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85 Days of Summer

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“Okay, pack up, bro, we’re going to the beach.”

 

Yoongi looked up from his phone to see Namjoon sashay into their shared apartment without a care in the world. He looked too happy, and on most occasions, Yoongi would be happy as well that Namjoon looked like he got laid (about time, really), but it was, unfortunately, not one of his most occasions. Yoongi scowled at him from his position on the sofa—sprawled out like an octopus with one of his legs resting on the cold surface of their tiny, rickety coffee table, and the other hitched up on the sofa’s backrest. He refreshed his Twitter feed on his phone mindlessly one more time before letting it drop altogether to the floor, narrowly missing his eye on its short way down.

 

“But it’s summer,” Yoongi griped out, injecting as much venom and loathing as he could into those three words. He rolled over lazily, letting his legs drop away from their perch so that he could instead press his warm skin against the cooling wooden floorboards of their apartment. “Why are we going to the fucking beach?”

 

Namjoon threw him a weak glare, lips pressed into a thin line as he made his way into his own room. Yoongi heard him bump into his desk, followed by a muttered cursed under his breath before the sound of his closet door opening followed. “Precisely because it’s summer, hyung—summer means the beach.”

 

“No, it doesn’t. Summer means an ungodly rise in temperature enough to melt my fucking skin off my bones, that’s what it fucking means—not the beach.” Yoongi carefully sat up from the floor, watching as Namjoon lumbered out of his room toting behind him a small blue suitcase. Yoongi frowned and moved to get up when Namjoon ignored him to invade his room instead, but thought better of it when he heard the faint sound of Seokjin’s black pickup pulling up in front of their building. He knew that against the Power Couple Kims, he would never win. “The fuck are you doing in my room,” he griped out instead, sounding completely defeated.

 

Namjoon let out a grunt before answering. “Packing up for your lazy ass,” He yelled, loud voice wafting out from Yoongi’s room amidst the sound of him accidentally toppling over something (and possibly breaking said something—Yoongi closed his eyes in resignation), “oops, shit—uh, hyung, you love me more than you love your CD rack, don’t you?”

 

Yoongi didn’t say anything, sighing deeply as the door opened with a grand flourish. Seokjin traipsed into their living space, a bright sunny smile on his face and a pair of dark sunglasses perched on top of his head, pushing his soft brown hair back. Yoongi scowled at him. “Please get your sunny ass out of here, Jin-hyung. I don’t want to go.”

 

Seokjin tutted loudly, wagging his finger as he practically slid across the room to reach Yoongi, pulling him up by his arm and patting his cheek patronizingly much like a mother would to her child. “Oh, Yoongi. Where is your summer spirit?!”

 

“Nonexistent, along with my motivation to meet my fucking deadline. So really, I’m not going. Don’t want to. I’m busy,” Yoongi mumbled, rolling his eyes when Seokjin giggled obnoxiously as he squeezed his cheeks, “stop it.”

 

“Well—just come with us, maybe you’ll find some inspiration there! When’s your deadline, anyway?” Seokjin finally let go of his face, plopping down on the couch and looking up at Yoongi expectantly.

 

“End of summer,” he mumbled darkly, suddenly feeling annoyed as he remembered the deadline for his part-time job at some photography magazine company he worked at. He dropped back down next to Seokjin, huffing irritably as he crossed his arms over his chest. So sue him, he was feeling a little irritated that most university seniors like him (specifically, Seokjin and Namjoon, those chill fuckers) were so ready to enjoy the summer, but there he was, wallowing in his dry unmotivated cave of self-pity and existential quarter life crisis.

 

Beside him, Seokjin hummed in understanding. He reached out to pat Yoongi’s bare shoulder lightly. Yoongi isn’t sure if it was meant to be encouraging, sympathizing, or patronizing. “Hm, what are you supposed to do for the project, anyway?”

 

Yoongi grunted lowly as he shrugged, playing with a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. “It’s for this like, zine the company releases biannually. A bunch of us part timers are supposed to hand in a photoset of whatever theme they choose. They want us to show ‘beauty ’. I don’t even fucking know, hyung, I’m pretty sure they’d kick me out if I passed in some generic picture, and it’s not like my own pride would allow me to submit something half-assed.”

 

Seokjin leaned into his personal space, a smile on his face as he rubbed Yoongi’s shoulder soothingly. “Well, you know, doing something unexpected and going places can jog up the good ol’ idea factory up there, you know? Just come with us, Yoongi, it’s just for this summer,” he said, grinning at Yoongi as if he knew already that Yoongi was going to give in anyway, “besides, you can’t not go—I’ve booked your ticket already.”

 

Yoongi rolled his eyes, shrugging off Seokjin’s hand as he pushed himself up. From his room, he could hear Namjoon cursing up a storm as he looked for Yoongi’s clothes. He shot Seokjin a look as he made his way to his room to try and save his personal things from Namjoon’s clumsy wrath. “I’m blaming you if all I get this summer is sunburn.”

 

 

 

 

The whole flight wasn’t a climactic affair (aside from Namjoon and Seokjin making it their personal mission to act like they were Yoongi’s parents, fussing over him and making Yoongi feel utterly embarrassed as some passengers shot them weird looks—he’s pretty sure some of them thought it was some kind of weird sexual fantasy threesome they were having. Fuck). Once the plane landed and they’d gotten their luggage out, Yoongi hurriedly stepped out, glaring at his friends and keeping a safe distance from their overly touchy hands. He hitched his bag higher on his shoulder as he followed the couple to a waiting taxi. He sat up front beside the pudgy and happy-looking driver, idly listening to Namjoon rattle off in English some beach resort’s address to the old man before Yoongi let himself doze off, the quiet hum of the taxi lulling him to sleep.

 

When he opened his eyes again, it was to Seokjin’s excited face shaking him awake. He groggily stepped out of the cab, one hand mindlessly fixing his rumpled white tee and the other holding his camera bag carefully. He let out a soft appreciative hum as he let his eyes wander over the beach resort that Seokjin had reserved.

 

The first thing he noticed (and maybe the most important thing to Yoongi), was that there weren’t many people in the resort as far as he could see. No kids, no loud rowdy families—just a handful of people either their age, or old quiet couples. An average sized yet impressive looking two-floored hotel stood to the right of the whole resort, soft and colorful fairy lights blinking from the roof gutters. The second thing that he noticed (and greatly approved of) was that the whole place had a secluded atmosphere to it. When Yoongi was meeting an art stump, silence and solitude were one of the things he looked for. Already, he was feeling hope for his project at his part time work, and for a good vacation.

 

“This looks nice,” he commented offhandedly, trudging across the front of the resort after Namjoon and Seokjin as they led the way.

 

“Isn’t it!” Seokjin chirped cheerfully, glancing back at Yoongi before looking at the looming hotel in front of them. Behind the hotel was the beach, Yoongi could tell, and he squinted lightly at the setting sun painting everything a soft shade of pink and orange and purple. “My cousin once went here for his school trip, and when I saw the pictures, I’ve been itching to go. Thankfully, we’re finally free this summer break.”

 

Yoongi hummed lowly in response. They quickly got to the reception, getting rooms for themselves (“listen ,” Yoongi had quickly cut in when Seokjin asked for a room for three, “as much as I love you guys, I don’t have any desire to hear you two fuck so I’ll get a room for myself. I can pay,”). Yoongi got a room two doors down from his friends, and as he moved to enter his own, Seokjin called out after him.

 

“Yoongi, we’ll be going out after a few minutes to eat dinner. You coming?”

 

Yoongi shook his head, letting a small smile grow on his face. Despite his initial aversion to the beach, he was really thankful that his friends had even bothered to drag his sorry salty ass all the way down to such a nice relaxing place—he was aware he could use some fresh air (and not the stale man-scent his apartment had been sporting for the last few days). Seokjin smiled back at him. Yoongi waved his hand dismissively, already turning the doorknob to his room with his other hand. “Nah, hyung, you go enjoy the night with Namjoon. I’ll be fine by myself—need to rack up the good ol’ idea factory, right?”

 

Seokjin rolled his eyes in good humor before nodding his head, letting Namjoon enter first with their suitcase. “Well, we’ll leave you be, I suppose. We’re only two doors down if you need us, okay?”

 

Yoongi nodded, watching as Seokjin smiled again before entering their room. Yoongi looked at their closed door for a few breaths before slipping into his own room.

 

It was a quaint, cozy little thing, and it definitely had summer vibes, the usual tropical trinkets scattered here and there. The bed sheet was a bright sky blue color, the walls a pale yellow bordering on beige. Hanging from the windows were colorful tribal beads, and sitting on the bedside table was a rather cute but fake cactus with an equally fake pink flower sitting on top. The balcony opened onto the beach, a beautiful landscape of white sand and calm waves painted purple and pink by the setting sun. He inhaled softly, breathing in the soft yet salty sea air—it really had been a while since he’d been this close to any form of nature. He leaned on the door frame of the balcony, squinting a little to see a small accessible cliff not far from the beach house. Placing his bag down on the bed, he pulled off his cap and took out his camera. He wasn’t really hungry, so he might as well try and look around for something for his project, something that could maybe stir his creativity, get him into the mood, make him see something beautiful that, hopefully, wasn’t the usual generic bullshit he saw in photo magazines.

 

He set out to the beach, scowling a little when he stepped too quickly and ended up getting sand in his shoes. “Fuck,” he hissed out under his breath, huffing before opting to just ignore the little mishap he’d gotten his shoes into. This was why he didn’t particularly like the beach—a day in it would definitely burn you, and the sand. Don’t forget the fucking sand. He sighed heavily, trekking forward with his eyes set on the little cliff at the end of the beach, just beyond the small forest surrounding the whole resort.

 

Let it be known that Yoongi is a city man, through and through. The small forest leading to the small cliff he was adamant on going to was not something Yoongi had expected. There were too many bugs, too many leaves, too many roots to trip on (and subsequently, crush his precious camera and that was the last thing he wanted to happen). Suffice it to say that Yoongi was glad no one was around to hear him yelp a little too shrilly when something brushed by his ankle. Still, he arrived in one healthy piece. By the time he did, the sun had fully set, and the darkening purple sky was making way for a thick blanket of twinkling stars. All of his previous complaints went away with the fresh sea breeze that welcomed him to the clearing on the cliff. If the view from the balcony of his room was pretty, the one on the cliff was downright gorgeous and breathtaking, seemingly worlds apart from the beach house a few minutes away. The whole clearing was a long strip of bare rock jutting out from the hill the forest was on, and Yoongi was atop on just one end of it.

 

Not about to waste a possible good shot, Yoongi scrambled to lift up his camera, clicking away to try and catch the absolute perfection that he was seeing. He moved closer to the cliff, frowning a bit at his viewfinder when he couldn’t find the perfect shot. “Seriously,” he huffed out under his breath, shifting his camera around to maybe get a chance shot—still no luck. He closed his eyes as he let his camera rest back against his chest, the strap pressing around his neck. Just as he was about to sit down and drown himself in the atmosphere, something—or some one , Yoongi figured—gasped loudly from the other end of the cliff, sounding so surprised and awed and just happy. Yoongi almost jumped out of his skin in surprise, but managed not to embarrass himself any further by screaming like a little girl. He turned his head to the side, trying to squint and find whoever it was. Trees blocked his view, and begrudgingly, Yoongi moved to find out the source of the ominous gasp.

 

He reached the trees soon enough, and he cautiously moved around it, quietly pushing past the leaves and straining his eyes against the semi-darkness of the night. The stars could only provide enough light. When he finally found the source of the noise, a soft, “oh ”, left his lips.

 

Standing on the edge of the cliff was a boy—no, a young man, maybe? As far as Yoongi could tell from the boy’s silhouette, he looked like he could be his age, there was something youthful about him. Yoongi couldn’t see anything else specific aside from his silhouette, his hair lightly dancing in the wind as he stood precariously on the edge of the cliff, which was probably really fucking dangerous. Yoongi suddenly jolted back into his senses, the situation dawning on him, and he hurriedly moved out onto the clearing.

 

“Hey—”

 

Yoongi’s words ground to a halt when the boy launched himself off the cliff. Feeling his throat constrict with fear because shit, did that boy just jump to his fucking death , Yoongi dashed to the cliff’s edge, sliding to his knees and gripping the cliff edge tightly as he looked down onto the murky waters of the ocean, waves lapping and crashing against the bottom of the cliff relentlessly. Yoongi looked hard, waiting with bated breath for a person to pop out of the water. Cold sweat beaded on his skin as the seconds ticked by.

 

“Shit, shit, shit, fuck ,” Yoongi mumbled under his breath, leaning just a bit closer more, “did he really—did he fucking jump—”

 

After an agonizing minute of senseless wild theories ranging from cracked skulls to sharks and to the freaking Bermuda triangle, the boy finally emerged from deep within the water, arms moving to keep himself afloat, the stars not enough to illuminate him but Yoongi could tell he was fine. He rose out of the water like a goddamn mermaid, and Yoongi watched with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as the boy ran his hand through his wet hair, mouth open as he laughed happily, sweetly, breathlessly.

 

“Oh,” Yoongi found himself saying again that night, his mind stilling, his heart suddenly beating too fast for his liking and beach-muddled thinking, as he kept on watching the beautiful boy in the water, swimming like he was born to do it, laughing like he was the personification of happiness itself, “oh.”

 

 

 

 

“Yoongi? Did you hear me?”

 

Yoongi blinked in surprise, looking up from his plate of soggy, sad looking egg and ham sandwich to the confused face of Seokjin. Namjoon snapped his fingers in front of Yoongi’s face, earning himself a scowl. “What?”

 

“Hyung, you were spacing out since we sat down for breakfast,” Namjoon explained, eyebrow cocked up and looking mildly concerned. He leaned over a bit, eyeing Yoongi’s face closely. “Are you okay, hyung?”

 

Images of the boy in the water suddenly came flooding back, and Yoongi frowned in deep thought. He wanted to punch himself in the face because really—that could have been his shot. The boy had looked so at peace with nature, fluidly moving and becoming one with the waves and the sea breeze, with only the stars (and Yoongi, but the boy didn’t know that) as his audience—the boy was beautiful, and Yoongi honestly believed he fit their biannual photoset theme perfectly. Still, Yoongi had been so awestruck it didn’t even register into his mind that he had been partially crushing his camera with his weight, let alone actually move it against his eyes and take a shot, his gaze and mind solely focused on the boy in the water. Of course, he wasn’t about to tell his two nosy best friends that a boy was haunting his thoughts—they’d take it the wrong way, the fuckers. So he nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just—a little tired. Sunburnt.”

 

“We arrived dinner time, there wasn’t any sun yesterday to burn you,” Seokjin deadpanned flatly, shoveling a spoonful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

 

“Well, then—moonburnt, whatever,” Yoongi shot back easily, a little too loudly, and somewhere behind him, he heard someone giggle. Hushed, but it sounded familiar—a little happy, a little sweet, a little breathless. Before he could turn around to try and see who it was, Seokjin plowed on.

 

“You know what, I don’t even want to know, but,” he said firmly, flicking Yoongi’s knuckle when he made a face at Seokjin, “you are coming tonight, right?”

 

Yoongi furrowed his brows in confusion. “Tonight? The fuck’s happening?”

 

Seokjin sighed, lifting a hand to massage the bridge of his nose. “You really weren’t listening. Okay, well, listen , you midget.”

 

“I’m not a fucking mid—”

 

Listen . There’s kind of like this, beach summer party thing this resort does, well, every summer. Jungkook—my cousin—tells me it’s really fun and chill, free drinks for everybody and some good music to set the night. We’re going—and you are, too,” Seokjin decided firmly, leaving no room for argument, but Yoongi wasn’t one to back down. He really just wanted to be by himself, maybe find that boy again and ask him for pictures. He really, really wanted to meet his deadline. As dead end of a part time job as it was, it was something Yoongi liked doing. Asking pretty boys for pictures is a hurdle he was ready to jump over.

 

“I don’t want to go,” he complained, dropping his ham sandwich back onto his plate.

 

“You’re going, and then we’ll leave you alone for the rest of our stay here. I promise.”

 

Yoongi leaned back in his seat, shrugging his shoulders and ignoring his sandwich, watching as Seokjin smiled gratefully at him before he turned to talk to Namjoon in low hushed whispers. Belatedly, Yoongi remembered the person who had giggled behind him. He swiveled around, feeling a little disappointed to see the tables behind him already empty. Two tables away from him, a single blue plate and a glass of orange juice were sitting on the table.

 

 

 

 

True enough to Seokjin’s words (or his cousin’s, whatever), the summer party thing was a pretty nice, pretty chill affair. With how few the guests were, the whole thing felt just a tad intimate, something simple to welcome the summer with. Namjoon and Seokjin were hanging around by the huge bonfire (“what the fuck,” Yoongi had breathed out in pure awe at the sheer size of it), and obviously, Yoongi preferred the quiet bar over the dancing happening by the said bonfire (it was really beginning to look a lot like some kind of cult ritual, and he wanted no part in it, thank you). Yoongi sat alone by the bar, drinking just a bit of alcohol to give him a little buzz as he bobbed his head slightly to the soft Hawaiian music wafting from the speakers placed atop some bamboo poles. Over by the bonfire, Seokjin tripped on something, and Namjoon laughed at him. Yoongi found himself smiling a bit before he tipped his glass up to his lips, sipping a little.

 

“The bonfire thing looks weird, but it’s fun, you know.”

 

Yoongi swallowed a little too quickly, the voice startling him, and the fact that he was hearing his own language in a foreign land caught him off guard. He leaned over, fist thumping on his chest as he tried to not die from fucking choking. He shut his eyes tightly at the discomfort, a warm hand soon pressing on his back, rubbing and thumping in regular intervals. He waved his hand dismissively as he tried to signal that he was okay already, feeling the lodged sensation in his throat dissipating gradually.

 

“I-I’m fine,” he gritted out, coughing hoarsely and swallowing thickly.

 

“Oh, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the boy, his voice soft and melodic, mumbled shyly as he withdrew his hand from Yoongi’s back, “I’m sorry—again.”

 

“It’s—it’s fine,” Yoongi coughed out, inhaling deeply as he straightened up and finally opened his eyes again, using the knuckle of his finger to wipe some stray tears. He turned to the boy sitting next to him, and suddenly felt the wind get knocked out of his system (again, Jesus). The boy next to him was, well, breathtaking, with copper hair framing his chubby face. He was wearing an oversized cream colored knit sweater, just a little bit see through, his fingers barely peeking past the sleeves—and, well, he was utterly adorable —and Yoongi, oh, he had always had a type . “Oh,” Yoongi couldn’t help but breathe out, a little breathlessly, and the boy smiled at him, teeth biting down on his lips—pink, and plump, and glistening with—lip balm, maybe? A drink?

 

“It’s just, I saw you alone here at the bar, and I noticed you looking at the bonfire, and I thought that, ‘ah, maybe he’s just shy! ’, so like, I figured I’d help you out, and, well—yeah, I’m sorry for startling you,” the boy’s rambling voice tapers off to a whisper punctuated by breathy giggles, and he wrings his hands together on his lap nervously, “I-I’m Jimin. Park Jimin. I hope you’re enjoying your stay here?”

 

Yoongi couldn’t help but stare . He wasn’t an idiot (most of the time), and as a photographer, he knew what was pretty (and he knew his type, damn it), and the boy—Jimin—was honestly quite the looker, a sight for sore eyes, with his messy copper hair and flushed cheeks, lips pink and plush, a nose so cute (honestly, Yoongi doesn’t know how he found a fucking nose cute, but, well). He quickly glanced away after realizing that he had been staring unabashedly at the boy. He cleared his throat, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back coolly against the edge of the bar counter. Jimin followed his every movement with bright, brown eyes, the corners of his lips upturned into a small, natural smile. “I guess. I’ve just been here a day. It’s been great, so far.”

 

Jimin suddenly clapped his hands, turning to face Yoongi like an excited little puppy. If Yoongi squinted hard enough, maybe he’d be able to see puppy ears and a puppy tail wagging behind the boy (as it turned out, Yoongi didn’t squint nor look—not when the boy’s sweater was slipping off one shoulder and revealing his collarbones, his smooth, fair skin—too much, Yoongi thought). “Oh, you’re not from around here—or at least, not a summer regular. I didn’t recognize you.”

 

“You make it sound like you’re always here, kid,” Yoongi said, giving Jimin a sidelong glance as he took another sip from his drink. For a brief moment, Yoongi wondered how the boy would look through his viewfinder.

 

“It’s Jimin, I’m not a kid. I’m twenty two. And yes, I am always here, in fact. I live here! My folks own the place,” he states, a proud little grin blossoming on his face and it’s contagious, making Yoongi smile despite himself. “So, what’s your name? Or are you like, going for the mysterious vibe and you’ll just keep me guessing until you leave?”

 

Yoongi couldn’t help chuckling, glancing at Jimin again and swiping lazily at him with one hand. Jimin ducked away, giggling behind his hand as he watched Yoongi settle back in his seat. Yoongi licked his lips as he looked out at the horizon, mind buzzing with a million thoughts. He had until the first of September to do his project. He could take his time. Over at the beach, Namjoon was somehow on his knees now, doing some weird waving dance with his arms while Seokjin almost passed out from laughing a few feet away. Yoongi smiled. “The name’s Min Yoongi.”

 

Jimin cocked his head to the side as he pressed his joined hands together between his knees, tilting forward a bit to look at Yoongi’s face. He smiled, only his lips curving up into a gentle and shy smile, his cheeks bunching up and making his eyes turn into crescent slits. “Nice to meet you, Min Yoongi!”

 

 

(After one too many smiles, Yoongi found himself foregoing his drink in favor of watching the way Jimin’s cheeks bunched up from his bright smiles. Yoongi had to admit that though he may not be looking for something at the moment, he was fairly attracted to the boy.)

 

 

 

 

“Oh? Where are your friends?”

 

Yoongi looked up from his phone to see Jimin standing next to his table, eyes wide as he blinked at Yoongi curiously. He was holding a small pink carton of milk and a rice ball in the other. They locked eyes for a few seconds before Yoongi glanced back down at his phone, shrugging his shoulders. “They went on that boat thing.”

 

“Boat thing?” Jimin quietly pulled out the chair beside Yoongi, plopping himself down and facing him like he did the previous night. He really reminded Yoongi of an excitable little puppy. “You mean the daily ferry to the small islands near here? The island tour?”

 

“Yeah, that one,” Yoongi mumbled lowly, straightening up in his seat and quirking an eyebrow at Jimin, “but how’d you know I’m with my friends? Did you stalk me, kid?”

 

“No, I did not, and again, it’s not kid. I’m Park Jimin, remember it, Min Yoongi,” he huffed out petulantly before leaning closer, grinning at Yoongi cutely, “why didn’t you go with them?”

 

“You’re too fucking nosy, kid.” Yoongi took a sip from his cooling coffee, one hand mindlessly scrolling through his Twitter feed on his phone. He fought back an amused smile when Jimin clicked his tongue in annoyance. Yoongi couldn’t help teasing the kid. He was too cute, too excitable. “Don’t you have some kiddy thing to do?”

 

“For your information, I am twen—”

 

“—ty two years old, yes, you may have mentioned that last night—”

 

“—and I am not a kid. I mean, I bet you’re the same age as me,” he bit out, placing his milk and rice ball on the table so that he could cross his arms across his puffed out chest, a pout adorning his chubby face. Yoongi quirked an eyebrow at the slight flush on his cheeks.

 

“I’m twenty four,” Yoongi offered simply, eyeing Jimin as the boy’s mouth hung open in an apparent display of annoyance, “I’m older so you shouldn’t talk back to me, kid.”

 

“Whatever,” Jimin mumbled, deflating in his seat and using both his hands to hold his milk carton, pressing his lips around the short straw and sipping loudly on purpose. Yoongi gave him a withering glare, and Jimin swallowed before grinning, straw stuck between his clenched teeth. He pulled the straw out suddenly, his previous (fake, really) annoyance gone in favor of another wave of excitement. “Are you busy today? Your friends aren’t with you, so you’re free, right?”

