cool as a cucumber, watching Jimin carefully- “Now you do.”
A little while later, with legs that felt like lead, Jimin went inside. Taehyung was in the kitchen, eating something greasy and deep-fried over the kitchen sink. He waited until Jimin slumped down onto the kitchen table to ask, “What’s wrong? You don’t look good.”
“I went on a date,” Jimin said.
“Sorry, I must be hearing things. I thought I just heard you say you went on a date.”
Jimin ignored the sass. He mumbled, “I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t know it was a date. Until it was over.”
Taehyung blinked. “How the fuck is that possible?”
“I got tricked.”
“Who tricked you?”
Jimin was silent.
“Wait-- seriously?” Taehyung broke into a grin. “Seriously? Hot Suga took you out on a date and you didn’t know??”
He started laughing like a hyena in heat. To punish him, Jimin went and locked himself into the bathroom for several hours, refusing to come out even when Taehyung begged. Served him right.
“I’m back,” said Jimin with a heavy sigh. His bag slid off his slumped shoulders and fell onto the floor with a thump. He left it there, robotically heading over to the fridge to find something to drink.
“Go on any dates today?” Taehyung teased.
He was too tired to offer anything more than a half-hearted, “Shut up.”
“Jin called. I talked to him on the phone. He wants to know why you haven't logged onto skype-”
Jimin flinched, avoiding Taehyung’s eyes. It was Tuesday, three whole days since The Date He Didn’t Know Was A Fuckin’ Date, and he still felt too guilty to face Jin.
Suga had not contacted him since. Jimin was filled with both agony and relief. The agony was in not knowing whether or not Suga was so disgusted with him he was never going to talk to Jimin ever again. The relief was in not having to face Suga after humiliating himself so fucking thoroughly his insides squirmed whenever he thought about it.
Well known for his delicate way with words and other people’s feelings, Taehyung said bluntly, “Man, you look like shit. Did you even sleep last night?”
Jimin uncapped a bottle of cold water and gulped it down, cheeks burning. The truth was... he’d been too tense to be able to sleep without relieving the tension a bit. Which was normal. He was a normal person with normal human needs. What wasn’t normal was the fact that he’d thought about someone else, not Jin as per usual, while trying to... relax.
Taehyung looked at him suspiciously, as if capable of hearing his inappropriate thoughts. Sometimes Jimin thought maybe he really could. It was uncanny. He gave Jimin an appraising look. “Did Hot Suga ask you out again?”
“Is that why you’re so moody? Just text him and say you’re sorry for being dense and tell him you actually really want to jump his bones-”
The very idea was ludicrous. He scoffed, blushing even harder, and told Tae to mind his own business.
“I’m just looking out for you, Chim,” said Taehyung, licking peanut butter off his fingertips. He ate it straight from the jar, the ill-mannered brat, which meant Jimin never got to have any peanut butter himself. “I want you to hook up with the hot guy of your dreams. You know as well as I do that Jin isn’t going to put out - if he was going to, woulda happened by now. You gotta move on, bro.”
“Whatever!” Jimin scowled, hated the way his heart sunk a little at the words. Because they’re true and you know it. He shot back, “You just want me to give up so you can have him for yourself!”
His roommate-slash-best friend sighed. “I wouldn’t say no, but I have a feeling he wouldn’t go for me, either.”
That didn’t mollify Jimin one bit. He wasn’t particularly moved by Taehyung’s whining. In fact, Jimin was sick of the topic, but Taehyung never stopped.
“Seriously, when are we going to get laid? It’s already our second year. At least if you got it on with Hot Suga I could live vicariously through you-”
“In your dreams,” Jimin scoffed again.
It was time to focus.
Jin was coming home in seven days, and Jimin wanted to have something to show for all his time and labour. Sunk costs, blah blah blah. And he wanted to prove Taehyung wrong - even though deep down, a part of him knew Taehyung was probably right. The prospect of Jin was probably always just going to be a pipe dream, but he wouldn’t allow himself to admit it.
The problem was how to find out anything about Min Yoongi when his only source of information was currently unavailable. Possibly permanently so. There was always Hoseok, he supposed, but Hoseok didn’t seem to be as close to Yoongi as Suga was. He was willing enough to divulge information, but he didn’t really have any to give.
He didn’t expect to hear from Hobi that afternoon. The excited text messages came as he was considering drowning his sorrows in banana milk and green tea Pepero.
Saw Yoongi today!!
Come to the Performing Arts Building!!!
Jimin ran. He made it in record time, shoelace coming undone and threatening to trip him. He almost lost the entire shoe.
When he arrived, Hoseok was nowhere to be seen. Jimin panted, scanning the busy lobby for Hoseok and the elusive Min Yoongi. His heart was beating fast, and not just because he was out of breath. Was this finally the moment? Was he finally going to meet Min Yoongi, at last?
Yanking his phone out of his pocket, Jimin rapidly texted, IM HERE WHERe ARE U WHERE IS YOONGIm??
sorry I had 2 go im late for class
he’s in the washroom!!!!
he always takes forever so take ur time
Jimin dashed towards the men’s lavatory, skidding to a stop right by the entrance. He debated going inside, but stopped himself. What was he going to do? Knock on each stall door, shouting Min Yoongi’s name?
While he was still debating what to do, someone pushed open the door, almost whacking Jimin in the nose. He backed up hurriedly with an undignified yelp and opened his mouth to say “Sorry-!” but the apology died on his lips before it could emerge.
Suga looked up, one hand in the process of stuffing an earbud into his left ear. He let it drop when he noticed Jimin standing there. One eyebrow lifted in surprise.