 

Yoongi sat up straighter, giving Jimin a wary glance. “…I’m not letting you abduct me.”

 

Jimin snorted, his hands flying to his face to cover his smile. He shook his head (cutely), copper locks shaking softly with his every move. Yoongi found himself holding his breath, transfixed with the cute way Jimin’s face scrunched up in glee. Jimin swatted his arm playfully, and only then did Yoongi remember to breathe. “I’m not going to abduct you, don’t be silly. I just want to show you around!”

 

“No, thanks, kid.” Yoongi moved to get up from his seat when Jimin’s hands suddenly shot out and grabbed his arm. Yoongi’s eyes widened a fraction from surprise, staring at the younger boy who looked up at him with big, pleading puppy eyes. Yoongi cocked an eyebrow up. He prided himself on being stubborn, but it seemed to him that Min Yoongi was a weak man in the face of a begging Park Jimin. “What?”

 

“Humor me, hyung, please? You’re literally the only young Korean person here right now,” Jimin pleaded, shifting his chair closer and grinning at Yoongi, “hang out with me? I’m bored.”

 

Yoongi may or may not have stared at Jimin’s lips for too long, curled up into a small pout and looking all sorts of disrespectful. He’d called him hyung —Yoongi’s sure—and the way it rolled off Jimin’s tongue was, well. Very different from the way Namjoon says it. He cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away from Jimin’s face. Before he could respond with something snarky (and not the weak, defeated yeah, sure fighting its way out of his mouth—how was he already this soft for the boy), a loud booming voice suddenly echoed around the hotel’s breakfast nook. Yoongi jumped a little, Jimin yelped in surprise.

 

“Jiminnie! There you fucking are.” Standing by the café’s door was a boy around Jimin’s age, dark brown hair pulled back by a headband. He was wearing an obnoxiously bright green Hawaiian shirt and a pair of loose yellow pants, and Yoongi squinted a little at the deliberate cuts scattered on the fabric. “I’ve been looking for you—well, your mom made me look for you—but here you are, seducing that hot unknowing guy for some good dicking down.”

 

“Shut u—Kim Taehyung, fucking delete yourself!” Jimin shrieked a little too loudly, hands leaving Yoongi’s arms as he propelled himself forward to most likely throttle said Kim Taehyung. Yoongi just watched them in silence, a little amused at their interaction. Even from behind, Yoongi could tell that Jimin’s ears and cheeks were burning red. He fought back a smile.

 

“Whatever,” Taehyung declared cheekily, a boxy grin on his face as he picked his way through the tables and stomped over to Jimin. He grabbed him by the forearm, and Yoongi finally couldn’t fight back the smile on his face when Jimin let out a long drawn out whine, trying to pull himself free. “Come on , you ho. Your mom needs you, something about the hotel’s inventory or some shit. I don’t know why I’m the one always looking for you, Jesus.”

 

“Because you’re my best friend, duh ,” Jimin grumbled out, glancing back longingly at Yoongi, “sorry, Yoongi-hyung, uhm. Can we hang out soon?”

 

Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung repeated suspiciously, suddenly looking over Jimin’s shoulder and squinting at Yoongi, “I’m Taehyung, Jiminnie’s best friend for life, the only man he’ll ever need—probably, but what I wanted to say was—isn’t Jiminnie gorgeous?”

 

Yoongi stared at him, swallowing subtly and nodding his head once in acknowledgment, and trying to ignore the little part inside him that wanted to outwardly agree to Taehyung’s statement. Jimin swatted Taehyung’s shoulder, clicking his tongue again. “Oh my God, Tae, just go , stop terrorizing the guests!”

 

Yoongi watched as Jimin pushed Taehyung out of the hotel’s café, Taehyung’s loud voice and Jimin’s constant light punches garnering them attention from the other café goers. Before Jimin left the room entirely, he glanced back at Yoongi again, smiling shyly, cheeks as flushed as ever, before ducking out of sight. Yoongi shook his head, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling as he put his attention back on his phone.

 

 

(Jimin clung on tightly to Taehyung’s arms as they traversed down the hotel lobby. Once they were a good distance away, Jimin pulled free and pinched Taehyung on the side, making the taller boy wince and whine in pain.

 

“Ow, what the fuck?!” Taehyung made a face at Jimin, and Jimin just made a show of pulling back his arm and threatening to sock him in the face. “What’d I do?!”

 

“That was him , you little shit! Don’t embarrass me in front of him!” Jimin stomped his foot, cupping his face and groaning at how warm his cheeks were. He glanced back to the general direction of the hotel café, and when he deemed it safe, he turned back to Taehyung. “I can’t believe you just shouted in the damn café that I wanted him to fuck me. You suck.”

 

“That was who? Wha—listen, Chim, you need to start being specific,” Taehyung mumbled out, following close as Jimin started walking.

 

“That was,” Jimin started, crossing his arms over his chest, pouting as he realized how embarrassing Taehyung’s entrance had been, “that was the cute guy I saw. The one who checked in like, two days ago.”

 

Oh,” Taehyung breathed out, a tone of understanding lacing his words. He caught up to Jimin, leaning into his space to grin apologetically at him. “I didn’t know?”

 

“Obviously. Actually, even if you knew, I’m pretty sure you’d still scream that I wanted his dick,” Jimin accused, glaring at his best friend as they turned a corner, his mother’s office standing at the end of the hallway.

 

“So you do want some good ol’ classic dicking?”

 

“Good ol’ cl—fuck you, Tae.”

 

“Nah, the guy earlier. Fuck him, not me.”

 

“I hate you.”)

 

 

 

 

After the little amusing incident with Jimin and Taehyung that morning, Yoongi found his thoughts drifting back to the way Jimin had looked so embarrassed, cheeks red and eyes wide as he tried to save the situation. It made Yoongi smile, the image, but he didn’t want to dwell on it—not yet, so he found himself browsing through his camera’s gallery as he trekked up the hill and through the forest again. He was starting to regret wearing beach shorts and a loose tank top because he could feel everything brush against his skin, and it didn’t do anything to calm his nerves. He hated bugs, okay. He’s a city boy—always have, always will be. To steer his mind away from creepy things with too many legs, he focused on the screen of his camera, shots from the previous night beaming up at him. He still felt a little bummed out that he didn’t get a shot of the boy in the water. It had been an enchanting image, if he was going to be honest.

 

As he pushed through the leaves and bushes, Yoongi stood in the little clearing on top of the cliff again, admiring the view once more. Up there, he could barely hear the hustle and bustle of the beach resort. He walked until the edge, carefully sitting down and letting his legs dangle over it. He stopped browsing through his gallery, lifting up the camera and just taking pictures of whatever he could shoot. The twinkling stars giving everything beneath them a soft glow, the dark murky waves at the bottom of the cliff, the visible lights of the resort reflecting softly on the waves—he clicked away, feeling that familiar ease and comfort he always felt when he was behind the lens.

 

A soft rustling caught his attention, making him slowly lower his camera to his chest as he turned around to where the sound came from. Under the dim lighting, Yoongi had to squint to see. He could partially see someone moving closer from where Yoongi had come from, and Yoongi found himself making a small questioning sound as Jimin walked out, dressed in a black and white striped tee shirt and red beach shorts, a white fluffy towel hanging over his shoulder. Jimin stopped in his tracks when he saw Yoongi sitting on the ledge staring at him.

 

“…Yoongi-hyung?” He called out curiously, voice soft and full of wonder as he took slow steps closer. He pulled the towel off, bunching it up in his hands as he pressed it to his face, seemingly embarrassed. Why exactly, Yoongi doesn’t know. “Why are you here?”

 

“Uhm. Just. Hanging out,” Yoongi mumbled lowly, swinging his legs a bit. He watched as Jimin approached him, obviously deliberating if he should sit down or not. Yoongi jerked his chin towards the empty spot next to him, and Jimin finally sat down.

 

“I…I see you’ve found my secret place.” Jimin pulled his legs up, folding his knees against his chest and wrapping his arms around them, cheek pressed against them as he glanced at Yoongi. “Isn’t it pretty here?”

 

“It is, but your secret place isn’t exactly a secret.” Yoongi turned to face him, suddenly remembering the boy from two nights ago. Jimin had mentioned that he was practically always here, living in the resort, so maybe—maybe he knew the boy? Yoongi just knew that he needed to see the boy. As embarrassing as it was to admit, he felt that the mysterious boy in the water may very well be his muse. There was this certain pull . “I saw someone else here. A boy. Like, two nights ago. Would you, uh, happen to know him?”

 

Jimin’s cheeks suddenly flushed a deep pink as he looked at Yoongi, brown eyes wide in surprise. He pressed his lips into a thin line before his tongue darted out to lick at it. Yoongi had to forcefully tear his gaze away from his lips. “Two nights ago? Wh-why are you looking for this, uh, boy?”

 

Yoongi lifted his camera up, waving it around a bit. “I’ve got this project thing, and, well, I’d really like to take pictures of him. It sounds fucking weird, but. Yeah. He’s kind of what I’m looking for.”

 

“Oh,” Jimin breathed out, voice sounding a little too winded, a little too breathless given the rather calm situation they were in. He twiddled his fingers together, eyes downcast. Yoongi glanced away, occasionally looking back at Jimin to see him still looking deep in thought, cheeks an adorable shade of pink. “W-was he…uhm, he jumped. Off this cliff. Didn’t he?”

 

“You know him?” Yoongi asked, sounding hopeful, because really, all he wanted to do was finish his project, whip up something perfect and enjoy the rest of his vacation in relative peace in his hotel room, maybe watch some Netflix and catch up with some of his shows if any of them were available in the resort’s cable program (he was hoping they had Korean subtitles, too).

 

Jimin looked up at him, smiling shyly as he lifted a finger up and pointed at himself. He didn’t say anything else, just looked at Yoongi curiously, waiting, and Yoongi stared back, their gazes locked on each other. Yoongi blinked once, twice, thrice, before he let out a soft, ‘ah ’, finally piecing everything together. Jimin’s smile softened as he dropped his hand back onto his lap, shrugging his shoulders a bit.

 

“That was you.” Yoongi didn’t say it as a question, rather more as something to fill the awkward silence with. His finger fiddled with the zooming piece around his camera lens, his eyes tracing the side profile of Jimin’s face. “…what a coincidence.”

 

“I know, funny, isn’t it?” Jimin giggled airily, his cheeks bunching up under his eyes, and Yoongi is once again reminded of how beautiful Jimin was, all soft curves and warm colors. Jimin bit his lip as he turned his head to look at Yoongi, a bright twinkle in his eyes and a mischievous, teasing upturn to his lips. “What’s your theme? You said it fit me.”

 

Yoongi released a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding in. He shrugged his shoulders, feeling his cheeks heat up at his next words because it was one thing to be brave in your mind and fantasies, and another when you actually have to be brave and act it out. In person. He licked his lips as he glanced away, feeling the tiniest bit of warmth bloom in his cheeks. “…beauty.”

 

Jimin cocked his head to the side, eyes bright and inquisitive, gazing at Yoongi like he was the only thing Jimin could see, the only thing he could be bothered with to care about at that moment. “Beauty?”

 

“Don’t make me fucking repeat it, kid,” Yoongi snapped, clicking his tongue as he pulled one leg up and wrapped an arm around his knee, scowling down at the water in his attempt to avoid Jimin’s teasing smile, “you heard me.”

 

Jimin laughed quietly, mostly to himself, and Yoongi saw him nod in understanding through his peripheral vision. A comfortable silence passed between them. Jimin hummed contentedly under his breath as he stared out at the sea, the waves swallowing each other in soft motions. Yoongi cleared his throat awkwardly, fiddling with the strap of his camera hanging around his neck. He kind of wasn’t comfortable with the idea that his words were still hanging in the air, awkward and just a tad incriminating.

 

“So,” he mumbled, glancing at Jimin to see the boy smiling at him encouragingly, “secret place?”

 

Jimin nodded his head proudly, letting his legs hang over the edge and swinging them back and forth rhythmically. “Hm, I found this like, when I was thirteen,” Jimin inhaled deeply, exhaling through slightly parted lips as he squinted at his toes, a sort of sad smile lingering on his lips, “I go here every once in awhile when I want to be alone. The real world can be a bit exhausting sometimes.”

 

“Oh,” Yoongi muttered, frowning as he gripped his camera strap between his fingers, “I should—I should go. I didn’t know, sorry.”

 

Jimin suddenly turned to him, small fingers gripping his wrist tightly and pulling him back down when he moved to stand up. “N-no! Don’t go—I mean. It’s fine. You staying here. It’s fine. I could—I could use some company. Every once in awhile.” Yoongi gave him a wary look, a look of contemplation, and Jimin pouted cutely, tugging on his arm gently. “Please stay,” he whispered softly, quietly, and just a tiny bit lonely, and who was Yoongi to refuse?

 

“…okay, I’ll stay,” Yoongi whispered, surprised at how soft his own voice sounded.

 

Jimin smiled at him, a little more subdued this time, something heavy lingering in his mind, and Yoongi could tell, but he didn’t ask. It wasn’t his place, he knew, so he let Jimin hold onto his wrist, the younger boy just breathing evenly next to him, face turned out towards the sea, the moonlight casting a soft glow on the planes of his face. His orange hair shone more naturally under the tame lighting, twinkling stars reflected in his brown eyes. Yoongi noticed for the nth time just how breathtaking Jimin’s physical appearance was, and unconsciously, his tongue darted out to run across his lower lip. Yoongi could feel Jimin’s warmth exuding from his skin, and Yoongi briefly wondered how it’d feel underneath his fingertips, if it would be as soft and smooth as it looked, if it would be as pliant and warm as it seemed to be.

 

“Aren’t you going to take pictures of me, hyung?” Jimin’s voice snapped Yoongi out of his thoughts (thankfully, as it was already nearing a territory that Yoongi wasn’t supposed to tread). He glanced at Jimin, who was cupping his own face and making exaggerated kissy faces, batting his eyelashes and winking obnoxiously. Yoongi couldn’t help but snort, and Jimin pouted his lips in mock hurt. “Why are you laughing? I’m doing my best to be beautiful here.”

 

“Taking photos of obnoxious models isn’t my forte.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, reaching out and flicking Jimin on the forehead. Jimin whined as he leaned away, rubbing the skin where Yoongi had just flicked him. “Go do your thing, kid, I’ll take your photo when I feel like it.”

 

Jimin hummed softly, nodding his head before he carefully inched away from the edge and got on his feet. Yoongi followed him with his eyes as Jimin walked all the way back, stretching his arms up and shaking his hands around. Yoongi quirked an eyebrow, unsure as to what Jimin was doing, until the younger boy turned back to face him and took off to a running start towards the cliff. Yoongi’s eyes widened, too surprised at the sudden turn of events. He watched as Jimin launched himself off the cliff again, body curved in the most impressive diving form Yoongi had ever seen.

 

“The—Park Jimin !” Yoongi called out after him, watching as Jimin turned into an orange blur in the night, whizzing through the air and smoothly diving into the water, body engulfed wholly by the dark waves of the sea. Just like two nights ago, Yoongi stared closely, heart threatening to leap out of his throat. It was a pretty high jump, and Yoongi was well aware of water tension, and how not properly breaking through it can lead to undesirable events. The waves lapped over each other once, twice, until a head of copper orange hair—a dark brown from the wetness—popped out of the waters. Jimin glanced up, and his laughter travelled all the way up to Yoongi, making Yoongi’s heart clench with how damn cute it was.

 

“Hyung!” Jimin waved one arm up, keeping himself afloat with the other. “You called me by my name!”

 

Yoongi watched with a small incredulous smile as Jimin swam around in circles, occasionally glancing up and trying to splash Yoongi with some water (these attempts ended badly with said drops of water just raining back down on Jimin’s face, making Yoongi snort into his fist and Jimin puffing his cheeks indignantly). When Jimin turned a bit to look at the moon, his hair soaking wet, cheeks glistening with water, some of them dripping down his skin, Yoongi quickly lifted up his camera, and took a shot of him. He held his breath as he continued watching the boy through his viewfinder.

 

“Oh,” Yoongi breathed out breathlessly, amazed. Jimin turned to look at him, eyes widening when he saw the camera pointed at him. He framed one eye with two fingers, smiling brightly, widely, happily, and Yoongi found himself taking another photo—for his own personal safekeeping, this time.

 

 

 

 

Yoongi glared at his phone screen, trying to ignore the piercing gaze that Seokjin was giving him. With his other hand, he blindly reached out for his sandwich, but frowned when all that his hand met was the empty table. He looked up, rolling his eyes when he saw Seokjin holding his sandwich away from him. The older man was grinning at him, and right now, all Yoongi wanted was for Namjoon to come back from wherever he had gone to so he could save him from his manic boyfriend.

 

“…Hyung,” Yoongi said flatly, palm spread out as he gestured at his sandwich, “my breakfast?”

 

“Where were you last night?” Seokjin asked airily, putting down the sandwich just out of reach of Yoongi’s hand. “I came over because I couldn’t find my socks so I thought I’d borrow from you, but you weren’t there.”

 

“I was sleeping, hyung.” Yoongi suddenly leaned forward, swiping at his sandwich and groaning when Seokjin pulled it away at the last minute. “Jin-hyung, seriously!”

 

“No, you weren’t. I asked for an extra key, told them you were my son.” Seokjin ignored his pleas altogether, narrowing his eyes at Yoongi. “Where were you? The only English we speak is for basic stuff, not enough for you to be able to dawdle around and end up sleeping somewhere else.”

 

“What the fuc—”

 

“When I got in, your bed was made. Where’d you go? Spill!”

 

Yoongi scrunched up his face in mild irritation, huffing out as he sat back against his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced away, practically glaring holes onto the floor. Somehow, he didn’t really want to tell them about Jimin. He’s not exactly sure why, but a small irrational part of him wanted to keep Jimin a secret. Still, he knew that if he didn’t give Seokjin an answer that would satisfy him, the older would go to any lengths, use any means necessary, to find out what Yoongi was hiding.

 

“I was—I was out. Doing my project,” Yoongi grumbled, huffing slightly and feeling his fringe brush along his eyelids. I need a haircut , he briefly decides. “I think I got the perfect thing for it. Beauty, I mean.”

 

Seokjin clapped his hands softly, a happy smile adorning his face. He leaned over, arms folded on the table, Yoongi’s sandwich left forgotten just shy of his left elbow. “Oh, that’s good! I’m sure you’ll do great, Yoongi.”

 

At this, Yoongi let himself smile as mental images of Jimin’s smile flashed through his mind. Of the boy jumping gracefully off the cliff, a warm peal of laughter just hanging off his pink lips. A small and barely noticeable dimple on his right cheek when he grinned too widely. Yoongi hummed under his breath, nodding his head. “Hm, yeah, I think—I think I’ll do great, hyung.”

 

 

 

 

Yoongi was lost.

 

A week into his two month vacation and he was lost in a foreign land, feeling utterly small and, well, a tad bit terrified in a sea of tall foreigners. The bare minimum of English that he knew didn’t help, making him hear words that he understood but couldn’t figure out the context of. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets, grumbling under his breath as he swiftly slipped away from the center of the street to stand underneath a store awning. It was his fault, anyway, that he was out here, alone and lost.

 

“Yoongi-hyung?”

 

Yoongi turned to the voice, his heart filling with hope at the familiar lilt and flow of it, and of the way the Korean words rolled of the boy’s tongue. Jimin squinted at him from a few feet away, hands shoved deep into the front pockets of a thin grey summer jacket. Yoongi gave him a small wave, and Jimin took that as an invitation to approach.

 

“Hyung, what are you doing out here? I thought—well, I don’t know what I thought, really, but I figured you were the type to stay cooped up in a hotel with his phone,” Jimin muttered curiously, eyes wide as he gestured to the local supermarket that Yoongi had been standing in front of, “are you going grocery shopping?”

 

Yoongi shrugged noncommittally, glancing down at his feet and wiggling his toes. “I ran out of shampoo, and the brand I use—the one for damaged hair, okay—wasn’t available at the hotel store, so I figured maybe it’d be here.”

 

“Oh, well, there’s a wider selection here of other things,” Jimin said cheerfully, walking closer and looping his arm around Yoongi’s right one. He grinned at him excitedly as he gently tugged him forward. “But how come you ran out of shampoo already? It’s only been like, a week since you checked in.”

 

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand as he let Jimin lead him. Jimin was warm, his obviously toned but still very much soft chest pressing onto Yoongi’s arm. They entered the grocery, and Yoongi shivered a little when the cold air conditioning blasted against his bare arms and legs. Jimin giggled at his reaction, which Yoongi found really cute. “I accidentally dropped my shampoo bottle last night. Bottle cracked and my shampoo leaked everywhere.”

 

Jimin blinked up at him, trying to see if he was serious. When Yoongi nodded his head once curtly, the younger boy broke out into breathless giggles. He turned his face to Yoongi’s arm, pressing it against his shirt sleeve and trying to stifle his laughter. They had stopped walking, standing awkwardly and smack dab in the middle of the grocery store, just near the meat section. Some customers were glancing at them curiously, and Yoongi tore his gaze away from them to look at Jimin, or at least, at the top of his orange hair.

 

Yoongi scowled when Jimin still couldn’t stop. He wriggled his arm lightly, and Jimin finally looked up. Yoongi’s breath hitched in his throat as his eyes fell on Jimin’s slightly flushed cheeks. He was biting his lip to stop himself from grinning too widely, and the tiniest signs of tears clung to his lashes a bit. Yoongi suddenly realized how close their faces were, just a palm-width apart, and he quickly turned away, hoping that the heat in his cheeks wasn’t what he knew it was.

 

“It wasn’t even that funny,” Yoongi grumbled mostly to himself, starting to walk again and dragging Jimin with him, whose body was still just slightly shaking from giggling. Just when Yoongi thought Jimin was done laughing over his cracked shampoo bottle, the younger boy tugged him to a gentle stop and pulled his arm away from Yoongi’s. He stepped in front of Yoongi slightly and with soft fingers, he reached up and ran his fingers gingerly along Yoongi’s fringe. Yoongi felt himself froze, mouth slightly hanging open.

 

Jimin let his hand linger in Yoongi’s slightly faded mint colored hair, a thoughtful and dreamy look crossing his eyes. “Sorry, I just—I found it cute. Besides, I think your hair will be fine with the shampoo at the hotel store. It’s—your hair is very pretty and soft. And nice. And a little long.”

 

Yoongi swallowed thickly, eyes flitting from Jimin’s bright brown eyes, pink lips, and cute nose. Jimin suddenly seemed to remember what he was doing, and Yoongi watched with slight amusement at the way the younger boy’s cheeks colored so quickly, his light honey skin flushing a very adorable deep shade of pink reaching down to his collarbones. He retracted his hands quickly, folding them behind his back and walking ahead without a single glance back at Yoongi. He came back after three steps, however, face downcast as he remembered that he needed a grocery cart. He grabbed one from the rack near Yoongi and pushed it. Yoongi couldn’t help but smile.

 

The whole grocery trip was quiet, save for Jimin quietly asking him which was better, which was more economical (Yoongi had asked what he was doing grocery for, and Jimin had grinned shyly at him. “I work at the beach bar three times a week, during the night—we’re out of some basic stuff, so I volunteered to restock,” he had explained proudly). At the cashier, Yoongi wordlessly slipped in some money to pay for his own shampoo, clicking his tongue when Jimin made to push it back. Yoongi leaned on the end of the counter, watching as Jimin quietly conversed in English with the lady manning the register. Notably, Jimin started shaking his hands and head furiously, blushing as he obviously denied something. The lady threw Yoongi a knowing smirk, and Jimin groaned, reaching over the counter to grab the lady and turn her back around.

 

“S-sorry to keep you waiting,” Jimin huffed out breathlessly as soon as he was done paying, plastic bag in his hand as he quickly pushed Yoongi out of the grocery store. He threw one last glance at the lady, who gave them both a thumbs up. Jimin’s cheeks flushed pink again, darker than the natural blush he usually sported, and he mumbled something under his breath, something about ‘nosy old ladies, why’s she so assuming ’.

 

Yoongi quirked an eyebrow up, reaching over and taking the plastic bag from Jimin despite the younger boy’s protests of, ‘ah, I can carry it ’. Yoongi placed a hand on the small of Jimin’s back, making the younger stutter on his words. Yoongi pushed him forward gently, and Jimin gulped visibly. “What’d the lady say? She seemed like she was giving you a hard time.”

 

Jimin’s eyes widened, mouth falling open in shock. He shook his head, staring back ahead as he smiled wryly. “No, no, Aunt Alika’s really nice. My mom is friends with her, thinks of me as her son, too.”

 

“Ah.” Yoongi frowned a little, remembering how flustered Jimin looked just a few moments prior. He carefully moved the plastic bag to the crook of his elbow as he slipped his hand off Jimin’s back, and shoving it into his own shorts’ pockets. “It just seemed like she was giving you a hard time.”

 

“She would never do that. She was just,” Jimin inhaled deeply, fiddling with his fingers as he looked ahead. Yoongi could see the apples of his cheeks reddening. “She was just asking. If. Uhm. You were, you know,” he waved his around mindlessly, vaguely, “my—b-boyfriend.”

 

Yoongi hummed under his breath, smiling to himself. Jimin was so obviously flustered, his hands clenching and unclenching as they continued walking back to the resort. He remembered briefly Taehyung’s words from when they had met just barely a week ago, about how Jimin wanted to get into his pants, or something of the sort. The memory made Yoongi snort quietly, making Jimin turn to him in question. With his attention on Yoongi, Jimin tripped on an uneven patch of the road, and Yoongi quickly shot a hand out, snaking his arm around Jimin’s waist and pulling him close.

 

Jimin gasped quietly, hands splaying against Yoongi’s chest as he braced himself. He blinked up at him through his lashes, all wide brown eyes, pink lips glistening with lip balm, round chubby cheeks blushing a soft pink, orange hair softly tousled by the summer air. Jimin’s hands on his chest were warm, sending something hot and tingly shooting across his skin. Yoongi steadied the younger boy up, Jimin looking a little dazed, his mouth still hanging open. Yoongi looked at him— really looked at him—and well, Yoongi kind of, honestly, really, truly finds Jimin attractive. He was a beauty, that much was a given.

 

“Do you want to get some coffee with me tomorrow?” Yoongi caught himself saying before he could think clearly, but he realized with a start that he doesn’t really regret asking.

 

Jimin blinked furiously, hands balling up into small fists as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. He stared at Yoongi, before exhaling softly, whispering out a soft and bashful, “yeah, I-I’d like that ”.

 

Yoongi nodded his head, smiling at Jimin as he started walking again. This was nothing, Yoongi thought to himself, stepping closer to Jimin and letting their hands brush together as they walked. This was nothing. Just coffee. Just something to make his summer a little bit sweeter. It was nothing.

 

 

 

 

The breakfast nook of the hotel was a cozy little place, Yoongi had come to discover since the past week. It wasn’t like a caféteria, or just some big wide place with tables and decorations. It was a quaint little haven with a Hawaiian theme, the walls a subdued brown, the floor covered with shiny glossy wooden floorboards. Each table was situated in their own little cubicles and cubbies, for privacy, a waitress had once told him. The place served not-so-good sandwiches, if Yoongi was going to be honest, but the coffee was acceptable. He and Jimin had agreed to meet in the café.

 

When Yoongi arrived, he quickly made a beeline for the cubicle in the corner, away from everyone’s attention. After three minutes of mindlessly retweeting stuff on his Twitter feed, he heard incoming footsteps. He locked his screen, slipped his phone into his pocket, and looked up to see Jimin standing by the table. Yoongi almost cooed at how small and soft Jimin looked in a big, oversized long sleeved shirt.

 

“G-good morning, Yoongi-hyung.” Despite his shyness, Jimin gave him a bright smile, cheeks bunched up and eyes crinkling at the corners. Yoongi briefly noticed a small dimple on his right cheek, and found himself tucking away this small information in his mind. “You haven’t been waiting long, have you?”

 

“Jimin, I barely just sat down, I didn’t wait.” Yoongi laughed a little, gesturing for Jimin to take a seat, make himself comfortable. “Relax, okay?” Yoongi rested his elbow on the table, propping his chin against his closed fist. “It’s just coffee. No need to look so scared, kid.”

 

“I know, I’m not scared,” Jimin started, pressing his palms on the table and smiling sheepishly at him, “it’s just—I’m nervous. I mean. You’re you, and I’m me. Does that make sense?”

 

“Nope,” Yoongi deadpanned, laughing when Jimin rolled his eyes. “Who am I, anyway? Why are you nervous?”

 

Jimin placed his joined hands on the edge of the table, fiddling with his fingers as he bashfully looked at Yoongi, gaze flitting everywhere. Yoongi cocked an eyebrow, finding amusement at the boy’s obvious nervousness. "W-well. You’re. Uhm. You’re older, for one thing.” He slowly unfurls one finger, seemingly counting down his reasons. Yoongi fought the urge to smile wide. “You’re c-cool. Like, uhm. It seems like you’re cool? Handsome, too—I mean, good-looking—uh. P-pleasing to the eyes! And, uhm. Well.”

 

“Handsome?” Yoongi asked, smirking slightly and relishing in the blush that spread all over Jimin’s cheeks, the tips of his ears, his neck. It suited him, all red and flushed and flustered. Jimin opened his mouth to say something, one of his hands lifting up to wave it dismissively, but Yoongi relented, smiling softly and shaking his head. “I’m kidding, relax. I’m flattered, thank you. I think you’re pleasing to the eyes, too,” he said, watching as Jimin fought back a smile, “come on, let’s eat.”

 

Jimin exhaled shakily as he looked away, nodding before poring over the menu on the table like he was reviewing his notes for school or something, one short finger running over the menu. Yoongi watched him, chin still propped on his palm. The younger boy glanced up at him, eyes widening to see Yoongi watching him. He licked his lips, seemingly out of habit. Yoongi found himself staring at his lips a beat too long. “Are you done, hyung? Picking, I mean.”

 

“I’m just going to have coffee,” Yoongi mumbled a little sleepily, waving a waitress over, “I’m not really the breakfast type of guy. Only Jin-hyung forces me to eat—”

 

Jimin suddenly gasped, frowning and leaning across the table slightly. He frowned at Yoongi, lips pouting, and for one brief moment, just one brief, sinful moment, Yoongi felt the urge to nibble on that plump, lower lip, maybe see if he’d gasp as cutely as he just did. Too fast, Yoongi, too fast, calm the fuck down , he thought. Jimin’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Hyung, you can’t not eat! That’s bad! I see, this is why you’re so thin, and lanky.”

 

Yoongi watched as Jimin rambled on, hands flying wildly and lips pouting as he explained the importance of a good healthy breakfast. He proceeded to order for Yoongi as soon as the waitress was by their table—just a simple breakfast set of bacons and waffles—nodding to himself proudly when the waitress finally walked away, their orders written in her little notepad. Yoongi let himself lean on the table, eyeing Jimin in amusement.

 

Jimin scrunched his nose slightly, cheeks turning pink from the attention. “Wh-what? I’m just concerned, okay.”

 

“No, no, that’s not it,” Yoongi muttered softly, waving his hand dismissively. He smiled a little, bordering on teasing as he cocked his head to the side. “I mean, for all you know, I could actually be pretty toned under this shirt. You haven’t seen my body.”

 

Jimin’s face erupted into a deep shade of red. He glanced around nervously, teeth worrying on his lower lip before he hid his face behind his hands, groaning softly. Yoongi laughed a little, finding his actions amusing. Jimin peeked between his fingers, eyebrows furrowed. “This is because of what Taehyung said, isn’t it,” he mumbled, a pout audible in his voice.

 

Yoongi shrugged, smirking in amusement when Jimin let out another embarrassed groan. Jimin leaned forward, forehead thumping loudly against the wooden table. He groaned again before peeking up, chin resting on the table as Yoongi chuckled at him. “It’s okay, Jimin, I’m flattered.”

 

“But it’s embarrassing! I mean, don’t get me wrong—you’re attractive as hell, but. You know. To actually have it out in the open is a little,” he trailed off, waving his hand in an awkward gesture, his cheeks still red from the topic of their conversation. His shoulders were slumped in a display of shame, and before Yoongi could stop himself, he reached forward and ruffled Jimin’s copper hair. Soft , he thought.

 

“Listen, it’s really okay,” he murmured, pulling back his hand and propping his elbow against the table again, giving Jimin some moment to be flustered by glancing away, “and before you get ahead of yourself, I’m not here with you because of what your friend said. I wouldn’t tolerate you and your excitable ass if I didn’t slightly like your company.”

 

After a beat of silence, Yoongi glanced at Jimin. The younger boy was staring at Yoongi like he had grown another head, and Yoongi would have teased him for it if he wasn’t so breathless and awed himself. He really is so pretty, Yoongi mumbled in his thoughts, eyes unblinking as Jimin’s cheeks flushed redder than they already were. His eyes bunched up into tiny crescents, lips parting to let out a laugh that sounded strangely like twinkling chimes. “Yoongi-hyung, you’re so cute, I can’t believe it.”

 

Yoongi chuckled, his mouth partially hidden by the hand cupping his cheek and chin. He smirked a bit, catching Jimin’s attention. “Me? Cute? Have you seen yourself, Park Jimin?”

 

Jimin ever so gently nudged Yoongi’s knee under the table with his own, a shy smile on his face as he waved his hands dismissively, denying the teasing (praises, if Yoongi was going to be honest, but Jimin didn’t need to know—not yet, maybe).

 

And as if they weren’t strangers, as if them hanging out and eating waffles together at half past seven in the morning was the most normal thing to do, they fell into an easy banter, bordering on playful flirting. It made Yoongi’s insides feel warm, and he could only guess that Jimin felt the same, if the younger boy’s constant smiles and foot nudges were anything to go by.

 

 

 

 

On any other day, Yoongi would refuse an offer to go to the beach, would much rather prefer sleeping his whole summer away than frolic on the fucking sand and getting them stuck between his toes, cursing every single granule when he would finally take a much needed shower at the end of the day. On any other day, he really, really would refuse. But—

 

“Come to the beach with me, hyung! It’s my day off, and I want to like, build sand castles and stuff, collect shells.”

 

—that day was not one of those days, Yoongi figured. Jimin stood in front of his room, an expectant expression on his face. He was wearing a large striped long sleeved shirt, the sleeves going way past his short fingers, and a pair of denim shorts hugged his thighs nicely. Yoongi nodded his head with a sigh, smiling despite himself when Jimin giggled and sent his way a smile so bright and wide, Yoongi actually felt the tiniest urge to cover his eyes. He shuffled back into his room, grabbing his cap and camera before he stepped out.

 

After their first breakfast date, the two of them had fallen into a sort of easy friendship, one that Yoongi found himself enjoying a lot, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud. Jimin was a sweet kid, shy and timid, but once he felt comfortable around Yoongi (after a week of breakfast dates and midnight talks at Jimin’s secret place), he was a ball of sunshine. He was touchy, always clinging to Yoongi’s arm or hugging him from behind when he least expected it. Yoongi wouldn’t admit it, but he kind of liked the way Jimin was so warm, his weight a welcome change.

 

As he stepped out of his room, pulling the door shut behind him, he saw Jimin leaning against the wall facing his door. The younger boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of Yoongi, and a curious smile quirked his lips up as he spotted the camera hanging around Yoongi’s neck. With an exaggerated flutter of his eyelashes, he cupped his face and cocked his head to the side, smiling shyly at Yoongi.

 

“Oh, are you going to take photos of me today?” Jimin stepped closer, still tilting his head to the side as he looked at Yoongi expectantly. His cheeks were the softest shade of pink, round and looking soft to the touch, his plump lips pink and shiny with balm. Not for the first time, Yoongi found himself wondering what they’d taste like. He shook his head clear of these thoughts, rolling his eyes at Jimin instead.

 

“No, ugly, we’re going to the beach,” Yoongi answered, smirking when Jimin huffed out an, “I know,” indignantly. He started walking, not the least bit surprised when Jimin wrapped his sleeve-covered fingers around his elbow, trailing after him and making a whining sound in the back of his throat.

 

“I’m not ugly,” he mumbled indignantly, walking faster and sidling closer to Yoongi, chest pressing against Yoongi’s arm, “you said so yourself.”

 

“Me? When did I?”

 

“You said I fit your theme, for your work back in Korea.”

 

“Huh, funny what you end up saying when it’s the middle of the night,” Yoongi teased, wincing and ducking away when Jimin swatted him on the arm.

 

He’s not exactly sure how he let himself be open like this to Jimin, but it was something he had no control over, really. There was just something about Jimin that made Yoongi drop his guard, something about the boy’s gentle touches and contagious smiles that made him put down his walls. Maybe it also had something to do with his attraction towards Jimin, but needless to say, in just a week of cheap breakfast meals and hushed midnight conversations, Jimin had successfully wormed his way one step closer to Yoongi’s heart.

 

As soon as they stepped out onto the beach, Jimin let go of his arm, carelessly kicking off his rubber slippers and not minding where they even landed before running out towards the water. It was nearing sunset, the sky already painted in pretty hues of orange and pink and blue, white clouds streaking it here and there. There weren’t many people, only two or three other guests chilling seeing as the night was fast approaching, but Jimin—he loved the beach. Yoongi could tell as much after always seeing him in the afternoons they weren’t together, always near the waves either swimming, just getting his feet wet, or trying to collect seashells while his tall friend—Taehyung?—recounted whatever story he had to tell, hands flying and gesturing wildly. (And it’s not like Yoongi was stalking the kid when they weren’t together—they just always happened to be in the same area, damn it).

 

Yoongi watched as Jimin neared the calm waves, his soft laughter travelling back to Yoongi. The way his voice just curled and wrapped around Yoongi always had his heart feeling warm, a gentle and prickly kind of warmth that flooded outwards all the way to his fingertips and toes. Without a second thought, Yoongi pulled off his camera from around his neck. He turned it on, letting his feet guide him closer to where Jimin was. He still didn’t have any idea on what he should do for the zine, his deadline was fast approaching, but being in Jimin’s company in an intimate beach resort was lulling him into a bubble of ease, not that he was complaining, really.

 

As he pulled his camera against his eye, he turned it towards Jimin who was crouching in the water just a few feet away from the shoreline. His soft orange hair looked even softer under the setting sun, and he looked even smaller and more fragile as he hunched into himself, the water lapping up gently against his back, his legs. He had both his hands under the water, seemingly looking for something, and when he seemed to find it, Yoongi found himself pressing on the shutter before he could think about it.

 

“Hyung!” Jimin looked up from the water, cheeks bunched up and eyes shut tight from the force of his smile. He was laughing breathlessly, his right hand wet from the water, pushing back his hair away from his face. Yoongi kept on taking pictures, unable to say anything. “Hyung, look! I found a starfish—I don’t want to take it out ‘cause it might die, but it’s so cute! Come look!”

 

The sun started to set then, soft rays bidding everything it touched a silent goodbye. The sky started dimming, orange and pink and blue turning to purple and cerulean, but even as everything faded into that quiet beauty of the night that Yoongi is fairly familiar with, Jimin stayed bright, was more beautiful than anything around him, remaining like a shining beacon of light through Yoongi’s viewfinder. He laughed again, turning back to the starfish he found, and Yoongi’s heart clenched when Jimin quietly said goodbye to the little thing.

 

Jimin was breathtakingly attractive, and Yoongi had fallen victim to it.

 

“Oh,” Jimin breathed out, surprise evident in his voice when he finally turned to Yoongi. He stood up, his body from the waist down drenched in seawater. A shy smile bloomed on his face, the natural flush of his cheeks turning pinker as he looked at Yoongi. “Were you taking my picture, Yoongi-hyung?”

 

Yoongi’s breath left him in a subtle whoosh. He felt his face warming up, and he quickly pulled down his camera, shutting it off and hanging it back around his neck as Jimin jogged back to him. He glanced away as he started walking, eager to do something else so he wouldn’t think about Jimin—his cheeks, his lips, his smile, his pretty honey skin, his gentle voice—he shook his head, exhaling deeply when Jimin caught up to him, hands damp as they wrapped around Yoongi’s arm gently.

 

“May I see the picture?” He asked softly, a shy smile on his face as Yoongi briefly glanced at him. Yoongi grunted, shaking his head as he shoved his hands inside the pockets of his shorts. He didn’t quite trust himself at the moment. Jimin let out a disappointed “ ah ”, before he tugged on Yoongi’s arm. “Why not?”

 

“I-I wasn’t taking your picture, why would I,” Yoongi huffed, walking faster only to have Jimin wrap his arms around Yoongi’s instead, cheek pressing on his shoulder.

 

“Because, silly hyung, you said you would,” Jimin said, giggling to himself and tilting his head forward to try and catch Yoongi’s gaze, “remember? You said so yourself.”

 

“No, I didn’t.”

 

“You’re not a very convincing liar, Min Yoongi-ssi.” Jimin clicked his tongue, pulling one hand away briefly to wag his finger playfully before erupting into a giggling fit that just pulled at Yoongi’s heartstrings. When Jimin calmed down enough, he sighed happily, snuggling closer to Yoongi and just walking along the beach with him. “Okay, to humor my favorite hyung, if you didn’t take a picture of me, what did you take photos of? Oh, was it the sunset? It was really beautiful, wasn’t it? Bet you don’t have that in Korea.”

 

Yoongi swallowed thickly, looking down at their feet as they walked, Jimin’s toes digging into the sand, his own slipper clad feet dragging after him. His heart felt full from Jimin’s warmth, Jimin’s words, Jimin’s smiles—he took a deep breath, and nodded, glancing at Jimin quickly.

 

“Yeah, it was really beautiful.” Korea doesn’t have anything like it.

 

 

 

 

The realization, Yoongi noticed, wasn’t really that shocking, or life changing for that matter. Even his friends wouldn't be surprised if Yoongi came up to them then and there and declared, “I like this boy, and he’s really fucking cute,”. He didn’t fall easily, per se, but he had a type, and Yoongi was the type of man who didn’t beat around the bush—if he liked something, he’d say that he liked it.

 

And he liked Jimin. End of story.

 

But that didn’t really make him feel any less disgusting as he pressed his forehead against the bathroom wall, the water from the shower head running down his bare body. He had one hand propped up against the wall, and the other quickly pumping his hard leaking cock at a furious pace. It wasn’t the best feeling, just spurts of hot pleasure shooting up his veins, his body, but he needed to get off.

 

“Sh-shit,” he grunted out, feeling the familiar ball of heat coiling in the pit of his stomach, an impending sense of release looming close. He fisted his hand harder around his length, all the way from the bottom to the head, thumb digging under and around the slit. His mind decided to wander, giving him images of Jimin—shit, Jimin .

 

Different scenarios flashed in his mind’s eye—Jimin sprawled underneath him, his lips kiss-swollen, the natural flush of his cheeks amplified by exertion, by pleasure, by Yoongi’s hard cock thrusting into his tight, wet heat. Strangled cries of Yoongi’s name leaving his lips, his pretty pink hole clenching tightly around Yoongi’s throbbing cock. His lips—oh, his red sinful lips wrapped around Yoongi’s length, barely reaching all the way down, upper lip catching on the head, moans vibrating all along Yoongi’s erection, and—

 

“H-hyung, come on my face.” Suddenly, Jimin was on his knees right in front of Yoongi, small hands gripping Yoongi’s thighs, fingers going white from how tightly he held on. His face was flushed, orange hair matted to his forehead, to his temples. His eyes fluttered close as he let his lips fall open, and Yoongi was fucking confused because why was Jimin there? Wasn’t he just peacefully taking a shower and jacking off to the unbidden images of a friend?

 

Before Yoongi could stop himself, the heat in the pit of his belly unfurled, sending shudders through his body as his orgasm hit him full force. He tried to shut his eyes tight, tried to not look at Jimin, but the image of his pretty face streaked with ropes of Yoongi’s cum had Yoongi feeling all sorts of proud. He felt dirty, but at the same time, Jimin looked fucking debauched, breathtaking, and as if the mere sensation of having Yoongi’s cum on his face and lips and tongue was enough to send him into bliss.

 

As if it wasn’t enough, Jimin opened his eyes shyly. He looked up at Yoongi from under his eyelashes, a mischievous twinkle in his brown eyes, and without breaking eye contact, he poked his tongue out of his lips. Slowly and deliberately, he licked away the cum dripping from his lips, his small hands running up and down Yoongi’s thigh soothingly. Yoongi watched with bated breath as Jimin swallowed thickly, his adam's apple bobbing up and down sinfully. Jimin smiled then, that beautiful bright smile, before he opened his mouth.

 

The sound of an alarm clock blared softly from Jimin’s open mouth, and Yoongi frowned.

 

“Wha—”

 

Yoongi jumped up from the bed, hair disheveled and eyes wide as he looked around in his dark hotel room. Sitting on the bedside table innocently was his phone, one of his alarms going off. Yoongi groaned, running a hand through his hair as he reached over and pressed on the snooze button angrily.

 

When all was quiet and still, he buried his face in his hands, groaning once more as his dream finally caught onto his sleep-muddled senses. His underwear felt sticky, and if he didn’t feel embarrassed enough as it is, the image of dream-Jimin swallowing his cum and smiling up at Yoongi innocently had his cock twitching in his boxer shorts again. With a defeated sigh, Yoongi slid off the bed and waddled to the bathroom like a prepubescent teen.

 

It was going to be a long night.

 

 

 

 

“Rough night?”

 

Yoongi looked up to see Seokjin and Namjoon slide into his café booth with mugs of coffees in their hands, their faces a little tanned, but happy and giddy nonetheless. Yoongi managed a small smile, tipping up his own mug of black coffee in greeting.

 

“You could say that, but anyway, I haven’t seen you guys in like, what, a week?” He sipped from his mug carefully, relishing in the bitter burn of the coffee running down his throat. He needed that, after what he did all night. “What’ve you two been up to?”

 

“There was this like, island tour package thing,” Seokjin started, flipping open a menu on the table and poring over the food items mindlessly. His gaze flickered up to Yoongi briefly, a smile on his face. “I thought we should’ve dragged you, but Namjoon told me you wouldn’t want to, anyway.”

 

“Yeah, no, I’m not all about that tour,” Yoongi mumbled, nodding at Namjoon when the other peeked up from his phone to shoot him a grin. Yoongi turned back to Seokjin, nodding his head at both of them. “I can see you’re both tanned as fuck, though. I guess you had fun?”

 

Seokjin smiled brightly at this, giggling a little and nodding. “Yeah, we did. It was nice. We might go on one again either later or tomorrow. A city tour this time. It’s really nice, Yoongi, don’t you want to come along?”

 

Yoongi glanced out of the café window at Seokjin’s question.

 

Jimin hadn’t dropped by his hotel room that morning, and Yoongi was more than happy that he didn’t because frankly, he wasn’t sure what his face would do at the sight of the boy, or if his blood would betray him and just decide to rush all the way down south. Either way, he was glad that Jimin had other things to do that morning (he still kind of missed him already, though—Yoongi swears that he isn’t clingy).

 

Through the window overlooking the beach, however, Yoongi could see a boy in red shorts and loose white tank. His orange mop of hair glistened under the sun, painting him in a gorgeous and ethereal light. Jimin was laughing, face pinched in joy as a little girl chased after him (probably for the blue and white beach ball in his hands that he was obviously keeping from the girl). Yoongi felt himself smile despite his inner turmoil, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile. A flick on the forehead was what pulled him back to reality, to the booth in the hotel café where Seokjin and Namjoon were both giving him weird knowing looks.

 

“Yoongi,” Seokjin started, but Yoongi cut him off, downing his coffee and regretting it as soon as the hot liquid burned his tongue.

 

“No,” he choked out, catching Seokjin’s confused frown, “I-I mean, no, I don’t, uhm, want to come along. I’m tired. Yeah.”