Shit, shit shit.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Jimin said quickly, going red in the face, “It’s just a coincidence! I didn’t ask Hoseok to arrange this or anything like that, I was just- well, he told me he saw Yoongi here, so I…”
Suga looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. His mouth flattened into a grim line, instantly making Jimin feel like crawling into the nearest hole and shriveling up into nothing. He was definitely still angry. He definitely wasn’t happy to see Jimin at all, and didn’t respond to Jimin’s awkward speech.
The ambivalent, semi-guilty feeling in Jimin had been nursing for days turned into outright irritation. Suga didn’t have to be so… rude. It was a misunderstanding. Jimin had been planning to apologize at some point, once he gathered the courage to reach out - like, when Jin was back and Yoongi wasn’t missing or in jail and Suga didn’t have the upper hand over him anymore. Now he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
You knew it’d be like this, so what does it matter?
Miserably, Jimin squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Whatever. He looked over Suga’s shoulder and muttered, “Is Yoongi in there?”
“No,” said Suga, speaking at last. “He’s not in there.”
Disappointment filled his chest. “I missed him?”
Suga stared at him, eyes intensely boring into his face. Jimin felt like an ant under a magnifying glass, scorched by a look that went on for far longer than was comfortable.
“Are you for real?” he demanded, shaking his head slightly. “Or are you messing with me?”
“What? You know I’m still looking for Yoo-”
Suga made an impatient noise, halfway between a snort and a sigh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Jin put you up to this, but I don’t think you’re that good of an actor.”
Jimin looked at him in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”
“Never mind,” he said after a moment, shaking his head again.
“Did you see where Yoongi went?”
Suga’s mouth flattened even more. He didn’t answer the question.
There was no way he could avoid Jin forever, so it was with a heavy heart that Jimin signed into Skype. Jin wasn’t online, but several new chat notifications popped up on his screen. It was dated several days ago.
Jimin-ah, I guess you’re busy, but I just wanted to let you know, I’m extending my trip by two more weeks. My parents want me to visit their secondary research site, so I won’t be back until next month. BTW, you don’t have to worry about looking for Yoongi anymore. I talked to him last night. He’s fine ^^
could you do me a favour and check the fridge in my apartment? I think I forgot to toss out leftovers. Thanks!
Chim Chim, you’re the best. xxxx
Jimin signed off, feeling a mix of emotions he couldn’t name.
He let himself into Jin’s apartment. The door was locked this time. It was silent inside and all things considered, didn’t smell as bad as Jimin had expected. Cautiously he made his way through to the kitchen, preparing himself for the stench to come.
The foul odor of spoiled meat hit his nostrils as soon as he opened the fridge door. He slammed it shut, holding his nose and breathing through his mouth. Jimin’s stomach roiled in protest but he had no choice. He got rid of it quickly, grimacing at the smell left behind on his palms. Dirty dishes lined the sink but there was no soap or detergent.
Jimin held both hands out, careful not to touch anything as he went to the bathroom. To his annoyance the door was closed. He reached for the doorknob, thinking he’d have to wipe it down afterwards, and shoved his way in, only to come to a complete standstill.
The bathroom was occupied. Jimin blinked, confused by the sight. Someone was standing in front of the porcelain toilet, pants undone, one hand scratching the back of a familiar blonde head--
“What the fuck?” said Suga, scowling as he twisted his head to look behind him.
Far too late, Jimin slapped a hand over his eyes. He spun around, shouting, “Oh god!”
The image was burned onto the back of his eyelids. Keeping his eyes closed only meant he could see it as clearly as if he was still looking.
He bolted out.
Jimin wanted to die.
He sat on the sofa in the living room, hands clasped together, awaiting punishment. Suga stood above him, arms crossed over his chest, watching him with unblinking, accusatory eyes. The silence was unbearable.
After what felt like a thousand years, Suga finally spoke. To Jimin’s horror, he drawled out in a deadpan voice, “You’re a pervert.”
“I’m not a pervert!” Jimin cried, cringing. “I just- it was an accident!”
“That’s twice now,” Suga said blandly, as if he wasn’t accusing Jimin of being a peeping tom. “I get it now. So this is why you were loitering in front of the men’s bathroom at school. All that stuff about looking for Yoongi was just a cover up, wasn’t it?”
“That’s not it-!”
“You just wanted to get a look at my goods.”
He sputtered, going pale.
Suga went on, nodding slightly, “Understandable. But honestly, all you had to do was ask.” He smirked at Jimin, who choked on his own tongue, and blithely added, “I’m open to a lot of kinky things, as long as I’m in the mood, and you ask nicely--”
His face was on fire. He was going to die. There was no coming back from this.
“It was an accident,” Jimin said for the hundredth time.
“So you keep saying,” Suga’s eyes sparkled, he clearly was enjoying this, the bastard, “But from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you just wanna get in my pants-” He lowered his hand to his zipper, making a show of reaching for the little metal tab, “If you really want it, I can-”
Jimin’s eyes bulged in their sockets.
Suga took one look at him and burst out laughing, so hard he doubled over. It felt like a cold slap to the face.
“Very funny,” Jimin snapped, embarrassed beyond belief. A part of him still wanted to die, another part was relieved it was a joke, and the third part was amazed to see Suga cracking up.
“Hilarious,” Suga agreed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Thanks for that. I haven’t laughed this hard in years.”
“Whatever,” Jimin grumbled, bright red patches still highlighting each cheek. He pressed his hands to his face, willing the heat to dissipate. Suga’s amusement settled into his trademark smirk. He came around the coffee table and sat down next to Jimin, leaving barely a foot of space between them.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked, willing himself not to let his discomfort show.