 

Namjoon opened his mouth to say something, but Seokjin nudged him with his elbow. He nodded his head in understanding, glancing out the window. Yoongi felt his cheeks heat up, but he didn’t say anything, just kept on running his thumbs all over the warm surface of his mug.

 

“Okay, Yoongi,” Seokjin said quietly, a tone of resignation in his voice. Yoongi looked up at him, not used to Seokjin’s behavior because normally, the older would be pestering him for details already. When their eyes locked, Seokjin gave him a small smile. “Don’t do anything stupid, we won’t be here to save your ass, alright?”

 

Yoongi hummed once, glancing back out the window. Jimin was running away now, the little girl earlier now holding the beach ball and brandishing it threateningly at Jimin. They were both laughing, playing so carelessly and freely under the sun. Yoongi noticed Taehyung walk into the view, waving his hand to catch Jimin’s attention. Jimin looked up, chest heaving from his playtime with the girl, and he nodded after a while before gesturing sadly at his little friend. They share sad little hand waves, and Yoongi watched as Jimin jogged after Taehyung, and finally, Yoongi couldn’t see him.

 

“I won’t,” Yoongi finally mumbled back, glancing back at Seokjin and smiling a little. Seokjin quirked an eyebrow but remained quiet, sipping his coffee quietly.

 

 

 

 

Yoongi was skulking around the hotel, still not too sleepy and missing Jimin (damn, he probably was clingy), when something solid and warm suddenly launched onto his back, making him stumble forward in his steps. He braced himself against the wall with one hand, his other one instinctively going around the pair of arms that wrapped around his waist. He heard him before he saw him, sending his heart flipping over and butterflies to erupt in his stomach.

 

“Hi, Yoongi-hyung, we didn’t see each other yesterday, I missed you!” Jimin giggled against his back, and Yoongi could feel his warm breath spreading over his skin through the fabric of his tee shirt, just between his shoulder blades.

 

Yoongi grunted, firmly shaking Jimin off. Jimin looked at him funnily, eyes curious and lips parted in surprise as Yoongi stepped away from him. Yoongi had to force himself to tear his gaze away from how pink and soft Jimin’s lips looked. “Hey, Jimin.”

 

“...are you okay?”

 

Yoongi frowned a bit, slipping his hand into the pocket of his jeans and using his other hand to rub at the back of his neck. It was getting late, and Yoongi still wasn’t prepared to face Jimin—the literal boy of his (wet) dreams. He hadn’t even had the time to give himself a pep talk (somewhere along the lines of “don’t fucking pop a damn boner in front of Jimin, you like him, but he’s your fucking friend, you fucking twat ”). He shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

Jimin leaned a bit closer, squinting at him. His brows were furrowed into a worried frown, lips pressed together in thought. He smacked them once as he leaned back, and Yoongi fought back the urge to suck in a deep breath. “I’m probably not in the place to say this, I mean, we’ve only known each other for, what, a week or so? But you just—hyung, you look sad.”

 

“I’m not—”

 

“Come with me to my secret place,” Jimin cut him off softly, upper teeth biting down on his lower lip, and fuck, did he just find a crooked tooth cute ? Why the fuck did it look so cute? Yoongi was so far gone, he was aware of it. Jimin reached forward, wrapping warm fingers around Yoongi’s wrist and tugging gently. “Please? I really missed hanging out with you, and I just—you won’t be here much longer, you’re going back to Korea so I just want to spend as much time with you as I can. Please?”

 

And the look on Jimin’s face was nothing if not heartbroken. There was something else behind his eyes, something Yoongi didn’t dare figure out nor ask about. He doesn’t know what it is, but if one of the reasons Jimin was sad was at the fact that Yoongi was going to leave, he wouldn’t admit out loud that it made him fall just a little bit deeper, and that it made his resolve to just sleep the day away crumble as easily as a biscuit.

 

“...fine, kid,” Yoongi said, letting himself be pulled by Jimin towards the hotel doors, “just for tonight.”

 

“I’m not kid ,” Jimin reminded him, voice light and happy. He looked back over his shoulder, smiling at Yoongi with one of his wide, toothy smiles. “And okay, grumpy pants, just for tonight.”

 

As they walked down the beach, Jimin shot off, giddy and vibrating with happiness as he told Yoongi all about the things he did when they weren’t together. Yoongi just nodded, trying so hard to keep up and actually listen, but it was a little hard to do when Jimin suddenly looked especially beautiful that night. Copper orange hair a windswept mess atop his pretty face, his petite yet toned figure hidden under a loose thin sweater, and his fingers sliding down into Yoongi’s hand, fingertips brushing against his palm, the boy himself too engrossed with his own story to know what he was doing.

 

Yoongi gripped his hand gently, then, and Jimin visibly stiffened. Yoongi felt him about to move his hand away, his story about his mom almost going off on a rude delivery boy stuttering to a halt, when Yoongi walked ahead, his hand gripping Jimin’s firmly and holding it in place. It was considerably smaller, especially within his own bigger hand. He heard Jimin take in a sharp intake of breath.

 

“Hyung—”

 

“And? What happened next? To the delivery boy?” He glanced back at Jimin, half expecting a horrified expression on his face because yes, sure, Jimin may have expressed some kind of attraction to him before, but that was before they even talked properly. He wasn’t so sure that holding his hand out of the blue would result positively, but Jimin had only a look of surprise, mouth hanging open and eyes wide as Yoongi held his hand.

 

He blinked, before glancing away, the tips of his ears turning red. He jogged to catch up with Yoongi, their shoulders brushing. “...u-uh. And then, he, uh—”

 

Yoongi hummed, listening as Jimin nervously but eventually got back into the flow of his story. His free hand gestured around wildly, and without thinking, Yoongi carefully intertwined their fingers. He was pretty sure any hand would fit perfectly with any other hand, but there was something about Jimin’s small one that just made their joined hands seem all the more perfect, more unique. His hand was delicate, soft yet firm, warm, and the way it got engulfed in Yoongi’s own made the butterflies in his stomach riot.

 

Yoongi was going to leave eventually. He was just there for a vacation. But Yoongi was the type of man who, when he liked something, would do something about it. It might be a selfish thing to do, but it’s what he was.

 

Jimin tripped on his words when he felt Yoongi lock their fingers together, Yoongi’s thumb brushing against his skin, but he continued with his story, and Yoongi felt the boy tighten the hold on their hands. Yoongi’s attention was focused solely on the feeling of Jimin’s palm against his own, on his voice rattling off one story after another, on the warmth that exuded from Jimin’s whole being, that he didn’t see the person running up to them.

 

“Hey, excuse m—ohmygod .”

 

Jimin stopped in his tracks, and Yoongi looked ahead to see Taehyung sporting a bewildered expression, his lips slowly curling up into a smile when his inquisitive wide-eyed gaze fell on the hand interlocked between their bodies. Yoongi felt Jimin move away, and with a heavy heart, he let go.

 

“T-Taehyung, what are you doing here?” Jimin asked, voice a little higher than usual, his hands gripping the hem of his sweater tightly. Yoongi stayed quiet, gaze flitting from Jimin’s face and then down to his own feet. They weren’t doing anything indecent for fuck’s sake, but Yoongi still felt like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar (or in Jimin’s, but whatever).

 

“Sorry, I thought you were guests, and I was going to inform you of the beach curfew,” he explained airily, shifting his weight from one foot to another as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He smirked at Jimin, eyeing Yoongi with the same spark of mischievousness that he eyed Jimin with. “ Yoongi-hyung is a guest, but he’s with you, so I guess he’s off the hook.”

 

“Y-yeah, he’s with me—d-do you need anything else?” Jimin stomped his foot once, his voice tapering off into a higher note and something urgent seeping into his tone. Yoongi bit his lip, feeling extremely awkward.

 

“Hmmm, no, not really, just. Uhm. Like, are you guys finally banging? Or like, boyfriends?”

 

“Tae!” Jimin shot forward, pushing Taehyung away. The taller boy’s laughter rang through the air, a series of “ow, ow, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, fuck, stop stepping on my foot—ow! ”, following in his wake. Yoongi snorted under his breath, amused at the two’s antics. Barely a minute passed and Jimin was already running back to him, cheeks flushed and hair wilder than ever. He glanced at Yoongi, puffing out short breaths as he tried to calm himself. When Yoongi smiled at him, Jimin groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. “I’m so sorry about him, he’s an asshole.”

 

“It’s okay, Jiminnie,” Yoongi reached out, the nickname slipping out naturally. He took Jimin’s hand in his again, pulling him gently toward the general direction of Jimin’s secret place. “Really, no harm was done.”

 

Jimin pouted as he huffed indignantly, letting Yoongi pull him through the underbrush leading to the little cliff. “But he said those things, and—”

 

“I didn’t find them offensive, don’t worry,” Yoongi brushed away the branches, wincing when he felt something brush along his leg, “but, uh, did you?”

 

“Wha—n-no! Of course not! Why would being your boyfriend be offensive—I-I mean, uhm,” Jimin trailed off, looking down at their feet instead. Yoongi could see him blushing harder than ever, and it was honestly so cute.

 

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I feel the same way.” Yoongi pulled them through to the clearing, his hand tightening around Jimin’s. He lead them to the edge, right at the spot where they first sat together. He let go of Jimin gently as he sat down, legs dangling over the edge. Jimin took a moment to stand behind Yoongi, and Yoongi glanced back at him, quirking an eyebrow at him curiously. “What are you doing standing over there? Are you going to sit down, or are you going to swim again?”

 

Jimin licked his lips, twisting his hands in front of him as he blinked furiously, his mind obviously on overdrive. “Do you—do you mean it?” His voice was soft, quiet and unsure. “About, uhm. How being my boyfriend isn’t offensive, or like, a bad thing…”

 

Yoongi gawked at him, unable to believe his own ears. It was evident in Jimin’s voice that he was insecure about himself, and it hurt Yoongi a little to find out that such a gorgeous, kind boy was doubting himself. He didn’t know what Jimin went through to get such thoughts, but what mattered to him at the moment was the present.

 

He reached a hand up, lacing their fingers together again, before Jimin eventually sat down next to him, infinitely closer than how they were the first time they watched the moon that night on the same cliff. He kept a firm yet gentle grip on Jimin’s hand, placing it over his thigh. “I mean it.”

 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Jimin nod his head slowly, before inhaling deeply. A soft hum followed, before Jimin rested his head on Yoongi’s shoulder, his small fingers pressing down around Yoongi’s, the pressure from his soft fingertips setting something warm and comforting ablaze in Yoongi’s insides.

 

“Thank you.”

 

(And when Jimin fell asleep, his head sliding down a little until Yoongi had to shift to the side so that the boy would have his face pressed against Yoongi’s chest, Yoongi didn’t move to wake him up. With his free hand, he took off the camera hanging off his neck, struggling a bit to take a photo of Jimin. It was a hard shot, but Yoongi liked it nonetheless.

 

He didn’t wake Jimin up until the boy himself stirred awake, an embarrassed flush painting his cheeks a pretty pink. Yoongi only smiled at him, ruffling his orange hair in response before they set back to the hotel, hands still intertwined).

 

 

 

 

Yoongi wasn’t exactly sure what they were, but the shy smiles that Jimin always threw his way from across the lobby, or across the beach, or even all the way down from the sea with Yoongi sitting at the cliff, always made his heart race faster. When they hung out, Jimin was always closer, hands always touching Yoongi, eyes always on him, and smiles always sent his way, brighter and prettier than his usual smiles. Yoongi loved it, loved all of it, but—

 

“Yoongi, please stop eyefucking the hotel owner’s son,” Seokjin chided over breakfast, throwing Yoongi’s way a piece of burnt crust.

 

“I’m not,” Yoongi mumbled, tearing his gaze away from Jimin who was listening to something that Taehyung was whispering, lips already pulled into a smile. Yoongi focused back on his waffles, the floppy sad thing somehow looking sadder now that Jimin wasn’t the one who ordered it. He glanced up at Seokjin, the other fiddling with his phone and giggling at Namjoon’s snaps (who had gone to the local grocery store just to see the things they sold). “Jin-hyung.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I have a question. It’s purely hypothetical, alright?” Yoongi laid his palms flat on the table, chest puffing out as he took a deep breath. Seokjin nodded his head mindlessly, humming at Yoongi for him to continue. “Okay, so. Hypothetically speaking.”

 

“Go on, Yoongi, I’m listening,” Seokjin said, finally locking his phone and looking up at Yoongi.

 

“U-uh. Hypothetically speaking, uh. If, say. A friend were to date someone they met from another place—”

 

Seokjin gasped, shoulders hunching as he pressed a hand to his mouth, eyes widening as he stared at Yoongi. Yoongi was frozen, mouth still agape as Seokjin reveled in his own shock. “Min Yoongi .”

 

“Wh-what?”

 

“You did not ask that sweet looking boy to be your boyfriend, did you?!” Seokjin was half-shouting, half-whispering, and Yoongi mildly felt the urge to stuff his waffle down Seokjin’s mouth. He didn’t. “Yoongi, how could you?! You’d break his poor sweet heart. Look at him !”

 

Yoongi felt his face heat up, the flush going all the way down to his neck. He shook his head, reaching out and pulling Seokjin down because the fucker had actually gotten up into a half-standing position to gawk openly at Jimin at the other side of the café. “Hyung—fuck, sit down! A-and I didn’t ask him, Christ.”

 

Seokjin plopped down on his seat, a disbelieving cock of his eyebrow on his face. “You didn’t?”

 

“...I may have implied it, but—”

 

“Yoongi, you are aware that we’re not staying here for good, right?” Seokjin tapped his fingers on the table, gazing at Yoongi pointedly. Yoongi nodded his head in defeat, slumping in his chair and groaning, his hands running down his face. Seokjin clicked his tongue softly. “Oh, Yoongi. Is it—is it serious? I mean, if you’re just like fuck buddies or something, that’d be easier to break off, but you said date …”

 

Yoongi bit his lip, digging his chin lower so he could hide half his face beneath his hoodie. He heard Jimin laugh then, and his heart did an involuntary somersault. He was screwed. He looked at Seokjin, and at one glance, Seokjin already knew what was in his head. “Oh, man, I’m sorry.”

 

“Yeah,” Yoongi breathed out, fiddling with his fingers as Seokjin looked at him sadly, “I’m sorry, too.”

 

 

 

 

“Hyung, aren’t you going to ever take my photos?”

 

They were sitting by the cliff then, Yoongi fiddling with his camera while Jimin played with the fluffy towel hanging around his neck. He pulled it over his head, tilting his head to look at Yoongi. When Yoongi didn’t budge, he used his foot to nudge Yoongi’s leg, eliciting an annoyed hiss from him. Jimin laughed, leaning against him.

 

“Sorry,” he whispered, not even meaning it entirely, a playful and toothy grin adorning his face. Yoongi glanced at him, a deadpan look on his face that set off another series of giggles from Jimin. “You look so funny, hyung.”

 

“Glad my discomfort entertains you, Jiminnie,” he mumbled, looking back at his camera again and fiddling with the settings, “and to answer your question, no, I’m not going to take your photos. Waste of space on my memory card.”

 

“Rude!” Jimin swatted his arm, a laugh bubbling up from his lips.

 

Jimin calmed down at that moment, a content hum buzzing from his lips. He kept on poking Yoongi’s leg with his toes, before he got up and moved back. Yoongi already knew by then that he was preparing to dive. Jimin had mentioned once that Ferris wheels scared him, but something about diving into the water calmed him. He enjoyed it, was one of the things he loved doing, and Yoongi wouldn’t ever admit it to his face anytime soon, but seeing Jimin dive and look so free made him feel lighter than he could ever remember feeling.

 

Yoongi watched as Jimin took a running start, his form so breathtaking as he jumped off, arcing in the air and plunging into the water headfirst, hands slicing the water tension. Yoongi waited until Jimin’s head popped out of the water (as he had the tendency to swim around for too long, enough to always make Yoongi worry and make his thoughts go back to sharks and Bermuda triangles—to which Jimin would just laugh and say, “ no, hyung, no sharks or triangles ”). Jimin was smiling up at him, looking like a young and beautiful god of the ocean.

 

“Hyung! Yoongi-hyung!” He called out, and Yoongi rolled his eyes, a tired smile on his face. He already knew where this was going. “Hyung, swim with me!”

 

“For the I’ve-lost-count-already -th time, no, Jimin, I’m not going to swim. Or dive.” He turned on his camera, turning the lens towards Jimin and just snapping randomly. He laughed softly. “You look like an ugly fish out of water.”

 

“Whatever, you’re just scared of diving,” Jimin teased, arms paddling around slowly, a smirk on his face as Yoongi frowned.

 

“I’m not scared,” he muttered, glaring at Jimin as he turned off his camera and placed it some ways away from the edge of the cliff, “I’m literally wearing jeans right now, kid, I’m not going to swim in these.”

 

“You were wearing beach shorts the other night,” Jimin pointed out cheekily, swimming back a bit and away from his initial diving spot, “admit it, hyung, you’re just scared. My cute, scaredy cat hyung.”

 

Yoongi huffed. He really wasn’t—okay, so maybe he was. Just a little. He can swim, hell he’d done dives before (mainly because he had been drunk and Namjoon had been threatening to take ₩2,000 from him—in hindsight, it hadn’t been a fair deal), but to dive from an actual fucking cliff while sober was not on Yoongi’s list of things to do during his summer break. Still, call him petty but being called scared made him feel just a little miffed, because fuck he wasn’t that scared—at least, not enough to consider him a scaredy cat.

 

So, against his own better judgment, he stood up. Jimin cheered from below, whooping a loud, “that’s my hyung! ”, and Yoongi wouldn’t admit that it spurred him on a bit. He didn’t bother taking off his jeans, remembering that he’d worn the pink polka dotted one that Seokjin had given him—he wasn’t ready to give Jimin more blackmail fodder. He stepped back, imitated Jimin’s process, and took off.

 

It was exhilarating, jumping off a natural cliff with nothing but the dark waters below to cushion his fall. He felt his feet leave the rocky surface of the cliff, felt the cold evening breeze brush against whatever bare skin was visible. As he broke into the water, it felt a little off to feel his clothes getting soaked through, the warm water hitting his cold skin and jolting his nerves awake. Briefly, he could kind of understand why Jimin loved diving. It gave him a sense of control, a touch of freedom, a lungful of recklessness—some of the things he didn’t get much in the city, where everything was monotonous and loud and set in stone. It was amazing, if Yoongi was going to be honest.

 

He pulled up out of the water, running his hands up his face and through his hair. He tried to catch his breath as he blinked away the water from his eyes, but found his breath catching in his throat as his gaze landed on Jimin.

 

He was laughing happily, breathlessly, eyes shut tight as he floated some ways away from Yoongi. The moonlight illuminated his wet face, eyelashes damp and skin glistening under the stars. He gradually stopped laughing, the apples of his cheeks a soft pink as he swam closer to Yoongi. There was a sheepish grin on his face as he reached out and gently flicked back a lock of wet hair away from Yoongi’s face.

 

“I can’t believe you actually jumped,” he whispered, laughter still audible in his voice, “sorry about your jeans, I didn’t think you would take me seriously. But—wasn’t it amazing?”

 

Yoongi only blinked, his hands and feet paddling underneath the water lazily to keep himself afloat. Jimin smiled at him, a curious twinkle in his eyes as Yoongi remained mute. He frowned then, worry shadowing his face.

 

“I-I’m sorry, are you mad? I really didn’t mean what I said—”

 

Yoongi doesn’t know what came over him. Maybe it was the moon. Maybe it was the stars. Or the dive, itself. Did it mess with his brain? He wasn’t entirely sure. All he knew was that his hands were gently pulling Jimin in close by the waist, the water moving languidly around them. The night was quiet, only the leaves rustling could be heard. Jimin’s eyes were open wide, his hands resting on Yoongi’s shoulder automatically once he got pulled in.

 

“Hyung—”

 

And, Yoongi thought, Jimin’s lips tasted as nice as he imagined them to be.

 

Their lips met, just a simple press—tentative, cautious, a question. Yoongi dug his fingers gently against the curve of Jimin’s hips, the boy’s skin warm and soft underneath his touch. When Yoongi tilted his head a bit, it was Jimin who surged in, parting his mouth shyly and nibbling on Yoongi’s lower lip. A soft groan escaped Yoongi, the sensation better than he ever thought it would be, and Jimin sighed softly in response. Jimin pulled him closer, fingers fisting Yoongi’s wet shirt. Yoongi curled one arm around Jimin’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest and feeling the water between their bodies, while his other hand moved up to cup Jimin’s jaw, thumb running across his jawline.

 

Yoongi licked at the seam of Jimin’s lips, and a high moan closely resembling a whine escaped the boy. Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh, pecking Jimin’s lips one more time before pulling away. Jimin’s cheeks were flushed, eyes dazed and glazed over as he blindly chased Yoongi’s lips for more, but Yoongi pushed him back a bit, running his thumb over the soft and sweet swell of Jimin’s lips.

 

“First?” He asked quietly, smiling wider when Jimin blushed harder, looking away and biting his lip. Yoongi leaned forward, planting a kiss on the corner of Jimin’s lips and making the boy squeak softly in surprise. “I think it’s cute that it’s your first.”

 

“M-maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” Jimin whispered, fingers tightening on Yoongi’s shirt. He looked down resolutely, eyes focused on the collar of Yoongi’s shirt. “Yoongi-hyung,” he started, voice incredibly soft and shy, his whole face until his ears and down to his chest colored a deep pink, and Yoongi thought it adorable that even in the dead of night, his blush was so visible, “what—what does this mean?”

 

Yoongi looked at him carefully, remembering Seokjin’s words from the previous morning. Guilt gripped his heart, his lungs constricting as he saw the hopeful yet sad look in Jimin’s eyes. He sighed, rubbing gentle circles on Jimin’s bare hip. “I—I’m not staying.”

 

Jimin shook his head, a tired laugh escaping his lips. “I know, but what does that mean? The k-kiss?”

 

Yoongi tipped his head forward, pressing their foreheads together, his arm tightening around Jimin. “It means that I really wanted to kiss you, kid.”

 

At this, Jimin let out a shy smile, but there was still that sadness in there. He smoothed his hands over the places where he’d fisted Yoongi’s shirt, his palms and fingers running all across Yoongi’s broad chest and shoulders. “I’m not kid ,” he whispered, “I’m Park Jimin, and I’d really like to kiss you again, Min Yoongi.”

 

“Second?” Yoongi teased, a grin on his face as Jimin rolled his eyes, his cheeks flushing a deeper pink.

 

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.” Jimin smiled, sticking his tongue out teasingly as he slowly slid his hands up to rest on the back of Yoongi’s neck.

 

Yoongi laughed softly, before leaning in and closing the distance between them. Jimin’s lips still tasted as nice as the first time, if not better, and Yoongi doesn’t want to forget the taste. Not then, not now, not ever (but he had to—eventually, and they both knew this).

 

 

 

 

The next time Yoongi saw Seokjin, he was tanner than ever, and Yoongi doesn’t know if it looked good on him or not, but the happy glow with which his older friend radiated with was enough to make him look as gorgeous as ever. Yoongi was already done with his cup of coffee, was already in the middle of standing up from his seat so he could loiter around the resort with his camera (and, well, “bump” into Jimin accidentally), before Seokjin and Namjoon were sauntering into his direction. Yoongi didn’t sit down, but he did nod at the couple as he gave them a small smile.

 

Seokjin raised an eyebrow at him, a curious smile quirking one corner of his lips up. “Well, someone’s happy.”

 

Yoongi cocked his head in response. “You are, yeah, I can see that.”

 

“No, asshole,” Seokjin said, laughing a little as he looked back to wave Namjoon closer before turning back to Yoongi with a knowing smile, “I meant you, loverboy. You look happy.”

 

“I do?”

 

Seokjin grinned then, as if it was the answer he was hoping to extract from Yoongi. “So you are?” Yoongi sighed loudly, exaggerating his tired slouch as he rolled his eyes at Seokjin. Seokjin laughed, occupying Yoongi’s previous table. As he crossed his hands on the table, he looked at Yoongi meaningfully, pausing for a few beats before shrugging. “Well, if you are, you are. I just hope this doesn’t end badly.”

 

Yoongi hummed, already moving away and heading out of the café as he pushed Seokjin’s words out of his mind. He knew, of course that there was only one way this little thing was going to end. He hoped it wouldn’t be so, but he’s not sure now.

 

He haldn’t seen Jimin anywhere that morning, and it wasn’t like the boy had a permanent job at the resort—he was the owner’s son, Yoongi had discovered that it was only Jimin who had decided to do whatever he could get his cute little hands on, the boy too jumpy and eager to be busy.

 

Yoongi let himself loiter around the place, camera in hand and snapping photos randomly. There weren’t many people despite it being summer, though Yoongi understood why seeing as the whole place was a sort of intimate, quiet resort. He was pretty sure they didn’t even advertise—just word of mouth, like how Seokjin found out about the place.

 

He slipped into the lobby, seeing the little girl Jimin had been playing with some days ago sitting comfortably on one of the chaise lounge chairs in the area. Crouching down next to her and engaging her in an excited little hushed conversation was Taehyung, Jimin’s tall and overly excited friend. Yoongi snapped a photo of the two, the click of the shutter catching both of their attention. Taehyung looked at him, eyes unblinking before the little girl started tugging on his shirt collar, slightly jumbled English words falling from her lips. Yoongi barely caught the question, but the little girl was obviously asking Taehyung who the guy with the camera was.

 

Taehyung never took his eyes off Yoongi, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned closer to the girl and answered in a stage whisper. Yoongi may not be that fluent in speaking English, but he understood perfectly well what Taehyung had just uttered. Something about him being Jimin’s boyfriend, his Prince Charming. He moved to protest, but the little girl was faster, squealing in excitement as she clapped her hands and turned bright and curious eyes at Yoongi, seemingly seeing him in a new light.

 

Taehyung grinned at him, and Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, maybe berate the man for planting weird ideas in the little girl’s head, but Taehyung beat him to it, making a shooing motion with his hand. “If you’re looking for Chim, he isn’t here,” he said, resting his folded arms on the edge of the girl’s chair, “he’s at the beach, I think. He broke some plates at the kitchen, so his mom’s giving him timeout.”

 

“TImeout…” Yoongi repeated, the idea oddly making him smile in amusement.

 

Taehyung nodded, an equally amused smile on his own face. “Hm, so. There. Beach. Now, go, Yoongi-hyung.”

 

Yoongi huffed a little, turning back to where he came from. It wasn’t like he had been looking for Jimin, anyway, but now that he knew where the boy was, he found his own feet betraying him, already walking him down towards the doors leading to the beach. It was barely nine in the morning, the sun still bearable, so when Yoongi stepped out onto the beach, he didn’t particularly feel like he was melting off his bones. He looked around, seeing the calm waves lapping gently against the shore, and right near the end of the beach where the sand thinned off into the underbrush leading to the cliff was the small hunched figure of Jimin, one hand poking despondently at the wet sand between his toes. The image was so cute, so endearing that Yoongi actually let out a soft coo before snapping a photo.

 

He quietly jogged up to the boy, and as Yoongi neared him he could clearly hear the deep sighs Jimin was exhaling. It made Yoongi smile a bit, something fond bubbling up in his chest. When he was about an arm’s length away, he stopped, slipping his camera back around his neck and shoving one hand into the pocket of his denim shorts. Jimin remained unaware, cheeks puffed up in obvious annoyance as he poked furiously at the sand. Yoongi could see that he’d been at it for a while, the area in front of his feet riddled with tiny little holes.

 

“Timeout, huh?” Yoongi said, careful and quiet enough that his voice wasn’t loud to startle Jimin but the boy was nonetheless still surprised, yelping and jumping in surprise. Yoongi’s eyes widened in amusement as Jimin fell back on his ass, his yelp falling short and strangled as he hit the sandy floor. A beat of silence passed before Yoongi started laughing, doubling over with his free hand pressing on his stomach, laughter wracking his body.

 

Jimin looked up at him indignantly, cheeks flushed a bright red from embarrassment. He opened his mouth to say something, but the waves chose that moment to wash up higher, completely soaking Jimin’s legs and thighs. He yelped in surprise, glaring at the water and at Yoongi. “Hyung, it’s not funny!”

 

“It is,” Yoongi choked out, tears blurring his vision as Jimin remained sitting in the water, an incredulous look on his face. Indignation was clear in his features, but as Yoongi kept on laughing, it gave way to amusement, and soon enough even he was laughing at the pure ridiculousness of the situation. Yoongi sobered up eventually, a smile on his face as he wiped some stray tears while Jimin still giggled breathlessly.

 

“Okay, I’ve got to admit, I guess it is,” Jimin muttered, smiling up at Yoongi sheepishly. Yoongi hummed in agreement, reaching a hand out to help Jimin up. Jimin grinned, a little too sweetly. He wrapped his short fingers around Yoongi’s long ones, and before Yoongi could think about what was happening, Jimin was pulling him down, making him lose his balance and fall back down on his own ass. Water splashed everywhere, and Yoongi gaped at Jimin in disbelief, the younger boy smiling mischievously at him. “It’s funny, what, you looked so silly.”

 

Yoongi shook his head, laughing under his breath as he felt the water soak through his shorts. He crossed his legs underneath him, and they let the silence and peace of the morning wash over them.

 

“How’d you know, by the way? About the timeout thing—which, if I may just add, isn’t a timeout. I-I’m not a child. I mean, it’s not my fault I’m bored out of my wits. School’s out, I had to find something to do,” Jimin huffed softly, crossing his arms and puffing his cheeks as if to further prove his point. Which, Yoongi thought, wasn’t really a good way to prove that he wasn’t a child—huffing petulantly and puffing his cheeks only made him look like a five year old, if Yoongi was going to be honest. Adorable, really.

 

“Taehyung told me,” he said simply, licking his lips and not missing the way Jimin’s gaze tracked his movement, “and—he also told a little girl that I’m your boyfriend.”

 

“He what ?!”

 

“Your Prince Charming, to be specific,” Yoongi added, smiling as he watched the apples of Jimin’s cheeks grow redder by the second. Jimin groaned, burying his face in his hands and pulling up his legs to his chest. He mumbled something, but it was too quiet and too muffled for Yoongi to be able to understand. He leaned closer, careful that his camera wouldn’t accidentally dip into the water. “I can’t hear you, Jiminnie.”

 

Jimin shook his head, a groan escaping his lips before he pulled down his hands. His face was so red, his fringe all mussed up from his fingers. He glanced away, puffing up his cheeks and clenching his fists as he placed them atop his lap. “I-I said, it’s—it’s not true. I mean. We’re not. Boyfriends, or something.”

 

Yoongi bit his lip, that familiar twinge of guilt stabbing at his heart again. He shrugged, reaching out and placing a hand on Jimin’s knee gently. Jimin looked at him, eyes wide and lips parted slightly in surprise. “I know we aren’t, but you know—it’s not exactly a bad idea.”

 

“You mean, us ? It isn’t? A bad idea?” Jimin whispered softly, leaning closer.

 

Yoongi snorted, shaking his head and letting his thumb rub soothing circles on the inside of Jimin’s knee. “Fuck, no. Again—why would being your boyfriend be such a bad idea? I’m sure—” Yoongi swallowed thickly, his shoulders suddenly feeling all sorts of heavy “—I’m sure someone out there will be super fuckin’ lucky to have the honor of being your boyfriend, Park Jimin.”

 

Jimin looked at him intently, his brown eyes shining with something that Yoongi can’t quite figure out.

 

It sucked, really, that Yoongi couldn’t be that someone. He wanted to be that person so badly, but his life wasn’t here, wasn’t in that beach resort. His life was rooted in Korea, in his university, in his stupid fucking zine company, without a gorgeous boy with copper hair in beside him. The best thing he could have with Jimin was a stupid summer fling, and they both knew this. It sucked, and it was stupid, but Yoongi would take what he could get.

 

“Hyung,” Jimin breathed out, his voice soft and gentle as ever, but something thick and heavy lingered in his tone, “Yoongi-hyung, kiss me.”

 

Yoongi looked at him for a moment. Took in the beauty of one Park Jimin, the way his nose sloped so perfectly into a small cute tip, the way his lips always looked so sweet and plump, like ripe juicy peaches, the way the natural flush of his cheeks always made him look extra pretty, the way his eyes drooped so fucking attractively—Yoongi nodded, throat dry as he let his hand on Jimin’s knee slide down to his thigh slowly. “Come here.”

 

Jimin took a sharp intake of breath at the invitation, nodding mindlessly as he scrambled over his own legs. He was careful enough not to knee Yoongi on his legs or anywhere else, and he carefully situated himself on top of his lap, thick gorgeous thighs on either side, small hands perched on Yoongi’s shoulder. He carefully slipped off the camera from around Yoongi’s neck, leaning to the side and gently placing it far from the water’s reach, before settling back down on Yoongi’s warm lap.

 

Yoongi’s hands rested on the curve where Jimin’s thighs and hips met, the warmth of Jimin’s skin seeping through the wet fabric of his clothes. It was quiet, the world seemingly still asleep. The wind blew, ruffling Jimin’s soft hair, orange locks brushing gently against his soft pink cheeks, against his forehead, and Yoongi found himself leaning close, one of his hands moving up to cup the back of Jimin’s neck. He pulled him down, their lips meeting gently halfway. Jimin sighed, moving his lips against Yoongi’s in shy, languid movements.

 

When Yoongi nipped gently at Jimin’s lower lip, a soft moan escaped the younger boy, his back arching, their chests pressing flush against each other. He parted his lips shyly, and Yoongi gripped his hips tighter, pulled him closer despite having no space left between them, and slipped his tongue tentatively into Jimin’s open mouth.

 

Jimin was obviously inexperienced, breathing too heavily, his movements stuttered and timid, but Yoongi absolutely loved every moment of it. He licked into Jimin’s mouth, the flat of his tongue rubbing against Jimin’s, eliciting another whine from him, his small hands gripping Yoongi’s shoulder tightly. He tried his best to keep up, even angling his head a bit to the left, but only succeeding in making their noses bump. He pulled away quickly, the flush high in his cheeks. He blinked once, before hunching into himself as he giggled cutely. Yoongi felt something warm bloom in his chest, aware that the softest, fondest smile must have been on his face at that moment as he watched Jimin giggle breathlessly.

 

“S-sorry,” he whispered, biting his kiss swollen lips as he looked at Yoongi shyly, “I didn’t mean to laugh.”

 

“It’s okay, baby,” Yoongi mumbled, running his hands up Jimin’s side and pulling him closer, feeling how Jimin tensed at the pet name, “it’s cute.”

 

“But we’re m-making out, it’s supposed to be sexy, not cute,” Jimin complained even as he leaned back in, nosing at Yoongi’s cheek, “I don’t want to be cute.”

 

“Sorry but,” Yoongi muttered as he pressed his face closer to the crook of Jimin’s neck, breathing softly against it and watching Jimin’s honey skin break out in goosebumps, “you’re cute.” He started pressing soft kisses against Jimin’s neck, the younger boy sighing at the sensation, his thighs tightening around Yoongi. Yoongi kissed his way up, open mouthed kisses trailing up until the soft skin at the back of Jimin’s ear. He nipped at it gently, licking over the spot and feeling Jimin press closer against him, a moan escaping the boy on top of him. “That good?”

 

Jimin nodded, leaning his face down and baring his neck some more. Yoongi continued with his ministrations, nipping and licking all over Jimin’s skin. Not too hard to bruise, but hard enough to leave little red marks over his skin. Yoongi pulled away, his hands rubbing up and down Jimin’s thighs as the younger boy stayed mum, not looking at Yoongi, his face redder than ever.

 

“You alright, sunshine?”

 

Jimin’s head shot up at the nickname, pupils blown wide from arousal. He gulped, one hand coming up to the marks strewn all over his neck. He bit his lip, before smiling shyly at Yoongi. “Hm, I am, hyung.”

 

Yoongi smiled at him, moving his hands up and slipping them underneath Jimin’s shirt, fingertips pressing warmly against bare skin. He looked at Jimin for permission, and when he saw nothing but bliss in his eyes, Yoongi proceeded to rub soothing circles with his palm over his hipbones. “Good,” he mumbled.

 

Jimin seemed to be deep in thought, teeth clamped down on his lower lip, eyes flitting back and forth between Yoongi’s eyes and his own hand fumbling with the hem of his shirt. “Yoongi-hyung,” he started, voice cracking before he swallowed and cleared his throat. He looked at Yoongi, a frown on his face. “W-will you be my boyfriend?”

 

Yoongi stopped his movements, thoughts halting. Did he hear Jimin right? He stared at Jimin incredulously, but the only answer he got was the nervous downturn of his lips and the blush spreading all the way up to his ears. Jimin glanced at him, before tearing his gaze away again. “I’m,” Yoongi cleared his throat, fingers gripping harder around Jimin, “Jimin. I’m just here for the summer.”

 

“I-I know! I know you are, hyung, but I just. I want to. I-If you want to, I mean, but if you don’t it’s totally fine—”

 

“I’d love to, Park Jimin,” Yoongi cut him off, pushing away Seokjin’s words and his own internal voice telling him how stupid he was being. He pushed them all away as he closed the distance between him and Jimin, their kiss swollen lips meeting in another heated kiss. “I would love to be your boyfriend, Park Jimin.”

 

 

 

 

There was a knock on the door right as Yoongi was drifting off to sleep. He sighed, figuring it was just Seokjin looking for extra socks because he dropped his when he and Namjoon had gone on those stupid boats to the islands. Yoongi slipped off his bed, rummaging through his bag at the foot of the bed and getting out one of his socks—a pair printed all over with Patrick Star’s face. He shuffled to the door, opening the door and grumbling under his breath as he shoved the sock at Seokjin—or whoever he assumed was Seokjin.

 

“Here’s your fuckin’ sock, hyung, stop bothering me, god,” he mumbled, clicking his tongue and looking up—only to feel his own face heat up in embarrassment as one Park Jimin blinked back at him in surprise, plump lips parted in surprise and barely concealed amusement, “J-Jimin. Uh. What?”

 

“I—surprise?” He held up the plastic bag in his hand, and through the transparent material, Yoongi could clearly see the cans of beers and small bags of potato chips. Jimin smiled at him, stifled laughter audible in his words. “Were you, uhm, giving out socks?”

 

Yoongi groaned, opening his door and gesturing for Jimin to come in. When he passed him, Yoongi reached out and flicked Jimin’s ear gently, making the younger boy yelp cutely, cheeks puffing out as he threw a weak glare back at Yoongi. Yoongi stuck his tongue out, kicking the door shut behind him. “No, I wasn’t giving out socks, what the fuck.”

 

“Why were you giving me Patrick socks then?” Jimin plopped down on the bed, carefully placing the plastic bag beside him and looking up at Yoongi as he stuck his hands between his thighs.

 

“Jin-hyung’s already borrowed socks from me twice in the past week. I just figured you were him again,” Yoongi explained tiredly, sitting down on Jimin’s other side. He hesitated for a bit, watching as Jimin turned to the bag to look at whatever he bought, before he threw fuck all into the air and just leaned in, arms wrapping around Jimin’s waist. He pulled him close despite the soft gasp from Jimin, and Yoongi pressed his face against the crook of the younger boy’s neck. “You’re so warm.”

 

“Y-yeah?”

 

“Hm,” Yoongi hummed, pressing a light kiss against his neck before resting his cheek against it. It felt relaxing, bordering on cathartic. Jimin was tense for a few beats, before he eventually relaxed in Yoongi’s arms, leaning back against his chest as he continued fiddling with the plastic bag.

 

“Hyung, do you want some beer?” He asked mindlessly, pushing around the cans in the bag.

 

“I’m tired, baby.” Yoongi fought back a smile at the way Jimin’s skin seemed to grow hotter at the pet name. He hugged him tighter, gently tugging him towards the center of the bed. “Cuddle?”

 

Jimin let out a sound that closely resembled a hum of approval, and a squeak. It was adorable, and Yoongi really just couldn’t get enough of his boyfriend—temporary, he supposed, but still, his boyfriend. He let go for a bit as he crawled back to his spot on the bed, but instead of curling up into a tight ball, he just kept his knees bent lazily, arms open and inviting. Jimin gave him a look before a shy smile blossomed on his face. He crawled closer, head resting on Yoongi’s shoulder, their legs tangled together.

 

Yoongi draped a hand around Jimin’s waist naturally, relishing in the satisfied and content hum that Jimin let out as the younger boy scooted closer into his arms, face angling up to press featherlight kisses on Yoongi’s neck. Jimin’s small hand snaked so slowly around his waist, and Yoongi pressed a kiss on the top of his head in response, making Jimin quicken his actions at the display of affection.

 

“So.” Jimin gently tugged on the hem of Yoongi’s shirt, fingers slipping underneath and tracing patterns on the small of his back.

 

“So?” Yoongi repeated, eyes fluttering close at the sensation.

 

“What do you do back in Korea?”

 

“Hm,” Yoongi hummed under his breath, shifting his head a bit so that his chin pressed lightly on the crown of Jimin’s head, completely tucking him in his hold, “I’m in university—Yonsei, along with Namjoon and Seokjin-hyung. I do some part time thing at this photo company—I told you about this, I think? The photos I’m taking are for this job.”

 

Jimin lifted his head a bit to look at Yoongi’s face, but Yoongi only reached a hand out and pulled Jimin’s head back to his chest again. If he saw Jimin’s cheeks burst into a deep shade of red, he kept it to himself. “Have you started taking pictures, hyung? Why aren’t you showing me! I thought—I thought you said I was the perfect subject for your theme. Uhm. Beauty, right?”

 

Yoongi laughed airily, curling around Jimin closer and feeling the younger boy squirm in his hold. “Yeah, I did say that.”

 

“So you took pictures already?”

 

“Hm,” Yoongi stalled for a few seconds until Jimin gently pinched the skin of his back, “it’s a secret—ow, stop pinching, you brat! You’ll see it, I promise.”

 

Jimin nodded his head, pressing circles with his fingertips on the spot that he had pinched. He pressed a kiss on Yoongi’s collarbones, the soft wet sound making Yoongi’s stomach flip. “Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin suddenly mumbled, lips brushing against the bare skin of his collarbones, “will you, uhm. Will you—gosh, this is harder than I thought. Uh. W-will you have, uhm, s-sex with me?”

 

Yoongi almost sat up from the surprise, but Jimin was holding on so tight, face pressed hard against his chest. He could feel his small hands clutching fistfuls of the back of his shirt, and reluctantly, Yoongi laid back down, suddenly aware that Jimin’s thigh was pressed against his own crotch. “Did you—uh, well. Of course, I’d love to, but, uhm. Are you sure? With me?”

 

Jimin giggled softly, his warm breath seeping through Yoongi’s shirt and making the hair on his arms stand up. “Y-yeah, I mean—yeah. I’m sure.”

 

“W-well,” Yoongi mumbled, licking his lips nervously as he suddenly became extremely hyper aware of their bare skin touching, “not tonight, of course, I don’t—I don’t have anything with me right now.”

 

“Oh.” Jimin inched himself closer, seemingly nervous as he nodded his head mindlessly. “Will it, uhm, will it hurt?”

 

Yoongi finally shot up at this, Jimin slipping out of his arms with a quiet yelp. He looked down at Jimin, the younger boy sprawled out on the bed with his limbs lying limp by his head. He blinked up at Yoongi, blush high on his cheeks, his lips slightly swollen and red from having worried at it too much. Yoongi swallowed, his hand resting on Jimin’s thigh nervously. “It’s—your first?”

 

Jimin’s face only blushed harder, if possible. He pouted, seemingly offended, but he didn’t deny either. “I-I’ve watched porn, okay! T-Taehyung made me watch them because he thought I was too, uhm, innocent.”

 

“Oh my god,” Yoongi groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, “you really are a kid, fuck.”

 

“I-I’m not!” Jimin sat up, pouting indignantly as he crossed his arms over his chest, glancing away and trying to appear nonchalant. “I’ve tried s-stuff. By myself. W-with my fingers. They’re short, b-but I still liked it.”

 

“Holy shit,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, trying to push away the mental images of Jimin on all fours, ass up in the air, toes curling as his short fingers barely reached that special bundle of nerves inside that would make him see stars in an instant. Yoongi pushed them all away, willing himself not to get a boner.

 

When Jimin moved to say something else, Yoongi groaned again, lunging forward and taking down Jimin in a bear hug. Jimin squealed, laughing a little in surprise when Yoongi nuzzled his cheek, planting kisses everywhere he could. They laughed quietly, hands roaming everywhere until Jimin found himself in Yoongi’s arms again, content and happy and warm. He licked his lips, pressing himself closer to Yoongi’s chest. “When are you going back to Korea?”

 

Yoongi’s eyes fluttered open then, sleep completely evading him as Jimin’s weight and warmth seemed to multiply tenfold at the question. He was suddenly aware of how fucking stupid he was for agreeing to be Jimin’s boyfriend, to be his summer fling, to give him fleeting joy only to crush it so soon. Stupid of him to fall so fucking easily for the boy with the breathtaking smile and gorgeous laugh. He pulled Jimin closer, humming lowly. “Soon.”

 

“Will you miss me?” Jimin was rubbing his leg gently against Yoongi’s, his breath fanning out across bare skin. “I mean—w-we may not be like, real boyfriends or anything, but I do like hyung. You’re a cool, attractive man, and you’re also very kind, so—there’s that. And, I think we can be considered friends, right? Friends with benefits, I suppose, but—friends?”

 

“Well—’course, I’ll miss you, Jiminnie.” Yoongi felt the soft strands of Jimin’s hair tickle his lips, his chin, his nose, and as creepy as it was, he slowly breathed in Jimin’s scent. Fuck, everything about the boy was so soft . He was going to miss this—miss him.

 

Jimin shifted a bit in his hold, leaning up to kiss his chin. “...good night, Yoongi-hyung.”

 

“...good night, Jimin-ah.”

 

 

 

 

An email from his work, and another two from his professors was glaring at him from the screen of his phone. Yoongi glared back, feeling only a tad bit silly for doing so, but he can’t help the irrational bitter emotion bubbling up inside him. The emails had pulled him back to reality, reminding him of the busy boring life he had in Korea. It pulled him away from his little fantasy with the boy with the copper orange hair and soft supple honey skin. He frowned, closing his inbox and throwing his phone on the bed.

 

He didn’t want to be reminded of his departure, he’d even gone as far as hiding his plane ticket in the deepest part of his luggage. He knew he had to leave eventually, but he had hoped to live longer in his little bubble. The emails had popped it, pulling him back down to the ground.

 

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. His gaze fell on the plastic bag Jimin had brought two nights ago, and despite himself, a smile slowly found its way onto his face, images of how flustered they both had been talking about sex coming back to him. He snickered into his hand, before shaking his head and standing up. He grabbed his wallet from the bedside table, and quickly headed out of his room, out of the hotel. He hailed a cab to the grocery store he had gone to with Jimin, knee bouncing to some random beat.

 

As soon as he arrived, he quickly paid the cab driver the exact amount, fumbling a bit with his English, before he walked to the grocery store, making a beeline for one of the aisles at the back. Nothing was embarrassing about what he was doing, really, but he couldn’t help and blush as some of the elderly ladies looked at him funny as he walked out of the aisle with a small bottle of clear liquid, and a box of condoms in his arms.

 

Just when Yoongi thought he was already over with the embarrassment, the lady who ended up checking out his items was the lady that Jimin had talked to—Alika, was it? The lady close to Jimin and his mom? Well, fuck.

 

“Oh,” she said suddenly, staring at Yoongi as she too recognized him. Probably. Hopefully not, Yoongi thought, looking down at his hands and pretending it was more interesting than his total amount. “You’re Jimin’s boyfriend, aren’t you, sweetie?”