A beat of silence passed. “Jin didn’t tell you?”
“He did,” Jimin said, “He told me he talked to Yoongi, so I don’t need to find him anymore. I only came to clear out the fridge.”
Suga stared at him. He repeated, “To clear out the fridge.”
“Yeah.” Jimin winced. “It was pretty bad. Doesn’t Yoongi ever-”
“So you came here to do Jin’s bidding,” Suga said in a low voice. “Again.”
“Well…” Jimin had the sudden feeling he’d said the wrong thing. He licked his dry lips, “I…”
“He didn’t say anything else?”
“You really just came here to clean the kitchen?”
The room fell silent as they regarded each other from both ends of the sofa. Jimin clenched his hands in his lap, still unnerved. He kept his eyes firmly above Suga’s neck, not daring to let his gaze fall any lower. That would be bad. Very bad. Jimin dragged his gaze away, focused it on the blank tv screen. If he closed his eyes he knew he would still be able to picture it clearly-- bad, bad, bad STOP.
Fine? Jimin glanced in Suga’s direction, was startled to see the hard expression he found there. Definitely not fine. Suga was upset, he could sense it, could tell from the tense lines around his mouth and eyes.
He swallowed. This was his chance. An opportunity to apologize. He’d practiced it in his own head a million times.
“About the… date,” he began, nearly losing his nerve when Suga turned his head sharply to meet his eyes, “I- I’m sorry about that. I was just surprised. It’s not what you think.”
He breathed in deeply. “What I mean, is-” Jimin’s face felt like it was on fire, and the way Suga looked at him made his stomach clench like someone was squeezing it inside a tight fist. Just say it. He breathed in again. “It was good. I liked it. I just-- I need some warning.”
Suga leaned back, stretching one arm out along the top of the sofa. His long fingers drummed a beat against the fabric, mesmerising Jimin with the movement. “OK.”
All the air rushed out of his lungs like a deflating balloon. It was acceptance, nothing more. It didn’t tell Jimin whether or not Suga was going to forgive him, or if Suga wanted a repeat of the experience, or-
“Go wash your hands,” Suga ordered suddenly, brow furrowed. “I can smell it from here.”
Jimin was startled by the abruptness of the command, but he shot to his feet and hurried to the bathroom. He scrubbed at his hands furiously, soaping up twice before rinsing them. Then he splashed his face with cold water for good measure, wiped it dry on his t-shirt, and returned to the living room.
Suga was still reclining on the sofa. Jimin hung his head and asked dejectedly, “Should I leave?”
The sound of Suga slowly getting to his feet met Jimin’s ears. He looked up, watched as Suga approached him with a careful, casual air of consideration. His eyes were dark and opaque, flicking from Jimin’s clean hands to his face.
He asked, “How much?”
“How much warning do you need?” Suga said, clarifying the point.
Jimin’s stomach clenched again. “Not a lot.”
A hand settled on his neck, the calloused fingers warm against the bare skin of his nape. Suga was very close. When he said, “Is this enough?”, Jimin could feel the brush of air from the words against his chin.
“Yeah,” he managed to croak.
And then Suga was leaning in, without hesitation, pressing his lips to Jimin’s. The kiss was gentler than the last time, almost tentative, as if Suga was waiting for Jimin to push him away. He didn’t want to. He definitely didn’t want to. His hands lifted of their own accord, gripped Suga’s elbows, a silent plea of don’t stop.
Suga got the hint and slipped his tongue into Jimin’s mouth. He tasted like coffee, like something sweet and irresistible and heady. He felt himself being maneuvered backwards until the back of his knees hit the edge of the sofa seat. Suga pushed him down, never breaking the kiss. Jimin clutched at Suga’s collar, keeping him as close as possible.
Jimin’s mind went blissfully blank. He let Suga kiss him for as long as he wanted. Which was a very long time. That suited Jimin just fine.
He had no recollection of how it happened, but somehow he was sprawled across the sofa on his back, Suga half-lying on top of him, hips nestled between Jimin’s knees. Suga sucked on his bottom lip, stroked his hand down Jimin’s chest and stomach, pausing to make figure-eights across the patch of skin just above the waistband of his jeans.
He dragged his knuckles under the hem of Jimin’s shirt, across Jimin’s abs, groaning at the feeling of them. And then his hand went lower.
Jimin gasped, breaking the kiss. The hand on his crotch stilled.
“Right,” Suga grunted, his voice deep. “I forgot. Warning.” Suga’s mouth travelled from his lips to his jaw to the patch of sensitive skin beneath his ear, teasing him with light nips along the way. “Is this OK?”
Jimin gasped again, moaning at the escalation, blood pounding hotly in his veins and in his pants. It was okay. It was fucking great.
“So noisy,” Suga breathed, making Jimin shiver. He covered Jimin’s mouth with his own, swallowing the noises Jimin made. His hand resumed stroking, maddeningly light, through Jimin’s jeans. He applied more pressure slowly, increasing with each pass, and it was just starting to drive Jimin to the point of combustion when Suga stopped.
The sound of despair that ripped from Jimin’s throat was nearly inhuman. He panted, eyes wide-
Suga cocked his head, gaze locking with Jimin’s.
“You better not be thinking about Jin right now,” he threatened, breath hot against Jimin’s lower lip.
His mind was a mushy, nonfunctional mess, but somehow Jimin had the presence of mind to stutter, “W-who?”
Suga smirked into Jimin’s neck. “Good answer.” And he slowly, so, so so slowly, pulled down Jimin’s zipper.
Sorry for the lame smut. I tried >.< Thank you for reading <3
Tae had been right all this time.