 

Yoongi understood her pretty clearly, and he hoped his ears weren’t as red as they felt. He looked at the lady, contemplating what to say before sighing deeply, letting himself nod once. A curt nod. Maybe she wouldn’t see it, and think that Yoongi understood nothing, but the delighted giggle she let out told him otherwise.

 

“Oh, this is so adorable,” she squealed, waving around the bottle of lube and box of condoms in front of her face, “take care of our sweet, cute Jimin, okay, honey?”

 

Yoongi just nodded his head furiously, handing out too many bills. She moved to give them back, but he waved her away, just taking the plastic bag and bolting it out of there. He barely registered the lady yelling something—something along the lines of, “I’ll keep it a secret, don’t worry! ”, but Yoongi wasn’t sure, nor did he bother to care. The whole experience was embarrassing enough already as it was.

 

(When Jimin saw Yoongi sitting lifelessly in the lounge that afternoon, he bounced up to him, plopping down next to him on the small chaise lounge chair. There was a black plastic bag resting innocently on his lap, and the previous phone call he had with his Aunt Alika suddenly came flooding back to him.

 

“Hyung, Aunt Alika called earlier, said she saw you at the store, and that you bought something, uh, funny? She wouldn’t tell me what, though,” he mumbled, watching as Yoongi looked at him blankly, “is this it?”

 

As Jimin slowly reached for the bag, life seemed to kick back into Yoongi. He sat up straight, pushing the plastic bag behind him. His cheeks were so pink, and before Jimin could even ask what the fuck was happening, Yoongi leaned over, planted a chaste kiss on his lips, before wordlessly standing up and running out of the lobby, seemingly towards his room.

 

Jimin blinked, amused but completely lost and bewildered).

 

 

 

 

Yoongi doesn’t know how he got separated from his two absurdly tall friends, but once again, he was lost. He wasn’t in a fucking market district this time, but at a fucking summer carnival. He was pretty sure Jimin and Taehyung were around there somewhere, but he was too annoyed to actually go around and bump into people just to search. So he ended up standing by the side, Seokjin’s balloon in his hand. He couldn’t even play any of the games because he’d end up wasting money—he was bad at these things.

 

“Yoongi-hyung?”

 

Yoongi turned to the side, and suddenly, his day just seemed brighter and happier, his annoyance melting to give way to something warm. Jimin jogged over to him, laughing brightly at the neon yellow balloon in his hand.

 

“Are you alone?” Jimin reached over to hold his hand, and Yoongi instantly laced their fingers together, smiling softly at the way Jimin’s smile grew shy, but fond. He nodded his head, and Jimin hummed, tugging him closer as he started walking. “I was with Taehyung, but he ditched me some minutes ago. Do you, uhm, want to walk around with me?”

 

Yoongi nodded, tightening his hold on Jimin and trying to calm his heart when Jimin shot him a smile over his shoulder.

 

If, at first, Yoongi had found the carnival a completely rowdy and messy affair, with Jimin next to him and smiling at all the cute attractions, it suddenly wasn’t so bad. Not even lining up for the rides made him grumpy, each minute spent with Jimin somehow making his day worth it.

 

They got on the Ferris Wheel the last. Yoongi had requested it, Jimin had refused after reminding him that he didn’t like heights at all, but Yoongi had kissed him sweetly then, promising to hold his hand all the way through it because the view at the top of any Ferris Wheel was always worth the wait and fear. Instead of sitting face to face, Jimin sat next to him, their bodies pressed against each other. Jimin pulled Yoongi’s arm around him, his face pressed on Yoongi’s chest as their car started going up, up, up .

 

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi breathed out once the car was at the top, nudging Jimin gently. Jimin whined a bit, before peeking up and keeping his eyes trained on Yoongi’s face. Yoongi kissed him on the forehead, before nodding his head in the direction of the windows. “Look, baby, isn’t it beautiful?”

 

It was nighttime, the carnival almost nearing its closing time. In the distance, the ocean was a dark mass of gentle rippling waves, the thick blanket of stars reflected in them. The moon—a beautiful crescent curving high above the stars, reminded Yoongi of the gentle way Jimin’s eyes curved when he smiled, when he laughed. Below them, the colorful fairy lights of the carnival glowed softly.

 

Yoongi felt Jimin tense as he looked around, a gasp escaping his lips as he looked at the sight. “It’s so beautiful,” he breathed out, the fear completely absent from his voice.

 

Yoongi kept on looking at Jimin, the way his cheeks flushed from their day, the way his hair was slightly dancing in the gentle breeze up high in the air, the alluring way his lips parted open to let tiny gasps of awe escape his lips. Yoongi nodded, cupping Jimin’s face tenderly. “Yeah, it’s so beautiful.”

 

Jimin turned to him, a curious twinkle in his eyes before they shifted to one of shy adoration. He ducked his head bashfully, teeth biting down on his lip as he blushed at the offhanded compliment. “Hyung, you’re so ridiculous.”

 

Yoongi shrugged, a teasing smile on his face before he leaned forward and captured Jimin’s lips in a kiss.

 

Jimin sighed, running his hands up Yoongi’s hair as he parted his mouth, tongue licking into Yoongi’s carefully. Yoongi let him lead, let his short fingers pull gently on the mint strands of his hair. Jimin curled his tongue around Yoongi’s, sucking on it gently and pulling away only to nip on his lower lip. Yoongi hadn’t even realized that his hand was hovering near Jimin’s ass, and Jimin shuddered when Yoongi ran his big hand all across Jimin’s back.

 

A switch seemed to have been turned on in Yoongi when Jimin moaned, because the next thing he knew, he was cupping Jimin’s jaw, angling it to the side for a better, deeper kiss. Jimin let him, tried to keep up with the way Yoongi licked and sucked on his tongue, on his lips. When Yoongi moved away, planting open mouthed kisses across his jaw, his neck, Jimin’s hands fisted at the front of his shirt, tugging on it weakly.

 

“H-hyung, can we—t-tonight, I—” Jimin could barely say what he wanted, pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed pink with arousal. Yoongi nodded, growling low as he sucked a mark onto Jimin’s neck.

 

Somebody cleared their throat, and it took Yoongi a moment to pull away, mind hazy with Jimin, Jimin, Jimin . He looked up, and promptly felt his face heat up in embarrassment when he realized that their car was already at the bottom, and that the Ferris Wheel attendant was giving them the stink eye. He probably thought they fucked at the top—which seemed hot, but Yoongi would like to take his time with Jimin and make the younger boy’s first time as romantic as possible, thank you.

 

He glanced down at their feet, grinning sheepishly as he pulled a dazed Jimin up from the seat. He dragged them both away from the ride, blushing harder at the snickers from the other people. When Jimin finally understood what was happening, he quickly hugged Yoongi’s arm to his chest, hiding half his face against his shoulder (but Yoongi could feel the cheeky little smile against his sleeve, and it made his heart jump a little—daring little Jiminnie).

 

The carnival was only a few minutes walk from the beach resort, and they quietly made their way back, occasionally teasing and joking about something, if only to dissipate the tension. Jimin still hadn’t let go of Yoongi’s arm, cheek still pressed sweetly against the curve of his shoulder. They walked through the lobby, and Jimin didn’t comment on how Yoongi’s hands shook a bit as he slotted his keycard in through the lock on his door.

 

Jimin let go of him, shuffling inside first. Yoongi took a deep breath as he closed the door. The lock clicked. There was a moment of silence before Yoongi turned around. Jimin was already sitting at the foot of the bed, biting down on his lip nervously, small hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt and slightly lifting them up. Yoongi could see a smooth strip of skin underneath. He swallowed thickly before walking over and stopping in front of Jimin.

 

Slowly, he knelt down between Jimin’s knees, hands resting on his thighs and rubbing up and down soothingly. Jimin gasped at the contact, eyes wide as he stared at Yoongi. “Jiminnie, we don’t have to if you’re nervous, okay? You—don’t force yourself just because Taehyung thinks you’re too innocent.”

 

“No, hyung, you see,” Jimin started, licking his lips and letting his shirt drop from his hands. He reached out, cupping Yoongi’s face and tilting it up. “I like you, hyung, and you’re leaving soon. I—I’d like to share something special with you, if only to make me feel like we’re closer to each other.”

 

“Jimin, I—”

 

“Please, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin whispered, leaning closer until their lips were brushing, “I want you.”

 

Yoongi closed the distance between them, fingers gripping tight around Jimin’s thighs. He slid them up, all the way to his ass, cupping them as he pulled Jimin close, closer until Jimin got the hint and wrapped his legs around Yoongi. They kept on kissing—chaste little nibbles, sweet little pecks—while Yoongi kept Jimin wrapped around him, scooting up the bed and placing Jimin gently on the center. He broke the kiss, looked down at the dazed look on Jimin’s face.

 

“You are so beautiful, Park Jimin,” he whispered, propping his weight on one elbow next to Jimin’s head while his free hand gripped Jimin’s left thigh firmly. A gentle squeeze had Jimin sighing softly, eyes fluttering close. Yoongi leaned down, lips pressing on the fading marks strewn all across Jimin’s neck, Jimin’s collarbones. “You are so fucking gorgeous, baby,” he whispered against the skin, nipping and licking, planting new bruises, making sure they’d stay for the days to come, and feeling Jimin squirm underneath him, soft breathy moans escaping his lips, “I hate that I have to fuckin’ go and leave such a beautiful boy like you. My gorgeous, beautiful baby boy.”

 

Jimin keened at the praises, and the reaction had Yoongi’s half-hard cock twitching in his shorts. He gripped Jimin’s thigh firmly, pulling him up a bit until their clothed cocks were pressing against each other. Yoongi rolled his hips once, trying to see how Jimin would react—and when Jimin let out a choked out moan, gently arching his back, his hands scrambling up to grip the front of Yoongi’s shirt for some semblance of control, Yoongi rolled his hips again. Slowly, gently, not too much. He needed more, but seeing the desperation slowly build in Jimin’s actions was something he found himself greatly enjoying.

 

“Y-Yoongi-hyung, stop t-teasing, please,” he whispered, eyes fluttering open and his voice coming out more as a breath rather than actual words. When Yoongi moved to roll his hips again, Jimin rolled back, pulling out a grunt from Yoongi. “I-I need more, stop being r-rude.”

 

Yoongi laughed a bit, nodding as he sat back on his haunches. Jimin whined at the loss of contact, but stopped mid-whine when Yoongi reached over to slip his hands underneath Jimin’s shirt, a silent question to take it off. Jimin pouted, cheeks coloring as he bit his lip. Yoongi quirked an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

 

“You first.”

 

Yoongi blinked, before nodding a quiet okay . He sat back, reached up to grab the back of his shirt, and pulled it off in one fluid motion. He shook his head in an attempt to tame his messy hair, but noticed the awestruck look on Jimin’s face, brown eyes almost black as he stared at Yoongi’s bare torso.

 

Yoongi wasn’t exactly buff, nor was he extremely lanky, but he was aware that he was slightly toned. He liked his physique enough to not be embarrassed about it. He watched as Jimin pushed himself up on his elbows, tongue darting out as he wet his lips. “You—shit, hyung, you’re hot. I’m—you really weren’t kidding when you told me you’re not thin, or lanky...fuck, i-is it hot in here or—?”

 

Yoongi chuckled, shrugging his shoulders before he leaned forward, hands tugging gently on the hem of Jimin’s shirt. “Your turn.”

 

Jimin pushed himself up completely, glancing away as he tugged off his shirt himself, slowly and shyly. He tossed it to where Yoongi had tossed his, and kept his eyes glued to the side. Yoongi cupped his cheek, angling it back to make their gazes meet.

 

“Baby, look at me,” Yoongi whispered, voice deep and soft, “don’t be shy, please. I’d like to see you.”

 

Jimin nodded, glancing up at Yoongi through his eyelashes. Yoongi kissed him sweetly, before pushing him back down on the bed and finally, finally looking at Jimin—and fuck, why was the boy so embarrassed?

 

Jimin was petite, that much Yoongi had noticed. While they had the same height, Yoongi still had broader shoulders and a broader chest, his hands bigger, hell, even his voice was deeper. With Jimin, however, everything was—cute. Small, pretty, slim. His narrow shoulders tapered down nicely to a slim waist, the gentle dips of his abs looking so delicate and just really pretty, overall accentuating his lithe figure. He was gorgeous, and Yoongi felt so fucking lucky to have the chance to shower this beautiful boy with much deserved praises, much deserved love.

 

He leaned down, planting a kiss on Jimin’s collarbone as he ran his hands all along his sides, squeezing gently at his waist. “So, so pretty,” Yoongi mumbled, letting his lips brush and slide against Jimin’s warm skin, basking in the moans that Jimin let out. He trailed his kisses farther down, glancing up at Jimin once before letting his mouth close over a pert, pink nipple, while gently flicking the other with a fingertip.

 

Jimin arched his back, a sharp gasp ripping out of his throat while his hand shot up to Yoongi’s hair, fingers tangling with faded mint locks, legs hooking loosely around Yoongi’s hips. He tugged on him gently every time Yoongi sucked, tongue swirling slowly around the perky bud. Jimin bucked his hips up weakly, breathing heavily as he felt arousal coil thickly around the pit of his stomach. “Y-Yoongi-hyung, I—” Jimin rasped out, thoughts incoherent as Yoongi continued his actions, popping his mouth over to the other and not giving Jimin a moment to breathe.

 

Yoongi liked unraveling his partners, and even more so with Jimin—because Jimin wasn’t just a partner, if he was going to be honest. There was something special about the boy, and Yoongi would be damned if he didn’t pleasure Jimin the best he could, if he didn’t give Jimin the best first time, so despite his own aching cock in his shorts, he worked slowly on him, enjoying the gentle tugs Jimin did to his hair, the way the soft heels of his feet pressed desperately against his lower back, desperate for any kind of contact.

 

Yoongi pulled away, flicking Jimin’s nipples a few more times before kissing back up his chest, up his neck, across his jaw, nipping hard at his lower lip and making Jimin whine desperately. If Jimin was this sensitive—fuck, just even thinking about it had Yoongi’s cock throb in anticipation. Jimin kissed him back with a newfound sense of desperation, and it made Yoongi feel proud that a little foreplay was enough to put Jimin in such a state.

 

“Hyung, t-take off—shorts—I-I need you,” Jimin gasped out between kisses, hooking his legs tighter around Yoongi and trying to buck up against his cock. Yoongi pushed him down, nodding his head before sitting up. He hooked his fingers on Jimin’s waistband, glancing up at Jimin for an affirmation. Jimin licked his lips as he nodded, lifting his hips up a bit as Yoongi finally pulled down his shorts.

 

The room was dark, only the moon and stars reflecting off the ocean illuminating the inside. Yoongi could still see Jimin, and even with the dim visibility, he just knew that Jimin was beautiful every which way. The younger boy still seemed shy about being completely naked, so Yoongi wordlessly got up and slipped out of his own shorts, joining the other on the bed once more. Jimin gulped audibly, eyes locked on Yoongi’s face, the blush high on his cheeks and ears.

 

“Jiminnie, you can look, you know, it’s okay,” Yoongi whispered, resuming his previous position and sitting in between Jimin’s legs again. Jimin nodded, blinking furiously as his gaze travelled down, locking intently on Yoongi’s cock, hard and leaking a bit against his flat stomach. It curved up prettily, much like Jimin’s, but even Jimin himself had to admit that Yoongi was definitely bigger than him.

 

“Hyung, will that, uhm, even fit—i-it’s so big, I, uh,” Jimin stammered, words dying in his throat as he stared at Yoongi’s cock shamelessly.

 

Yoongi rolled his eyes, completely endeared by Jimin. He hovered over Jimin again, hissing a bit when their cocks rubbed together accidentally. Jimin gasped at the contact, eyes flitting back up to meet Yoongi’s. “It’s why I need to prep you well—so that it won’t hurt, and that, well, it’ll fit.”

 

Jimin nodded his head wordlessly, obviously nervous. Yoongi kissed him chastely on the lips as he sat up, before reaching over and grabbing a pillow. He tapped Jimin’s hip lightly, and Jimin lifted his ass as Yoongi placed the pillow beneath his lower back. As soon as Jimin was comfortable, Yoongi reached into the bedside table, pulling out the black plastic bag he’d gotten a few days ago.

 

At the sight of the bag, Jimin suddenly burst out in a fit of breathless giggles, making Yoongi look back at him in surprise. There was a fond look on Jimin’s face, a smile so soft it had Yoongi’s heart flipping dangerously in his chest. “So this was what Aunt Alika meant when she said you got something funny.” Yoongi groaned at the memory, pouting a little as he placed the bag next to Jimin, hovering over him again and scrunching his nose in mock annoyance. Jimin laughed, reaching up and cupping Yoongi’s face. “Oh, hyung, you really are so adorable—I’ll really miss you when you go back.”

 

Yoongi pushed away the somber feeling, surging forward instead and catching Jimin’s lips in a messy, open mouthed kiss. Jimin yelped in surprise, fingers sliding up into Yoongi’s hair. Yoongi sucked on his tongue relentlessly, making Jimin moan loudly at the back of his throat. When he pulled away after a gentle nibble on his lower lip, Jimin’s eyes were glazed over, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

 

“Baby, I’m going to prep you now, okay?”

 

Jimin nodded, blinking slowly. “Okay, I trust you, hyung.”

 

While it wasn’t Yoongi’s first time, he felt nervous as well, probably even more so than Jimin did. Jimin trusted him, trusted him enough to not make his first time hurt, and while Yoongi took pride in how thorough he was, he couldn’t help but feel completely, utterly nervous. He’d always loved using a lot of lube, but even with his standard, he’d squirted too much. Jimin didn’t say anything, so he guessed the younger boy didn’t notice. He tapped Jimin’s knee gently as he carefully warmed the lube in his right hand.

 

“I want you to pull your legs up to your chest, sunshine, can you do that?” He asked, leaning over and kissing the inside of Jimin’s knee.

 

Jimin nodded, breathing shakily as he hooked his hands at the back of his knees. He pulled them up slowly, almost shyly, before glancing away as he opened himself up to Yoongi. Yoongi’s throat parched at the sight of Jimin’s flexibility, his pink entrance only for Yoongi to see, to touch, his ass smooth and unblemished. He shook himself out of his thoughts before scooting closer, placing one hand on the soft underside of Jimin’s thigh. He let his other hand hover around Jimin’s hole, puckered and waiting.

 

“Ready?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“Relax, love, okay?” Yoongi whispered, pressing one finger against Jimin’s entrance. He felt Jimin’s muscles tense under his hand, his finger just circling around his hole. Jimin shut his eyes tight, biting down on his lip. “Jiminnie, it’ll help if you just let yourself go, alright? Let me hear you.”

 

Jimin hummed, a high pitched sound in his mouth before his eyes fluttered open, his teeth letting go of his abused lower lip. His lips parted, releasing low breaths as Yoongi’s finger pressed lightly on his entrance. When Yoongi pushed in all the way to the second knuckle, slow and careful, Jimin cocked his head to the side, face pinched in confusion. Yoongi fought back a smile at the cute expression. He pushed in until his finger was all the way in, not moving but wiggling his finger inside a bit.

 

“Okay?” Yoongi asked, rubbing the soft flesh of his thigh.

 

“Hm, yeah,” Jimin breathed out, still with that pinched expression, “it’s still okay—feels weird, but. Your fingers really are longer, I’ve never really reached that far…”

 

Yoongi laughed, doubling over until he could kiss the inside of Jimin’s thighs. He started pumping his finger in at a slow steady pace, and he felt Jimin squirm underneath him. For a moment, nothing could be heard aside from Jimin’s heavy breathing and the soft squelch of his finger.

 

When Jimin seemed to be growing impatient, Yoongi crooked his finger as he kept on thrusting, moving it in a come hither motion. When he brushed against a velvety bundle of nerves, Jimin let out a high pitched cry. Yoongi smirked, tongue darting out as he pressed against the same spot over and over, watching as ragged breaths left the younger boy’s lips. Yoongi pulled out to put more lube on his fingers, before pressing his finger back in. After pulling back out once, he added another finger, and gently pushed two digits in.

 

Jimin tensed, a surprised gasp leaving his lips. He looked at Yoongi, and Yoongi shushed him softly, kissing the inside of his thighs, nipping and sucking as he pushed in slowly. Jimin whined at the sensation, and Yoongi stopped, letting the younger boy get used first. When Jimin relaxed beneath him, he nodded. “O-okay, go.” Yoongi obliged, pushing in and feeling Jimin’s tight wet heat around his two fingers. He waited for a bit before he moved his fingers inside in a slow scissoring motion. He pulled back out, biting at Jimin’s thigh to distract him from the discomfort, hooking his two fingers and deliberately sliding only barely against his prostate, just enough to keep him on edge.

 

Yoongi took great care in stretching Jimin, kissing his skin, marking him, praising him, while fingering him open until Yoongi had a little more ease when pushing back in. When Jimin bucked down on his fingers, Yoongi felt his cock twitch in excitement.

 

He pushed in a third finger when Jimin started moaning louder, eye lashes clumping together with unshed tears, the pain obviously having dulled to pleasure at this point. He pressed his hands against his eyes when Yoongi started fucking him in earnest with three fingers, fingertips relentlessly pushing against his special spot, Yoongi completely mesmerized by the way Jimin writhed desperately against the sheets, loud moans ripping out of his small body, thighs squeezing together against Yoongi.

 

“P-please,” he gasped out, his voice tapering off into a sob, “please, I want you in me, hyung…”

 

Yoongi nodded blankly, throat parched as he swallowed thickly. He pulled out his fingers, wiping them carelessly on the sheets before he got the bottle of lube beside Jimin. He reached over to get the box of condoms, too, but Jimin stopped him. There was a curious and hopeful glint in his eyes.

 

“Can we—can we do it without that?” He asked quietly, fingers wrapped loosely around Yoongi’s wrist.

 

“I—w-well, I’m clean, and I’m guessing you are, too, but I figured you’d want to have protected sex the first time, and I—”

 

“Well, you guessed wrong,” Jimin chirped, sticking his tongue out and looking mighty cheeky despite looking so fucked out already. Yoongi shook his head before sitting back down.

 

“Alright, princess, your wish is my command,” Yoongi teased, smirking when Jimin blushed at the pet name, his flushed cock twitching in response.

 

Yoongi returned his attention back to the bottle of lube in his hand, and he poured some over his own cock, throbbing and aching so much now that he finally let himself think about it. He lubed himself up slowly, hissing at the contact of his cock against his hand. He chucked the lube away, not knowing where it fell nor did he care at this point. All he could think about was Jimin’s pink hole clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.

 

Jimin hitched his legs higher as Yoongi placed both his hands on the back of his thighs. He looked up at Jimin as he lined his cock with his entrance. “Baby, I’m going in, okay?”

 

“Okay, okay, fuck—I need you, Yoongi-hyung,” he breathed out, desperation leaking from his voice.

 

Yoongi wasted no time. He pressed the tip of his cock against Jimin, groaning softly when Jimin’s entrance clenched around him. He grit his teeth, slowly pushing in and holding himself back from just ramming in and giving himself the relief he’d been craving for since he pushed Jimin down on the bed.

 

Jimin was still tight, as Yoongi expected, so he went as slow as he could, pushing in inch by inch at a snail’s pace, watching Jimin’s face closely for any signs of pain, or discomfort. Aside from the occasional pinched eyebrows, Jimin’s face was nothing but pure bliss, lips parted in a silent moan, eyes shut tight in pleasure. Yoongi pushed all way until his balls pressed against Jimin’s ass. He could feel the excess lube sliding all around their skin, feel Jimin’s tight heat around his cock, feel his pink rim clench around his base.

 

He squeezed Jimin’s thighs before moving his hands beside Jimin’s head. Jimin’s eyes fluttered open, arms moving up and curling around Yoongi’s neck, thighs falling forward and wrapping loosely around Yoongi’s hips. A smile stretched his plump lips gently, crooked tooth adorably peeking out, and Yoongi felt the breath get knocked out of him. “Yoongi-hyung, I’m so full—y-you feel so good inside me,” he whispered, pulling him down for a soft kiss. Yoongi kissed him back, smiling against it, until Jimin nodded his head.

 

Yoongi pulled away, eyes trained on Jimin’s face as he rolled his hips back experimentally. Jimin inhaled sharply at the sensation, a drawn out moan coming out of him when Yoongi pushed back in in one fluid move. His arms around Yoongi’s neck tightened, thighs squeezing as Yoongi pulled back out, thrusting back in harder. A strangled, high pitched sob escaped Jimin’s lips, and with a stuttered sob of “faster, hyung ”, Yoongi did as he was told.

 

He braced his weight on his elbows, letting Jimin keep his arms around his neck, their foreheads pressed together. Jimin hitched his legs up higher as Yoongi fucked into him hard and fast, hips pistoning at a furious pace, and causing the headboard of the bed to hit against the wall with a dull thudding beat. Nothing could be heard in the room aside from the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet squelching sounds of Yoongi’s cock fucking into Jimin’s tight hole like music to their ears, the high pitched staccato of “ah, ah, ah ”s from Jimin, and the low grunts and moans from Yoongi. Jimin pressed his heels against Yoongi’s lower back, toes curling when Yoongi changed his angle, the tip of his cock hitting his prostate head on.

 

Jimin thrashed wildly, body shuddering as Yoongi consistently hit that same bundle of nerves. Tears flowed freely from Jimin’s eyes, his back arching as he neared his orgasm, the familiar ball of heat coiling in the pit of his stomach. He moved his hands down to Yoongi’s side, rubbing up and down as he urged him to go faster, go harder, fuck me like you mean it . Yoongi seemed to get the message, hooking his hands underneath Jimin’s legs and pushing them back against his chest.

 

“Oh my god.” Jimin was practically sobbing into his hands, the new angle allowing Yoongi to thrust in deeper, hit his prostate much harder than before. He tried to muffle his moans, but no matter how much he tried, his hands just kept shaking, lewd sounds coming out of his mouth that he wasn’t even aware he could make. His hands found Yoongi’s back, and with one particular hard thrust, Jimin ended up scratching down his back, and Yoongi hissed at the sensation.

 

“Holy fuck, you’re so fucking tight, baby—fuck .” The feeling of Jimin clenching around his cock, so hot and wet and just fucking perfect was driving him insane, like each thrust wasn’t even enough. Jimin’s moans spurred him on, and he was pretty sure he’d never fucked anyone this hard and fast before—only Jimin, and he was happy about that.

 

“H-hyung, I’m going t-to—ah , I’m clo—” Jimin didn’t even finish his sentence. He came untouched with a loud sob bordering on a scream, his body shuddering wildly beneath Yoongi as thick ropes of cum shot out of his cock. Some of it splattered onto his chin, but the rest painted his beautiful honey skin a pretty white. He kept on sobbing softly through his orgasm, thighs going limp under Yoongi’s hands. Yoongi kept on thrusting into him as he chased his own orgasm, eyes flitting down to see Jimin’s pink hole clenching around him, the ring of muscle turning a little bit pinker from Yoongi’s hard thrusting. “Hyung,” Jimin whispered tiredly, close to a whine, and when Yoongi moved to pull out, Jimin quickly held him in place with his legs, pushing him back in and making himself gasp. “You—you need to come in me,” he begged, “please.”

 

One look at the completely blissed and fucked out look on Jimin’s face was enough to push Yoongi closer to the edge. With two more thrusts, he was coming undone, vision blacking out for a moment, hips stuttering in their motions as he shot his load into Jimin, hands slipping and falling back around Jimin’s head. He kept on thrusting slowly and erratically, riding out his orgasm despite Jimin whining in oversensitivity. It wasn’t like he could pull out, anyway—Jimin kept a tight lock on him with his legs.

 

For a moment, it was quiet.

 

Nothing but their heavy breathing filled the room. Yoongi was still bottomed out inside Jimin, the both of them still dazed as they recovered from their orgasms. Yoongi hovered above Jimin, their eyes locked. They were both sweaty, hair matted to their foreheads, skin glistening from sweat, cum, and lube. It wasn’t until Jimin breathed out a quiet and awed, “wow ”, did the bubble of silence pop, and the both of them started laughing quietly to themselves, hushed and breathless.

 

“Is it always this good?” Jimin asked curiously, wincing a little when Yoongi shifted between his legs. His cock lay flaccid against his stomach, Yoongi’s buried soft and limp inside Jimin. His previous shyness about the intimacy of sex was gone, replaced only by a happy, blissful afterglow.

 

“Honestly,” Yoongi mumbled, leaning close and kissing Jimin deeply before continuing, “that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

 

“Eh, maybe it has something to do with the partner,” Jimin mumbled back, sleepy and content.

 

“Maybe so,” Yoongi agreed, reaching a hand and caressing Jimin’s cheek with the back of his hand.

 

As much as Yoongi wanted to just bask in Jimin’s afterglow—the way his cheeks seemed redder, his eyes glistening and damp, lips swollen and red, hair messed up so beautifully—he had to clean them up. He pulled out slowly, whispering hushed apologies when Jimin whined from the overstimulation. He watched, completely mesmerized, as his own cum started dripping out from Jimin’s hole.

 

“O-oh,” Jimin suddenly said, legs twitching in surprise, “it’s leaking out…”

 

Yoongi had to forcefully tear his gaze away so he wouldn’t get turned on. He shuffled into the bathroom, grabbing towels and wetting them with lukewarm water. When he came back, Jimin was close to dozing off, soft snores already leaving his lips. Yoongi knelt down beside him, carefully wiping away the cum on his stomach, on his chin. He moved to his thighs, wrinkling his nose a bit at all the lube that got smeared everywhere. He felt sorry for the hotel’s housekeeping all of a sudden. He lifted Jimin’s leg, the younger boy whining in his sleep, but Yoongi paid him no mind, carefully setting to work as he wiped away the cum leaking out of his ass.

 

When he was done, he wiped at his own body quickly. He yawned as he shuffled around the room, quietly picking up their discarded clothes and the dirty towels and piling them up in one corner. He gently pulled the dirty sheet and blanket from underneath Jimin, the boy too tired and fucked out to even notice what was happening. Yoongi balled up the dirty sheets, threw it onto the pile of dirty clothes, before looking in the drawers under the bed for extra sheets.

 

He pulled out the extra blanket, crawling up the bed and lying down next to Jimin. He spread the blanket over their bodies, before he wrapped an arm around Jimin’s waist and pulled him flush against his chest. Jimin stirred in his sleep, shifting his head so that it rested on Yoongi’s arm. Yoongi looked at Jimin’s face, free of any lines, of any negative emotions—just pure bliss, and contentment. He leaned in, pressed his lips against his forehead, and let it stay there, pressed lightly until sleep took him as well.

 

 

(And Jimin wouldn’t know—not yet, anyway—that Yoongi had woken up in the middle of the night, heart feeling completely full, his camera in his hand as he snapped photos of Jimin, his afterglow combined with his natural beauty making him look absolutely breathtaking in the photos.

 

But, Yoongi thought, they still didn’t give justice to the actual person).

 

 

 

 

Yoongi was sitting on a chair three tables away from Jimin’s and Taehyung’s. He watched with barely concealed amusement as Jimin glared menacingly at his usual chair, Taehyung seemingly forcing him to just sit down. Jimin shook his head, opening his mouth to say something back when he caught Yoongi looking at him from across the room. In an instant, his cheeks turned red, and he huffed indignantly before carefully sitting down. Yoongi only felt a little bad when Jimin winced.

 

“Ah, I’ll miss this place,” Namjoon suddenly whined from across him, and Yoongi looked at him in response, an eyebrow cocked up.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Well, I love the sun here, and the people are so nice. I don’t want to leave yet.” He sighed deeply, sprawling his long arms all over the table and making Seokjin roll his eyes at his antics.

 

Cold dread settled in the pit of Yoongi’s stomach, his throat going dry as he looked from Namjoon to Seokjin. “Uh,” he muttered, catching his friends’ attentions, “w-when are we leaving again?”

 

Seokjin gave him a funny look, his gaze flitting to Jimin for a brief moment. A flash of understanding and pity crossed his eyes, and even without saying it out loud, Yoongi could clearly hear Seokjin telling him, “ I told you not to do something you’ll regret ”, but Seokjin shrugged his shoulders, sipping from his coffee casually, instead. “It’s printed on our plane tickets—haven’t you checked?”

 

“I—I kept it away, d-didn’t want to get reminded of Korea,” Yoongi explained weakly, his heart twinging in pain when he heard Jimin laugh loudly at something Taehyung had said.

 

“...Yoongi, we’re leaving in two weeks.”

 

Yoongi’s little bubble of fantasy was popped again, just like that. He nodded dumbly, his hand gripping his coffee mug too tightly. When Jimin giggled from somewhere to his left, he couldn’t even bring himself to look.

 

 

 

 

“Is that a...picnic mat…?”

 

Jimin nodded excitedly from where he sat, clapping his hands and giggling cutely when Yoongi scrunched his nose in mock distaste. There was a big beach umbrella standing near the corner of their mat, so Yoongi didn’t necessarily have to worry about the sun. He sat down, careful not to tip the little picnic basket that was sitting near Jimin, but Jimin himself seemed to find his care ridiculous, because he reached up and pulled Yoongi down recklessly, Yoongi stumbling over and barely managing to catch himself.

 

“Sit down, grandpa, I’m starving,” Jimin complained, sidling closer to Yoongi, their thighs pressing together, before he reached out for the basket to pull it closer to them. He opened the lid excitedly as he hummed under his breath, reaching in and pulling out something wrapped in paper. “Here,” he offered it to Yoongi, a shy smile blossoming on his face, “it’s waffle. Like on our breakfast dates!”

 

He smiled toothily at Yoongi, and Yoongi laughed, completely enamored by the younger boy. He leaned over, catching Jimin’s lips in a kiss that left the younger boy a little dazed. Jimin sighed happily, before shaking his head and stopping himself from making a completely lovestruck expression. He reached inside for his own waffle, and they proceeded to eat breakfast in the company of each other, Jimin occasionally bumping their feet together and laughing at Yoongi’s complaints of his toes being too fucking cold.

 

Even when the food ran out, they stayed under the shade of the umbrella, laughing when the sun finally changed direction and the umbrella was tilted in the wrong angle. They got up, giggling loudly as they tried to keep the sun’s rays from touching them. Jimin eventually ended up in the water again, splashing Yoongi and eliciting a sputtered curse from him. For once, Yoongi let go, jumping into the water and splashing Jimin without  a care in the world. Yoongi hadn’t felt unadulterated happiness in a long time.

 

When he got tired, he went back to their mat, sitting down and letting the warm summer breeze dry his clothes, his skin, his hair. Jimin was on another starfish and seashell hunt, walking all along the shore and suddenly crouching when he seemed to have discovered something (which was usually just a seaweed, making Jimin pout and throw it away in a hissy fit). When he did find a starfish or a seashell, he’d keep on crouching in the water, looking so incredibly small and fragile that Yoongi’s heart always hurt just looking at him. He’d smile brightly, calling Yoongi and showing whatever he found, always ending his questions with, “isn’t it pretty, hyung ”, to which, yeah, Yoongi thought, eyes trained on Jimin and Jimin only, definitely pretty.

 

 

 

 

Yoongi grumbled loudly as Jimin dragged him to the cliff—to their secret place, Jimin had said, and Yoongi wouldn’t admit it, but the transition from Jimin’s secret place to their secret place made a thousand fucking butterflies riot intensely in his stomach—but nonetheless, he still grumbled, eyeing the thick blankets rolled tightly in the little bag Jimin had hitched on his shoulder.

 

“Why are you dragging me out here again when we could be cuddling in my bed?” Yoongi asked for the umpteenth time, sounding even more sullen than the last time he asked.

 

“Because,” Jimin dragged the word out, rolling his eyes as he glanced back at Yoongi, “sleeping under the stars seems like such a romantic idea—and you’re still here! So, I want to try it.”

 

“We’ll get eaten by wild animals and weird disease-carrying insects, you mark my words, kid,” Yoongi grumbled back, lacing their fingers together as they neared the clearing, but he’s not that annoyed, especially when Jimin smiled shyly at him when he rubbed his thumb across the boy’s skin.

 

“Don’t be such a party pooper, Yoongi-hyung—and you fucked this kid, what does that say about you,” Jimin teased, laughing when Yoongi could only grumble in fake annoyance.

 

Truth be told, Yoongi would take whatever time he could get with Jimin. If he had to sleep naked on this fucking cliff, then so be it—right at that moment, with his departure back to Korea looming close, every second with Jimin was worth fighting for.

 

Jimin laughed airily when they reached their usual spot in the clearing. He let go of Yoongi’s hand, running forward and kneeling down as he rummaged in his little bag. Yoongi stood back, watching with fondness as Jimin struggled to pull out a blanket carefully. Jimin had always had a gentle side, choosing to be as tender as possible with anything he laid his hands on. He watched as the younger boy rolled out a thick blanket, not a picnic mat, but thick enough to be a thin mattress. Jimin pulled out another blanket, this one thinner and definitely serving the purpose of keeping the cold away. He kicked off his sandals before he crawled on the thin mattress, settling himself down on one side. He pulled his bag closer to himself before patting the other side of their mat as he looked at Yoongi expectantly.

 

“Well? Come on, hyung, humor your baby boy, please,” he whined, fluttering his eyelashes obnoxiously. Yoongi snorted before waving a hand, already walking closer.

 

“Alright, alright, calm down, kid.”

 

He sat down on the mattress, finding it actually comfortable, despite the cliff being hard and rocky as fuck. He took off his camera from around his neck, setting it down next to him as he lied down on his back, hands under his head, and, well—okay, he had to admit, there was something romantic about the whole thing. The stars blinked down at them prettily, the moon painting everything in a soft, pale yellow glow.

 

Jimin shifted onto his stomach next to him, face lit up with happiness. He crawled closer to Yoongi until he could rest his arms on his chest, chin propped up on his arms. He smiled down at Yoongi dopily, cheeks flushed like always. “Isn’t it pretty, hyung?”

 

Yoongi hummed, reaching up and running his hand through Jimin’s soft orange locks. He could see his natural hair already visible, and he smiled fondly at him. “Your roots are showing.”

 

“Hm, dyeing it back to orange is so much hassle,” he whined, puffing his cheeks in irritation and blowing his fringe up out of his eyes, “I’m thinking of going back to black. What do you think?”

 

“Well, you’re prettier than the stars here, so I’m sure you’ll look as gorgeous as always, beautiful,” Yoongi grinned at him, laughing when Jimin whined at how stupid and sappy he was being.

 

They remained that way for a while, Jimin on top of him and rambling about everyday things. Yoongi just listened, humming as he played with Jimin’s hair, occasionally saying something when Jimin prompted him to, but most of the time just smiling at how beautiful and kind Jimin was, at how enthusiastic he was about the smallest mundane things, at how pure and selfless he always seemed to be.

 

He knows that to others, what they have might seem shallow—a whirlwind summer romance, spurred by lust at first, but seeing something else amidst the lust and the awkward hello s, and suddenly falling far too quickly in the days to come. To others, relationships take time to start, love takes time, all that crap—but to Yoongi, it wasn’t so, not with Jimin.

 

Love can happen to anyone at anytime in any place.

 

“—right?”

 

Yoongi shook himself out of his thoughts, staring back at the expectant expression on Jimin’s face. “Huh—uh, yeah, right.”

 

Jimin looked at him for a second before rolling his eyes, smiling in amusement as he reached forward and flicked Yoongi on the nose. “You weren’t listening, grandpa. You just zoned out. What were you thinking about?”

 

“You, mostly,” Yoongi murmured softly, letting his hand in Jimin’s hair to trail down to his neck. He pressed his fingertips against his skin gently, rubbing circles and smiling at the way Jimin leaned into his touch.

 

“Such a sap,” Jimin murmured back, his eyes fluttering close as he tipped his head forward, closer to Yoongi’s face. He hummed as Yoongi massaged his neck slowly, before closing the distance between them, plump lips closing over Yoongi’s. Yoongi sighed into the kiss, fingers clamping down gently and pulling Jimin closer. The younger boy broke the kiss then, a cheeky but shy smile on his face. “You always taste like coffee, hyung.”

 

“Do I now,” Yoongi mumbled, a little high and dazed on everything that was Jimin. He leaned up on his elbows, tugging Jimin closer to himself, and letting the younger boy drape himself all over him. Jimin smiled, a shy blush blooming on his round cheeks as he shifted on top of Yoongi, their chests pressing together.

 

“Mhm,” Jimin hummed quietly, pressing his face against Yoongi’s neck, his fingers clutching onto Yoongi’s sides, the fabric of his loose shirt bunching in his tight hold. Yoongi wrapped an arm around his waist, about to lean in to press a kiss on Jimin’s temple until Jimin murmured words that made something heavy and bitter shoot through Yoongi’s heart. “I’ll miss you.”

 

“...Jiminnie—”

 

“Aah, I’m sorry,” Jimin said, a little too loudly, his words punctuated by a forced chuckle. He sat up, carefully adjusting himself so that he was straddling Yoongi instead, small hands splayed across Yoongi’s chest. “I shouldn’t be talking about that.”

 

“Jimin, I’m—”

 

“Hyung,” Jimin cut him off, his voice suddenly quiet and so, so lonely it was enough to crush Yoongi’s heart, “can we—can we just pretend? That you won’t leave?”

 

“...Jimin,” Yoongi breathed out a little raggedly, and he realized that it was really all he could say at the time—the name of the boy he had fallen head over heels for in such a short amount of time. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else, couldn’t bring himself to look away from the forced smile on Jimin’s face.

 

“Make me forget,” Jimin whispered, running his hands up Yoongi’s chest, locking his fingers behind his neck, and nosing all along Yoongi’s jawline, “pl ease .”

 

It was in the way that Jimin’s voice broke at the end, the way his breath hitched, the way his lips brushed teasingly against the skin of Yoongi’s neck. It was in the way Jimin tried to hold himself together that Yoongi found the courage to give in, to give Jimin what he yearned for—what they both yearned for, because he couldn’t ever say no to him, couldn’t watch him pretend that he was happy when he was anything but, so if Yoongi had the capability to make him forget, if Jimin said he could, then he will.

 

“I want to ride you, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin whispered almost shyly, lips brushing so softly, so gently against Yoongi’s warm skin, his breath caressing everything in its wake.

 

Yoongi felt his throat go dry, found himself gripping Jimin’s hips just a little too tightly. He nodded his head wordlessly just as Jimin moved his head up to capture his lips in a heated kiss, tongues gliding and sliding wetly against each other. Jimin’s fingers soon found purchase in Yoongi’s hair, tangling in dark locks, tugging at them, and every little sensation, every little touch sent waves of something warm and hot into Yoongi’s veins. When Yoongi broke the kiss to latch his mouth on Jimin’s neck, the younger boy let out a drawn out sigh, his head thrown back to bare as much as skin as possible, his hands still in Yoongi’s hair, tugging him closer, deeper.

 

“Baby,” Yoongi rasped out, lips brushing against Jimin’s skin, hot to the touch. Jimin made a low sound in the back of his throat, something that resembled a grunt, and Yoongi pressed a kiss on his neck. “Is it alright to leave marks…?” It took a moment for Jimin to answer, but he was soon bobbing his head desperately, and it made heat coil tighter in Yoongi’s groin, seeing Jimin so desperate for him. Yoongi kissed his neck one more, wet and openmouthed, before he let his teeth nip gently at the skin, sucking at it gently, making Jimin groan at the sensation.

 

As Yoongi sucked on Jimin’s skin, on the juncture where his neck and shoulder met, Jimin rolled down his hips, a sinful and slow move of his lower torso, his thighs squeezing deliciously around Yoongi’s hips. He felt Jimin’s plush ass pressing against his clothed cock, felt the cleft of it press just right (but not enough) against his hardening cock, and the warmth and heat that rushed all throughout his body made him dizzy for a moment. Jimin must have noticed the stutter in his movement, because after a beat of silence, he rolled his hips again, a fluid, smooth, and firm move which made Yoongi groan against his skin, teeth grazing and biting too hard. Jimin gasped, hips bucking once more at the mixture of pain and pleasure.

 

“Fuck,” Jimin breathed out, fingers tugging back on Yoongi’s hair when he felt him lick a stripe up his neck, “f-fuck , hyung, I-I. K-kiss m—”

 

Yoongi pulled away his face before surging forward and taking Jimin’s plump lips in between his, fingers digging into Jimin’s hips as he kissed the boy on top of him, drinking in his gasps and sighs. Jimin moved his hands from Yoongi’s hair to cup his jaw briefly before planting them on his shoulders, small fingers finding purchase there. He tightened his grip before grinding down on Yoongi, his small body shivering in pleasure as Yoongi’s low groan traveled through his lips, his whole body trembling in anticipation.

 

Only the sounds of their clothes rustling, and the wet sounds of their lips moving heatedly, desperately against each other permeated the air, until Jimin pulled away, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Yoongi grunted in mild annoyance, his own lips tingling and already searching for that distinct taste that Jimin had. He opened his eyes, frowning as he looked at Jimin who parted his lips to whisper, breathily and bordering on whining. “I-I need you, hyung...”

 

Yoongi felt his body heat up at his words. With a shaky gulp, he nodded. “Alright, baby,” Yoongi sat up just a little straighter, pulling Jimin closer to him, their chests pressed flush against each other, his fingers already dancing along the waistband of Jimin’s pastel blue beach shorts, “alright, hyung’s got you.”

 

He made quick work of Jimin’s shorts and boxers, the boy shakily helping him slide the clothes down his thighs and legs. As soon as they were off, Jimin repositioned himself on Yoongi’s lap, pressing one hand against his chest as if to say, ‘ wait ’, while his other hand was already reaching for the bag sitting next to them. Yoongi kept his hands perched on the dip of Jimin’s hipbones, his palm hot against the soft skin. He tried to look at what Jimin was doing, but Yoongi only felt his mouth and throat go dry at the sight of Jimin’s hard cock curving up prettily against Jimin’s soft stomach, all pink and flushed and already leaking precum against the dips of his subtle abs. He was suddenly aware of how uncomfortable and tight his own shorts felt.

 

Jimin finally leaned back, his lips parted as he breathed heavily. In his hand was a small bottle of lube—a new one, by the looks of it. Yoongi felt aroused, to say the least, his cock twitching in his shorts as the idea of Jimin preparing for this hit him. “Uh,” Yoongi managed to say, fingers gripping Jimin’s hips tightly, “new?”

 

Jimin shrugged, a cheeky grin curving his lips up briefly before he pulled his hand from Yoongi’s chest. He flicked the cap open, and Yoongi watched curiously as Jimin lathered the fingers on his right hand generously with the clear liquid. He tossed the bottle carelessly next to his knee, carefully pulling himself up and leaning close. He kissed Yoongi once, sweetly and chastely, his lips lingering for a moment before a gasp escaped his lips.

 

Yoongi pulled away, looking at Jimin’s face before he finally saw the younger boy’s right hand reaching all the way back around himself, his left hand gripping Yoongi’s shoulder firmly for support. “Oh, fuck,” Yoongi breathed out as soon as he realized that Jimin was stretching himself open, fingers and lube squelching soundly in the air between them. His face was pinched into a focused expression, eyes shut tight as short gasps escaped his lips while he moved his fingers in a steady quick rhythm. His thighs trembled as he held himself up, and Yoongi found himself sliding his hands down to grasp them, squeezing every time Jimin moaned his name out.

 

Jimin suddenly stopped, pulling back his hand with a lewd wet sound. Yoongi watched with heavy breaths as he reached for the discarded bottle of lube by his knee. He flicked the cap open, before catching Yoongi’s lips in a deep kiss, tongues sliding wetly, while his free hand shakily trailed down, wet fingers pulling at Yoongi’s waistband impatiently. He tugged them down halfway, just enough for Yoongi’s cock to spring free. Yoongi hissed quietly at the cold air that hit his flushed cock, but he choked on his own breath when Jimin wrapped his lubed hand around it, lubing him up slowly.