Getting laid was the best thing he’d ever experienced in his entire life.
Jimin’s head swam with endorphins and all the other good chemicals that came along with getting off. It was ten times more potent at Suga’s hand (okay, mouth) than when he did it to himself. He even dropped Jin’s keys when trying to lock the door behind them because both his hands were trembling with the lingering aftereffects.
Suga smirked, picked them up and slid them into Jimin’s back pocket for him - his hand lingering for a few seconds too long. Then he used his own key, but Jimin had been too high to really notice it.
He only had a vague recollection of how he got home from Jin’s apartment. He probably walked. Yes. He walked. Suga had walked with him, possibly holding his hand for a lengthy duration of it. Jimin had blushed when he entwined their fingers, which was pretty fucking ridiculous considering what Suga had done to him prior to walking him home while holding his hand.
They made out for a while in front of Jimin’s building, until Jimin couldn’t feel his lips. He’d even groped Suga’s butt the entire time. Suga didn’t seem to care at all. He said something about seeing Jimin tomorrow, but Jimin barely heard him. He was too enthralled by a new technique he’d just learned via demonstration - a person could roll their tongue inside someone else’s mouth, and it was brilliant.
Jimin found it difficult to sleep after that. Very difficult. He lay in bed reliving the very first blowjob of his life, shivering at the memory of how unbelievably amazing it had felt. He wasn’t sure how he’d survived, honestly. And he couldn’t wait to do it again.
Something bothered him, however, despite his state of post-orgasmic high. He couldn’t figure out what, exactly, until he heard Taehyung shuffling about in the hall, heading to the bathroom. The sound of the door closing with a click triggered the memory of Suga using his own key to Jin’s apartment.
Why did Suga have a key to Jin’s apartment?
What… had he been doing in Jin’s apartment?
Jimin’s brow furrowed in the dark. He thought about it for quite some time, feeling rather ill at ease until finally it dawned on him that Suga must have been doing the exact same thing as Jimin himself. Min Yoongi must have asked him to check on something. He remembered Suga taking a camera bag from the hallway closet before they left - Yoongi must have asked him to pick it up for him.
Yes. That made sense.
Jimin yawned and relaxed, finally able to fall asleep.
In the morning Jimin got up early, made his bed, did some flexibility stretching exercises Hoseok had taught him at last week’s dance club practice, showered, made breakfast, ate breakfast, all the while singing along to the latest Justin Bieber single. Once he’d done the dishes, he set out all the ingredients he needed for his special morning energy booster shake-- enough for two portions.
Taehyung wandered into the kitchen while Jimin was blitzing the second serving in the blender.
“You’re awfully perky this morning,” he said by way of greeting. “Oooh. Thanks, Chim.”
“Hey! That’s not for you!” He snatched the bottle out of Taehyung’s hand before he could guzzle it down.
“You can’t drink two protein smoothies for breakfast,” Taehyung retorted, outraged. “You’ll get indigestion!”
“They’re not both for me. They’re to go.”
“What? Who’s it for, then? Jin’s not home yet, who else would you make a smoothie for if not me?”
“It’s a secret.”
“We don’t have secrets, Jimin. We made a vow in fifth grade, or have you forgotten?”
God damn it. Jimin averted his eyes.
“Tell me the truth,” Taehyung ordered, looking suspicious as hell. His eyebrows lifted well above the bottom of his bangs. “Is this for Hot Suga?”
He averted his eyes harder, busying himself with rinsing out the blender in the sink.
Taehyung wasn’t deterred. He knew Jimin too well.
“It’s totally for Hot Suga, isn’t it? Did he ask you out again? Did you say yes?”
Jimin shrugged, tried to be casual about it. “Sort of… I guess.”
“You held out on me!” Tae yelled. “How could you!”
“It just happened last night!”
“Last night? Is that why you were so late? You got laid? And you didn’t tell me?? ”
“We didn’t go all the way!” Jimin sputtered. “Stop yelling! The neighbours can hear you!”
Taehyung proceeded to hound Jimin for details at top volume, but Jimin dodged him, grabbed his two bottles, and flew out the door. While he was racing across campus, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Carefully balancing both drinks in the crook of one elbow, arm clamped over his chest, he checked his messages. There was a new one from Suga: I’m in front of the library. Come here before class.
Alright, so it was more of a command than an invitation, but that was just Suga’s style. It wasn’t like the other times, Jimin thought, nodding to himself. This time he didn’t have to go - he just wanted to. Eagerly he shoved his phone back into his back pocket, and spun on his heel to go back in the opposite direction.
Unfortunately, he didn’t see the girl who had been jogging behind him, and ran smack into her. The bottles flew out of his clutch and exploded onto the pavement. Lots of cursing and apologies and grimacing later, Jimin sadly collected the cracked remnants of his morning offering and threw them away, heading to the nearest cafe.
He was ten minutes later than he would have been, but Suga was waiting patiently by the library entrance and didn’t seem annoyed. He was leaning against a tree - as always - and smiled when he saw Jimin approaching, coffee cup brandished in one outstretched hand.
“I didn’t ask for coffee,” Suga said, raising an eyebrow.
“I know,” said Jimin. “I just wanted to bring you one.”
Suga took it, mouth curving upwards. “Thanks.”
It wasn’t as good as giving Suga his own personal healthy morning energy boost, but it was better than nothing. Jimin beamed.
“That’s a first,” Suga remarked, taking a sip.
“I smile all the time!”
“Not when you see me,” said Suga.
A small blush crept over Jimin’s cheeks. “That’s because you bullied me.”
“That was not bullying.”
“Yes it was.”
“It was not.”
Jimin challenged, “What was it supposed to be, then?”
“Flirting,” said Suga, eyebrow still raised. He added, a bit sarcastically, “Apparently I was doing it very badly.”
The blush intensified. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Suga sighed, set his coffee cup down. “I’m rusty. Been out of the dating loop for too long.”
“Oh.” Jimin didn’t know what to say. “Really?”
“Me too,” said Jimin quickly, so Suga didn’t feel too bad about it. Anyway, it was true: Jimin hadn’t dated anyone since high school, and his one relationship during that time had not lasted very long.
Then, suddenly, Suga was leaning in and pressing his lips to Jimin’s. He was going to have to get used to this, Jimin thought rather dazedly. All the kissing. All the time.
Suga lifted his head briefly, licking his bottom lip, and muttered, “--what did you have for breakfast? Candy?”
“Froot Loops,” Jimin managed to say, tasting coffee on his own tongue.
Suga grunted, “That’ll rot your teeth--” and dove in again. His hand went to the back of Jimin’s waist, guiding him like he had the night before, until Jimin was pressed against a nearby tree. Suga’s arms caged him in, fingers digging into the bark, keeping Jimin locked in place.
He wasn’t sure how long the kiss went on before he felt a presence looming behind Suga, even though his eyes were closed and he couldn’t actually see who it was.
“New development, eh?” said a familiar sounding voice. “Interesting. Can’t say I’m surprised, thought it might be why you were looking for him so hard, but-”
Suga pushed away from Jimin, keeping both palms on the tree. He looked over his shoulder and drawled, “Go away. I’m busy.”
“I’m happy for you, bros, and I hate to interrupt but I really -”
“Ignore him,” said Suga, loosening his grip on the trunk to slid a hand around Jimin’s neck, massaging it. “He’ll go away if we do.”
That wasn’t very nice. Hoseok - Jimin recognized that voice now - clearly took offense. He whined, “Yoongs. Bro. I seriously need a hand!”
Jimin felt Suga pull back, turn his head, and answer curtly, “I’m busy.”
“Oh come on, Yoongi!”
He cut off suddenly, in mid-sentence. The hand on the back of Jimin’s neck stilled.
Senses still muddled by all the kissing, Jimin took a beat longer to react. His lips felt swollen, so he licked at them self-consciously as Suga watched him, face devoid of expression. Jimin smiled shyly and said, “It’s okay, I don’t mind. You can…”
He trailed off, frowning, a feeling of unease settling at the back of his mind. His brain had finally caught up, temporarily hindered by his hormones, and Jimin wondered if he’d heard wrong. That was possible, right? He’d definitely just heard wrong, right?
The words came out of his mouth a bit faint: “What did you just say, Hoseok?”
“I need your help,” Hoseok whined, oblivious to the tension that was creeping up between Jimin’s shoulder blades, stiffening his back. Suga was still staring, still silent. Hoseok changed tactics and wheedled, “It doesn’t even have to be Yoongi, you can help me, Jimin!”
It doesn’t have to be Yoongi.
Jimin looked from Hoseok’s beseeching face to Suga’s impassive one. The only thing that gave away any sort of emotion from him was the guarded look in his eyes. Jimin recognized that look, he’d seen it a hundred times before, but he had never understood it - until now.
His voice trembled when he spoke. There was a roaring in his ears.
“Yoongi?” he asked.
Another beat passed. The hand on his neck withdrew until it was no longer touching him, the warmth suddenly missing against his skin.
“Yeah,” said Min Yoongi, taking a step back.
Sex made you dumb.
It was the only explanation.
Nevermind that it didn’t explain why Jimin hadn’t caught on prior to the actual sex part. He’d been tricked by Suga’s pretty face and lured into a sense of false security.
Suga called and left voicemails and sent messages, all of them saying Sorry. I’m sorry, just hear me out- but Jimin left them all unanswered and went on feeling pathetic and dumb and absolutely livid.
You should have stuck with Jin, said a little voice in his head. Jin wouldn’t disappoint you. You never had a chance with him, he was safe. The voices in his head were no fucking help at all.
Taehyung thought it was funny. Of course he did. He thought every crisis in Jimin’s life was simply hilarious. He wasn’t any help at all, either.
“What does it matter? Sure, he lied about some stuff, but it’s not like he lied about anything important-”
Jimin couldn’t believe his ears. Not important? “He lied about who he was!”
Taehyung shrugged. “He didn’t really lie, he really does go by Suga. I have a friend in the same program who says no one calls Suga by his real name, not even the professors. It’s like he’s Madonna or something.”
Jimin wasn’t impressed. It was still lying by omission.
“He apologized, didn’t he?”
He had, but Jimin was still mad. Once the truth had come out, he’d begun seeing all the little hints and clues he’d been oblivious to. Suga being in Jin’s apartment that day, having his own key, even as far back as the night of the party- making sure people didn’t do stuff on his bed, knowing where Jin kept the first-aid kit. All the times he’d failed to connect the dots when Hoseok had given him leads on where Yoongi might be, only for Jimin to find Suga in those places instead.
He felt stupid. He hated feeling stupid. It was the worst feeling in the world, to be taken for a fool. He felt sick to his stomach when he thought of Suga- no, Min Yoongi- laughing at him behind his back.
“How long are you going to be mad for?” Taehyung asked, breaking into his string of decidedly depressing thoughts. “What if he stops wanting to bonk you by the time you’ve decided to forgive him?”
Jimin swore. “Why do you only care about sex? Getting laid isn’t everything!”
“No,” said Taehyung, shaking his head. “But you were so happy while you were getting it. I just want the best for you, Chim.”
Suga - Min Yoongi - got the message after three solid days of being ignored. Jimin wouldn’t even give him the satisfaction of knowing his messages had been read, he refused to even look at them. He stopped calling and leaving messages. Jimin was glad.
Hoseok was sent to play the middleman, but he seemed more concerned with making sure Jimin knew he hadn’t been in on the joke when he realised just how upset Jimin was over the whole thing.
“I seriously thought you knew,” Hoseok said, eyes wide. “I thought it was weird you kept missing him, but… believe me, Jimin, I wasn’t trying to trick you. I don’t think Yoongi was, either, he just got carried away--”
“Forget it,” Jimin said, embarrassed by Hoseok’s apology. He could tell Hoseok felt bad for him, and that made him feel even worse. It was his own fault for being stupid. “Don’t worry. I don’t blame you.”
“It’s fine,” he insisted, and made an excuse to flee.
Five days passed since he discovered the truth. Jimin hadn’t heard from Suga since his conversation with Hoseok. He had skyped with Jin that morning, had tried his best to pretend to be cheerful and perky and happy that Jin was coming home the following week, but Jimin wasn’t sure he’d been very convincing. Jin didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong.
The misery and hurt didn’t go away. It got worse. Suga had given up - of course he had. Jimin was just some idiot he’d tricked into hooking up with him. He didn’t matter. When Jin came back Jimin would have to find excuses to never drop by their apartment ever again, just in case Suga might be there. Things were never going to be the same. What if Jin found out? What if Jin ended up so disgusted with Jimin he stopped wanting to be Jimin’s friend?
The idea worried him so much he had to call Taehyung right away to ask him for his opinion, even though he was on his way back to their dorm.
Taehyung promptly said, “Shut up. That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. Jin loves you, he’s more likely to kill Hot Suga for hurting your feelings.”
“You think so?” Jimin gnawed on his lower lip. That was separate concern he hadn’t thought of. “I don’t think Jin would…”
“I know I said he wouldn’t put out, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you. And he can get in line. I’ll kill Hot Suga myself first.” The last sentence was said loudly, loud enough to hurt Jimin’s ears.
“You don’t have to kill him,” Jimin said quickly. “I don’t care anymore. I’m over it.”
“Yeah right,” Taehyung snorted. “Don’t worry. I won’t kill him. For now. Anyway, you coming home?”
“On my way,” Jimin said. “Why?”
“I’m about to leave,” Taehyung said. Dimly, in the background, Jimin heard the sound of the door. “I’m leaving now, ” he repeated oddly, as if talking to someone in the room with him.
“Who’s there with you?” Jimin asked.
There was the sound of a door being shut, some scuffling, and then Taehyung muttered, “I’m not supposed to tell you so you don’t run away, but as your best friend, I feel like I owe my loyalty to you first and foremost--”
“What?” Jimin stared at his phone, befuddled. “I’m almost there, wait a sec--”
He forewent the slow elevator and dashed up two flights of stairs. Taehyung was loitering in the hall, by their front door, looking peevish.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Listen,” said Tae, grabbing Jimin’s forearm with one hand and the doorknob with the other, “Just remember: I love you, Chim.”
He opened the door and shoved Jimin inside.
“What the-- Tae--!” He stumbled, tripping over a carelessly discarded sneaker. Someone caught him by the elbows, saving him from a painful faceplant onto the floor.
“Thanks,” he began to say, but the word died on his lips as soon as he looked up and saw who it was.
Min Yoongi had infiltrated his territory.
He yanked his arms away, furious with both the liar standing before him and his traitorous best friend. And with himself, for getting tricked yet again.
“I had no choice,” the Liar said, pre-empting Jimin’s anger. “You’re astoundingly stubborn.”
“Not until you hear me out.”
“Like hell!” He covered his ears with his hands. “I’m not listening!”
The Liar had the audacity to smile. He realised his mistake and quickly dropped the smirk. “Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re cute, I can’t help it.”
It was just a lie meant to disarm him, nothing more. Don’t be a fool. Jimin gritted his teeth. “There’s nothing to talk about. I should’ve known from the beginning you were just messing with me the whole time!”
“Maybe in the beginning, yeah,” said the Liar. “Still doesn’t change the fact that I like you.”
I like you. Jimin’s stomach twisted hotly, but he forced himself to stay strong. “Whatever.”
“You like me, too.”
“I don’t like liars!”
Suga’s mouth tensed. “I shouldn’t have lied. I’m sorry. When are you going to accept my apology?”
“Never,” he said stubbornly.
For some reason, Suga took this as a challenge. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“However many you want.”
“What are you talking about?”
Suga cocked his head. “Blowjobs. Handjobs. Whatever you want. Just name a figure, I’ll throw in a bonus.”
Jimin was momentarily speechless. He stared at Suga, at his rigid stance, the way his hands were shoved into his pockets - affecting a casual air that didn’t match the determination in his gaze. He wasn’t going to give up. Not a chance.
Jimin faltered, uncertain of what to do or say. Despite himself, he was scandalized. Once he’d finally recovered his voice, Jimin demanded, “What?”
“You heard me. How many do you want?”
He had to be bluffing. It was the stupidest thing Jimin had ever heard. Furiously, he shouted the largest number he could think of on the spot. “Fifty!”
“Fine. No problem.”
“Right. You’re just gonna give me fifty blow jobs-”
“I’ll throw in five extra ones. To show my sincerity.”
Jimin felt like throwing the nearest heavy object he could find at Suga - no, Yoongi’s head. He narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Give me fifty blowjobs and then I’ll consider forgiving you for being a monster and a liar.”
“Deal.” Suga unzipped his leather jacket and slipped it off his shoulders. He carefully slung it over the back of Taehyung’s chair, before running a hand through his hair. “You wanna lie down on the bed, or should I just get on my knees?”
Jimin’s mouth fell open slightly. He stared, conflicted, afraid to carry on with the bluff and too angry to give in. Suga seemed to decide his silence meant the latter of the two choices he’d offered and before Jimin knew what was happening, he’d sunk to his knees, hands moving to grasp Jimin’s hips.
His mouth went dry. To his utter shame and mortification, the sight immediately sent a rush of blood to his dick. Jimin grit his teeth, steeling himself against his own fleshly desires. He wouldn’t let himself be played again.
Jimin was about to resist the offering and pull away when a little voice in the back of his head whispered, Why not?
A free blowjob is a free blowjob. Make him work. Make him pay for being a dick. Why not?
He looked down, meeting that dark, cajoling gaze, and said in a tone as cold as he could muster, “Well? What are you waiting for?” His voice was a bit shaky, but overall it was pretty good. He was proud.
Suga - no, Yoongi - smirked. He undid Jimin's fly and eased Jimin out of his boxer briefs. He was only half-hard, but that was embarrassing enough. There was something surreal about the moment. This was Min Yoongi on his knees. Min Yoongi about to suck his dick. Min Yoongi who circled his hand around the base of Jimin’s girth, stroking upwards once, making Jimin gasp.
He pressed a careful kiss to the tip, head tilted back, looking right into Jimin’s eyes. A shiver went down Jimin’s spine and his hips lifted, unconsciously seeking the warmth of Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi obliged, slipped his mouth over the head of Jimin’s cock and sucked.
Fuck. His hands found their way into Yoongi’s hair, fingers tangling into the soft strands, tugging at them when Yoongi’s mouth tightened on him, making Jimin moan. His tongue swirled deliciously around the head, and then he began to suck in earnest, hand twisting around the base in a counter-rhythm to the way he traced zig-zags over the sensitive underside. The heat in Jimin’s belly got tighter and tighter, he couldn’t stop staring at Yoongi’s lips as they moved up and down on him, couldn’t stop the helpless moans coming from the back of his throat.
There was no warning. Yoongi slid all the way down, taking all of Jimin, and then he- he swallowed. Jimin bucked, unable to restrain himself, instinctively thrusting forward. Yoongi choked, eyes watering. Fuck.
Jimin instantly felt a wave of shame. He was an animal. Yoongi didn’t deserve to be treated like that, even if he was a liar and a monster. Jimin cringed and tried to pull out, but Yoongi wouldn’t let go. He tugged on Yoongi’s hair. Finally he seemed to get the message and withdrew, tongue scraping against the bottom of Jimin’s cock.
“What?” His voice was raspy. “Was that too rough?”
Too rough? Jimin stared down at him, at his watery eyes and the saliva trail on his chin. He’d gagged so hard, it must have hurt. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” said Yoongi.
“You’re not.” Jimin felt awful. “I’m sorry.”
“For-” He clenched his hand in Yoongi’s hair. He couldn’t say the words.
Yoongi seemed to know what he meant, anyway. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It felt good. I understand. Nothing to be sorry about.”
He ducked his head and took Jimin into his mouth once more. He was so hard, so turned on it almost hurt, and everything Yoongi did to him pushed him further to the edge. As if sensing Jimin was close to his limit, Yoongi ramped it up, moving up and down in a sloppy rhythm that sent throbbing waves of arousal through him… Jimin’s fingers tightened in Yoongi’s hair once more… he tried to hold it at bay, wanted to last longer, to prolong the pleasure… but it was pointless. He came, white-hot bliss coursing through his veins.
Jimin felt boneless in the rush of endorphins that washed over him. Yoongi nuzzled his stomach as he waited for Jimin to recover. He pressed a kiss to Jimin’s rib, his breath warm and ticklish, and pulled away, slowly rising to his feet. Jimin released his grip on Yoongi’s hair, letting him stand, until they were face to face.
Jimin’s legs were shaky. He stumbled backwards, into the living room, and sat on the nearest flat surface: the tiny coffee table strewn with Taehyung’s lecture notes. Yoongi followed, bending over him, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He felt both sated and annoyed with himself for still feeling so deeply attracted to Min Yoongi despite it all.
Yoongi stroked his face. Jimin sighed. He let himself enjoy it for a moment, basking in the post-orgasmic glow. He’d push Yoongi away in a second. Just a bit more of this, since it was likely going to be the last time ever. His skin felt clammy, and even though Yoongi had swallowed - Jimin’s stomach clenched hotly at the memory - there was still cum on his t-shirt. It felt like evidence of his weakness. He lifted it away from his stomach, peeling the fabric from his sweaty skin and pulled it off completely. He didn’t care if it gave the wrong impression.
Yoongi stared down, studying the lines of Jimin’s abs. He did it for so long Jimin started feeling self-conscious. “What? Quit staring.”
“No matter how many times I see it,” Yoongi muttered, brushing his hands over Jimin’s belly, “I’m still shocked. You’re fucking hot as hell.”
Jimin didn’t think he could flush any harder, but those words made his face feel like it would burst into flames.
“What the hell is wrong with Jin,” Yoongi went on, still massaging Jimin’s abs. “I don’t fucking understand. He had you under his thumb all this time and never made a move-- what an idiot.” A smug look entered his eyes. “Whatever. His loss.”
“That’s--” Jimin tried to speak, but his voice came out strangled and high pitched. He couldn’t meet Yoongi’s eyes, he felt far too shy and exposed.
Yoongi leaned in, kissed the side of Jimin’s neck. His voice went gentle, much gentler than Jimin had ever heard it sound. “I swear, Jimin. I wasn’t trying to trick you.”
He stroked Jimin’s thigh. Not for the usual reasons - to rile him up or to make him horny - but in a way that felt… soothing. Affectionate. The word popped into Jimin’s head again, so completely at odds with the impression Yoongi so forcefully put out into the world. Hard and sarcastic and mocking. He wasn’t any of those things now. He felt and sounded soft, pressing against Jimin, cuddling him.
“I thought at first you were playing along, teasing me. And then I thought you’d figure it out on your own. I was waiting for you to.”
Jimin melted under the coaxing. He knew Yoongi was trying to sweet-talk him, trying to make him capitulate and give in. He fought hard against it, but knew deep down he was a goner. He wasn’t even mad anymore. The mind-blowing blowjob had dissolved it almost completely.
“Maybe I wanted to torment you just a little,” Yoongi admitted. “It pissed me off that you were only interested in me because of Jin.”
Jimin found the strength to pull back, to look Yoongi in the face. “Really?”
“I fucking hate it when he meddles. I’m a fucking adult, I can take care of myself. Just because I was a bit… reckless... back in the day, he thinks I’m some kind of ticking time bomb. I’ll deal with him when he gets back. If he thinks he can get away with being a fucking gossip and filling your head with who fucking knows what about me, he can think again. I don’t appreciate misrepresentation.”
Jimin wanted to say, he just cares about you, but held back, understanding that Yoongi already knew that. Maybe he was right, too. Maybe Yoongi did have good reason to be pissed. He was complicated and hard to read, but not exactly the emotionally-unstable character Jin had painted him as. Maybe Jin - and Jimin - were in the wrong here. Jimin's anger dissipated even further. He swallowed, bitterly wishing he hadn’t agreed to Jin’s plan in the first place.
“What?” Yoongi asked, watching the emotions play out on Jimin’s face. “You’re making that face.”
“The cute one. When you’re thinking too hard.”
Acute embarrassment made Jimin squirm. He tried to play it off and grumbled, “I guess I’m just too dumb.”
“You’re not dumb.” Jimin snorted, but Yoongi insisted, “Just too trusting. It’s not a bad thing.” Another kiss, this one hard and ardent, as if Yoongi wanted to steal his soul. Jimin was breathless when they parted.
Yoongi wasn’t unaffected, either, judging from the way he panted against Jimin’s bottom lip. “I’ll give you a hundred blowjobs. I swear I will. Forgive me.”
Jimin’s heart threatened to explode out of his chest. He gripped the hem of Yoongi’s shirt in both hands, crushing the fabric in his palms, and finally, finally relented.
With a victorious gleam in his eye, Yoongi sank to his knees again. Jimin literally saw stars this time.
“Two down,” he said afterwards, making a show of wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Only fifty-three to go.”
“Ninety-eight,” said Jimin. He added, “I’ll die.”
“Come on, Yoongi--” Jimin tugged at his hand, pulling him to the last terminal. “Jin’s plane is landing right now, hurry up!”
“Like I fuckin’ care,” Yoongi grumbled, rubbing his left eye beneath the rim of his sunglasses. “Do you really have to call me that?”
“Yes,” said Jimin firmly. “Jin calls you Yoongi, and so does Hoseok.”
“I just want to,” Jimin said firmly, pouting slightly. He didn’t want to be left out of the Yoongi club, especially not once Jin was back.
Yoongi, as he had discovered, had a weakness for pouts. He didn’t argue any further and let Jimin drag him to the arrivals gate.
“Jin! Over here!”
Looking tanned and tall and unrepentantly handsome, Jin waved, wheeling his bulging suitcase over to meet them. He was pleasantly surprised to see Yoongi. “Hello! You both came!”
Yoongi grunted. It wasn’t exactly an enthusiastic greeting, but Jimin could tell from the way his mouth softened that he was glad to see Jin.
He waited a couple of heartbeats for Jin to notice their intertwined fingers. A puzzled look came over Jin’s face, the happy smile dropping. “What--”
Yoongi’s smirk practically radiated smugness. He draped an arm around Jimin’s neck and said, “He’s mine now. I don’t share.”
“Yoongi!” said Jimin and Jin simultaneously.
Jin seemed completely flabbergasted. He looked imploringly at Jimin, as if begging him to deny reality.
“We’re dating,” Jimin replied meekly. “We’ve been on three dates.”
“Four,” Yoongi cut in, exasperated.
“That first time doesn’t count.”
“Like hell it doesn’t,” Yoongi snapped, “I bought you a fuckin’ milkshake and walked you home--”
“I didn’t know so it doesn’t count,” Jimin explained to Jin, shaking his head. “It wasn’t fully consensual.”
Jin’s eyes began to bulge, which was not a good sign. Yoongi said firmly, “It was completely consensual. Don’t deny it. You wanted me from the moment you saw me.”
“Like you were any different!” Jimin shot back.
Yoongi smirked, acknowledging the statement as fact, and squeezed Jimin’s shoulder. He leaned in close, whispered so that only Jimin could hear, “Ninety-four.”
Jin saw it. His face went pale. “Jimin, no. ”
“Sorry,” said Jimin, before giving a Yoongi a quick peck on the lips. He’d learned a very important lesson, after all: he wasn’t going to listen to Jin anymore.
Pasting a cheerful smile onto his face, Jimin exclaimed, “Anyway, I’ll carry your bag for you! I’ve been working out!”