 

“I’ll never get used to how big you are, hyung,” Jimin whispered under his breath, his own pupils blown in arousal, tongue darting out as he watched his own hand pumping Yoongi languidly.

 

“Shit, Jimin,” Yoongi rasped out, unable to say anything else as the feeling of Jimin’s thighs squeezing him, and his short fingers rubbing up and down his cock, washed over him in waves of extreme pleasure.

 

Jimin pulled his hand away without warning, and before Yoongi could even complain, Jimin was already standing on his knees, hands on Yoongi’s shoulders as he positioned his pink rim over Yoongi’s cock, standing hard and flushed and glistening with precum and lube. Yoongi’s fingers gripped Jimin tightly, and Jimin threw his head back as he sank down in one fluid motion, fucking himself on Yoongi’s hard cock.

 

Yoongi groaned, hands guiding Jimin as he sank further and further until his ass was pressed against Yoongi’s thighs, Yoongi’s shorts between their skin as Jimin hadn’t fully pulled them down. Jimin kept one hand on Yoongi’s shoulder while the other reached back to grip Yoongi’s thigh for support.

 

“F-fuck , I feel s-so full,” Jimin whispered, lips parted as he tried to catch his breath, his stomach tensing as he clenched his hole around Yoongi, making the older growl lowly under his breath, “hyung, you feel so g-good…”

 

Yoongi didn’t move, still waiting for Jimin to fully adjust. The younger boy experimentally moved his hips in a small tight circle, and a high pitched moan escaped his lips. Yoongi cursed under his breath, before reaching one hand forward, fingers cupping around the back of Jimin’s neck. He pulled him closer, and Jimin was completely pliant, leaning forward until their foreheads were pressed together, his hands resting against Yoongi’s chest. Before Yoongi could say anything, Jimin suddenly pulled himself up before slamming down on Yoongi, a choked out grunt leaving Yoongi’s lips.

 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Yoongi growled, hands finding Jimin’s hips again and helping him go up before sliding back down, Jimin’s thighs quivering along his sides, “you’re so tight and hot, shit…”

 

Jimin moaned at his words, face scrunched up in pleasure as he started a steady rhythm of fucking himself on Yoongi’s cock. His stomach tensed and rippled with every slide, lips parting open to release broken breathy moans of Yoongi’s name, short fingers curling around Yoongi’s shoulders, his blunt nails painting red trails on pale skin.

 

Yoongi thrusted up suddenly just as Jimin slammed down, and Yoongi almost saw stars as he felt Jimin’s tight heat engulf him completely, Jimin’s hot damp skin slapping deliciously against his balls, against the visible strip of his thighs. Jimin had almost sobbed, curling forward and pressing his forehead against Yoongi’s shoulder. He was slowing down, and Yoongi took it upon himself to do the rest, wrapping an arm around his waist and thrusting into Jimin, fucking him fast and hard. He could hear the way Jimin’s neglected cock slapped against his taut stomach, the way his breath came out in short broken puffs, each one punctuated by Yoongi’s thrusts.

 

“Y-Yoongi-hyung, I-I’m—oh ,” Jimin’s chest pressed against Yoongi’s, sliding up and down each time he bounced on Yoongi’s cock. His lips pressed wetly against Yoongi’s neck, and Yoongi wasn’t sure if Jimin was trying to kiss him, or if he was just having trouble keeping himself quiet with the way Yoongi was fucking hard into him.

 

Yoongi stopped briefly, chuckling breathlessly when Jimin whined in complaint. Yoongi shifted their position, laying Jimin down on the mattress gently before lacing their fingers together. Jimin looked up at him, cheeks flushed and hair fanned out all over the place. Yoongi locked gazes with him before pushing his cock in again, Jimin’s eye fluttering close as waves of pleasure hit him.

 

“Baby, open your eyes,” Yoongi whispered, unrelenting in his thrusts, pistoning his hips hard and fast, “I want you to look at me.”

 

Jimin moaned, nodding his head frantically before his eyelids fluttered open shyly, his eyes glazed over with lust and arousal. Yoongi looked into his eyes as he moved, locking their fingers together as Jimin slid up and down the mattress from the force of Yoongi’s thrusts. When he angled his hips a bit, Jimin suddenly gasped loudly, more broken variations of Yoongi’s name spilling from his pink lips.

 

Yoongi continued hitting that same angle, going faster and harder, the head of his cock hitting a bundle of nerves inside Jimin. He knew they were both close to the edge what with Jimin pulling his legs up and tightening his thighs around Yoongi’s waist. Yoongi let one of Jimin’s hands go, wrapping his long fingers around Jimin’s cock.

 

With one pump, Jimin was screaming as he came, eyes shut tight as his cock twitched from his orgasm, ropes of white painting his stomach. With each twitch of his cock, he clenched around Yoongi tightly, and that was enough to push Yoongi completely over the edge. His hips stuttered in their movements, and with a low growl, he came hard, shooting his cum inside Jimin. He thrusted with each spurt, reveling in the beautiful way Jimin moaned.

 

Jimin’s thighs loosened around Yoongi, chest heaving up and down as they basked in post-orgasmic bliss. Yoongi was still inside Jimin, his cock already going soft with each minute that passed.

 

“Hyung,” Jimin whispered, raising his arms shakily and looping them around Yoongi’s neck, his eyes still closed as he lay pliant underneath Yoongi, “hyung, I love you…”

 

Everything was suddenly quiet. Yoongi couldn’t hear the ocean, couldn’t hear the breeze whispering in the air. All he could hear was Jimin’s heavy breathing, his words repeating over and over in his mind. Jimin had his eyes closed, he looked half-asleep, but when his eyelashes fluttered open, searching Yoongi’s face for something, Yoongi leaned forward, kissing Jimin’s lips sweetly, chastely.

 

“I love you, too, Jiminnie,” he whispered.

 

He felt lightheaded, he felt happy. His heart felt like it was going to burst, his chest filling up with some kind of warmth that Yoongi wasn’t quite sure what to do with. It might have been the sex, it might have been Jimin, but somehow, Yoongi knew that it wasn’t just about the sex.

 

It was, and always will be, about Jimin.

 

 

 

 

Yoongi woke up to Jimin lying on top of him. The boy was knocked out cold, snoring softly and drooling as he held on to Yoongi like a koala, limbs wrapped tightly around him. It was still early out, the sun barely up in the sky and on most occasions, Yoongi would have grumbled and complained about having woken up early, but this time he let himself smile, wrapping one arm around Jimin’s slim waist, pressing himself closer to the boy despite having virtually no space or distance left between their bodies.

 

Jimin stirred in his sleep, nose scrunching and tongue darting out to lick, rather cutely, at his lower lip before he sighed and snuggled closer, cheek smushed against Yoongi’s chest. His small hand rested near his face, curled lightly into a fist, his fingers gripping the low collar of Yoongi’s shirt. When Yoongi tried to move, he soon discovered that Jimin had tangled their legs together overnight, the cold soles of his feet brushing against Yoongi’s leg occasionally.

 

Jimin groaned again, snuggling closer. “Hyung, stop moving…”

 

“Sorry, sweet cheeks,” Yoongi whispered, leaning down to press a kiss on the top of Jimin’s head. He felt Jimin tense up in his hold, before the boy shifted, tilting his head up and looking at Yoongi sleepily, a soft dreamy smile on his face as he rested his chin on Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi cocked an eyebrow at him. “What.”

 

“You called me sweet cheeks,” he whispered, voice raspy from sleep and from moaning too loudly the previous night. He still had a glow to him, his cheeks flushed, skin looking so healthy and soft. “I like it.”

 

“Get used to it, angel face,” Yoongi said, sticking his tongue out teasingly when Jimin whined in mild embarrassment, head dipping down and face pressing against Yoongi’s chest once more in an attempt to hide himself. Yoongi laughed as Jimin whined loudly, stifling his laughter when Jimin hit his chest weakly with a curled fist. He leaned his head down, pressing his lips against the top of Jimin’s head. “Jiminnie?”

 

Jimin only grumbled in response, but eventually lifted his head up, peeking at Yoongi with flushed cheeks and a prominent pout on his lips, eyebrows pinched in slight embarrassment. “What.”

 

“Let’s go on a date.”

 

Jimin’s pout uncurled, lips falling open as an even deeper shade of red blossomed on the soft apples of his round cheeks. It amazed Yoongi how quickly Jimin’s face brightened, a face splitting smile blooming on his face and sending an imaginary punch to Yoongi’s gut, rendering him breathless and completely, utterly in love. He felt his mouth go dry, only managing a quick lick at his lips before he moved his hand around Jimin’s waist, running it up and down along Jimin’s warm skin and making the younger boy giggle sweetly into the crook of his neck.

 

“Okay, hyung, let’s go on a date,” Jimin said softly, the smile never leaving his face even as he leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss on Yoongi’s lips, “let’s go back to the resort first—I, uhm, I’m still dirty…”

 

Yoongi cocked an eyebrow at him, aware that they did sleep outside (on their cliff), but they’d used a blanket to cover themselves the night prior. Yoongi was about to ask exactly how Jimin got dirty when suddenly, like a film reel out of nowhere, their activity the previous night came rushing back into his memories, specific moments blaring loud and clear in Yoongi’s head. He felt his own cheeks heat up, and he cleared his throat before nodding his head jerkily.

 

“Y-yeah, of course, baby,” he mumbled, missing the completely fond look on Jimin’s face.

 

 

 

 

Yoongi was at the lobby fiddling with his phone while he waited for Jimin to get ready.

 

It had been an amusing and funny experience when they got back to the resort, Jimin shushing Yoongi loudly as they traversed the halls quietly, his small hand gripping Yoongi’s like he was going to run off and leave Jimin. He was hiding from Taehyung, he said, who was sure to tease Jimin to hell and back once he found out that neither of them slept in their respective rooms the previous night (and instead had fucked under the stars, as worded eloquently by Yoongi himself, eliciting an embarrassed squeak from the younger boy). It was safe to say that Jimin’s attempts had gone unsuccessful because as soon as he entered his own room, Taehyung was already lounging on his bed, a shit-eating grin on his face when his gaze fell on Jimin’s and Yoongi’s joined hands. (Rather dramatically, Jimin had pushed Yoongi out of his room in an attempt to save at least one of them).

 

The sound of footsteps and a breathy giggle pulled Yoongi out of his thoughts and away from his phone, and even without looking he already knew who it was. He sat up straight, pocketing his phone and looking up.

 

“Yoongi-hyung, sorry it took me a while!” Jimin was practically skidding across the dark wooden floors of the lobby, his hair windswept. His small body was swimming in an oversized grey sweater, legs clad in tight fitting black pants that made Yoongi’s mouth water (a lot). Jimin stopped short in front of him, leaning down and pecking Yoongi’s cheek sweetly before straightening up and running a hand through his hair. “Taehyung kept on asking questions.”

 

“Did you answer them?” Yoongi asked, a teasing smile on his face as he stood up and reached forward. He laced their fingers together before gently tugging him towards the main door. He laughed as Jimin hunched in on himself slightly, seemingly embarrassed.

 

“O-of course not! The questions were very...personal,” Jimin muttered simply, cheeks burning up as he glanced out of the door and pretended not to notice the teasing smirk still on Yoongi’s face. He tugged on his hand, pouting as they headed to the cabs waiting by the hotel. “Stop teasing me. You’re just as bad as Tae.”

 

“Sorry, baby,” Yoongi cooed, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek, “you’re just so cute when you’re embarrassed, we really can’t help it.” Jimin huffed in mock irritation, but Yoongi could see the way he tried to hold back a smile. Yoongi smiled fondly, squeezing their joined hands before gesturing at the cabs. “So, where do you want to go? I asked you out, but I realized I don’t know much about this town, so—mind leading the way, sunshine?”

 

Jimin grinned toothily at him, nodding his head happily. He tugged Yoongi forward, excitedly approaching one cab. He pushed the both of them into the backseat, practically bouncing on his seat as he rattled off something in English to the driver. He sat back as the cab pulled off, and Yoongi found himself not even minding where they were going. As long as he was with Jimin, he really didn’t mind where they hung out.

 

 

(It had been a beautiful day.

 

Jimin had been so enthusiastic in showing off to Yoongi the town that had taken him and his mother in when they moved away from Korea after his father left them for another woman. The story made Jimin frown a bit, and even before Yoongi could try and soothe him, Jimin was already shaking his head, a bright honest smile on his face as he waved away Yoongi’s worry. The town was beautiful—a sunny, gorgeous place that fit Jimin perfectly, and Yoongi could see how Jimin had fallen in love with it, how it became his sanctuary, his home.

 

When they sat down for ice cream with Jimin giggling at how Yoongi looked funny with chocolate smeared all over his upper lip, Yoongi’s eyes fell on the calendar resting on the ice cream shop’s counter, and just like that, he was reminded that he was leaving—very soon, too. Jimin seemed to have noticed the drop in his mood, because the boy was soon glancing at the same direction as he was.

 

Jimin’s gentle voice was the one that pulled him away from his own thoughts, soft words laced with an intense amount of sadness that the younger boy was trying to conceal with sweet smiles and warm touches. “Everyone leaves eventually, Yoongi-hyung. It’s okay—I’m okay. I-I’m used to it, I guess.”

 

And Yoongi didn’t have the heart to say anything else. He could only move his seat closer to Jimin’s until their thighs were touching, their joined hands resting on his knee. He squeezed Jimin’s hand, and Jimin hummed under his breath, before shaking his head subtly and beaming at Yoongi, lips already parting as he dived into another story about himself and Taehyung).

 

 

 

 

After their date, Yoongi barely saw Jimin. Their meetings had been reduced to waves from across rooms, and rushed chaste kisses in the hallways. Whenever Yoongi tried to pull Jimin somewhere, Jimin always had excuses. Errands, job substitutions—but Yoongi wasn’t stupid. He knew Jimin was avoiding him, could see it in the way his eyebrows were always pinched into an expression of confusion, of sadness. He could see it in the way the corners of his lips were downturned whenever he so much as saw Yoongi. It hurt, but Yoongi understood why he was doing it—Yoongi wasn’t stupid.

 

Days go by, and Yoongi’s vacation was nearing its end. He hadn’t seen Jimin so much as talked or touched him, and it scared Yoongi that he was already so attached, could feel his heart ache at Jimin’s absence. He looked through his camera, smiling and feeling a little bitter when all he could see was Jimin—his smile, his hands, his lips, his beautiful eyes.

 

In under eighty five days, Jimin had successfully stolen Yoongi’s heart, and Yoongi wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

 

 

 

 

“Do you have everything already? The cab’s waiting for us, our flight’s in two hours, Yoongi, we need to go now.”

 

Yoongi sat on the edge of his bed, mind devoid of any thoughts. He nodded his head slowly, eyes trained on his luggage sitting between his feet innocently. He furrowed his eyebrows, fists clenching when all he could hear were the waves crashing outside. The sun had just barely risen, its rays touching everything softly as if to wake them up, but Yoongi honestly felt like death itself. He hadn’t a good night’s rest in over a week, and he knew why.

 

Seokjin sat down next to him, placing a warm hand on the small of his back and rubbing circles through his shirt. “Yoongi. Namjoon and I will wait for you at the lobby, alright? Ten minutes until the cab leaves.”

 

Yoongi nodded numbly, clasping his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees.

 

As soon as Seokjin left, he opened his duffel bag. He stared at the thick white envelope resting above his things, and without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed it before making his way out of his room.

 

 

(All the anger and resentment Taehyung felt towards this man with the faded mint hair and pale skin seeped out of his body as soon his gaze fell on him. He looked just as bad as Jimin did—if not worse. He wasn’t exaggerating, but there were soft dark circles under his eyes, and the brightness he had seen in his brown eyes once were gone. The Yoongi-hyung Taehyung once saw in the hotel café barely even resembled the man standing in front of him.

 

“Kim Taehyung, right?” He started, voice raspy and tired. Taehyung nodded after a beat of silence. He crossed his arms over his chest, adamant on keeping his lips pursed in a thin line. Yoongi exhaled tiredly, and only then did Taehyung notice the envelope in his hand. “I, uh. Ji—where is he?”

 

“I don’t have to tell you.” Taehyung leaned on the counter, glad that the beach bar was devoid of any customers at the moment.

 

“...I suppose so, yes. I deserve that. Will you just do me a favor, then?” He shifted in his spot, fingers tight around the envelope but still holding it carefully like one might a child.

 

“Do you think I’ll agree?” Taehyung supposed he was being too harsh, but images of Jimin crying himself to sleep and seeking Taehyung for cuddles during the past week was enough to make him feel just a little bit more angry at Yoongi. He was going to leave, he didn’t understand why Yoongi had to make Jimin fall for him. He wasn’t going to stay—just like Jimin’s dad, he was going to leave.

 

“Please give this to him,” Yoongi slid the envelope across the counter, his whole being suddenly seeming smaller than ever, “it’s for him.”

 

Taehyung just eyed the envelope. A white envelope, obviously thick with some kind of paper. Letters, maybe? He didn’t move to get it, just stared at it with contempt before tearing his gaze away from it and regarding Yoongi coolly. “Have a safe flight back to Korea, sir.”

 

Yoongi frowned, but nodded his head anyway. It was obvious in his body language that he understood when he was wanted, and when he wasn’t. He turned around, and Taehyung watched his retreating back, hands stuffed into his pocket and shoulders hunched in on himself. He looked lonely, and for a brief moment, Taehyung felt guilt tug at his heart.

 

A sob tore him away from his thoughts, and without hesitating, Taehyung kneeled down behind the counter, long arms wrapping around a set of narrow shoulders, hand cupping the back of a boy’s head, orange hair soft to the touch. Jimin sobbed quietly into his shoulders, small hands fisting Taehyung’s shirt for support. It was all Taehyung could do for his best friend, for the person he considered his brother, his soulmate. It was all he could do, and it saddened him immensely that trying to hold him together was all he could do while he watched the man who took Jimin’s heart walk away).

 

 

(“Are you ready to go?” Seokjin asked quietly, hand resting on the cab’s door as Yoongi made his way to them, luggage toted behind him.

 

Yoongi looked at him, staring numbly for two seconds before nodding his head. “Yeah, let’s go.”

 

“Are you sure you didn’t leave anything? We’re not coming back here, Yoongi.”

 

“Yeah,” I left something important, “I didn’t leave anything. Let’s go.”)

 

 

 

 

Their resort wasn’t famous or big by any means, but they always had their fair share of guests all year round. This time, however, seemed to be another one of their dead weeks, because apart from some elderly couples and a pair of lone writers seeking solitude, the whole place was as quiet as a grave—and it didn’t help Jimin and his broken heart.

 

Taehyung had told him not to do it, had told him so many times not to give in, but a week of holding back and of crying himself to sleep with the unopened envelope in his hands was torture enough for him. Despite Taehyung’s advice and empty threats, Jimin found himself in Yoongi’s old room—the sheets unchanged, the pillows askew, the room untouched. Jimin had thrown a rather childish fit when Taehyung asked housekeeping to clean it, but he supposed Taehyung finally felt bad for him, and asked that the cleanup be postponed until further notice. Jimin had thanked him, then, and that was a week prior. This was the first time he was stepping into Yoongi’s room since he left—and it hurt. A lot.

 

They barely hung out in the room, Jimin opting to drag Yoongi everywhere he could, show him the town that had taken care of him, show him the cliff that had become his sanctuary—their secret place—but they’d spent moments in this very room, during the dead hours of the night whenever they came back from their little dates. Sweet kisses were exchanged, short hushed conversations that ranged from anything under the sky. Fleeting touches under the doorway, warm cuddles under the sheets. It was too much, but Jimin still let himself walk into the quiet room, the door clicking shut behind him.

 

He made a beeline for the bed, envelope in his hand. It took him five seconds before he let himself plop down on the bed gently, crawling up until he could rest his head on the pillow. He pressed his face against it, took a deep breath in, and choked out a sob when he could smell Yoongi’s faint scent, soothing and manly but still having that touch of silent strength that Yoongi had.

 

Jimin let himself cry into the pillow, curling into himself as he held the envelope against his chest, silently fearing that he was crumpling whatever it was inside, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold back the tears and pain he felt.

 

“I-I,” he choked out quietly into the room, aware that his only audience was the fake cactus on the bedside table, “I didn’t e-even say g-goodbye…I-I—Y-Yoongi-hyung…”

 

He doesn’t know how long he cried, how long he stayed curled up on the bed Yoongi once slept in, and he wasn’t even sure when he fell asleep, but one moment he was crying in the afternoon, and the next he was rubbing his puffy eyes with his knuckles, the moon already high up in the sky outside. He sat up groggily, feeling like complete shit at how puffy and tired his face felt, at how abused and swollen his eyes must be. The room was cloaked in darkness, only the soft rays of the moonlight illuminating part of the bed.

 

He moved to slide off the bed, feeling oddly blank and empty, when his gaze landed on the floor, and right at that moment, his breath left his lungs in one big wave. His eyes widened, lips falling open as his heart thundered madly in his chest. Sometime during his sleep, he must have let go of the envelope, falling off the bed. The content had spilled out—and it was enough to make Jimin’s tears blur his vision again, the warm liquid trailing a hot path down his cheeks.

 

“Y-Yoongi-hyung…” he whispered brokenly, his body seemingly on autopilot as he slid off the bed and knelt down next to the envelope’s content.

 

Photos. They were photos of Jimin himself. Some of them showed his full face, laughing and drenched from seawater. One of them showed him ordering ice cream, another showed him laughing at something Taehyung had said. But most of them showed only parts of Jimin, and each of these shots looked so intimate, so personal—and so, so full of love. The curve of Jimin’s bare shoulder with the stars visible in the background. The soft locks of his orange hair with Yoongi’s hand tangled in it, his touch visibly gentle and reverent. Jimin’s side profile, lips parted as he slept, the soft purple and red of a hickey visible just beneath his jaw. Each shot was taken with great care yet with an obvious touch of hesitancy, like the man behind the camera wanted nothing but to show the world a beautiful thing, but was also reluctant to do so because—

 

Jimin’s eyes fell on a piece of paper amidst the photos. He picked it up gingerly, his hand shaking so much it took him a moment to actually read it, and when he did, he only ended up sobbing harder, missing the man behind the words, the man behind the camera— his Yoongi-hyung.

 

 

I did it, you know? The job thing. The beauty thing. If I submit these, I’d have done a good job. I met the requirements—I found beauty. But, I won’t. I won’t submit these. I’ll lose my job, but I don’t care. This is mine.

You’re mine, Jiminnie, and I’m sorry, but I won’t share you with anyone else.

 

Through tears, Jimin picked up the photos, piling them neatly and slipping them back into the envelope. He pulled it close to his chest as he exhaled deeply, before standing up and leaving the room.

 

 

 

 

He was aware that Seokjin was watching him from across the table, but Yoongi didn’t let it bother him. It was what he had been doing for the past month, anyway—ignoring the pitying gazes and sympathetic touches from his friends. He was grateful, but he didn’t want to be reminded.

 

“Yoongi,” Seokjin started quietly, the older man leaning forward to let his voice reach him. They were in the farthest corner of the university’s library. Yoongi was trying to wing a history paper, Seokjin was fiddling with his phone, and Namjoon was struggling to teach calculus to an equally struggling Hoseok. When he heard Seokjin’s voice, Yoongi only grunted in response, finding himself typing on his keyboard extra hard. “Yoongi,” Seokjin said again, voice firmer yet still gentle.

 

“...what,” Yoongi mumbled, frowning as he pushed his laptop away in a display that made him seem like he was listening. He already knew where this was going, but he loved his friends, he valued their concern for him, so the least he could do—despite them being repetitive and overbearing—was listen.

 

“...I know this is stupid, but are you okay?” Seokjin asked, his voice laced with so much concern that Namjoon and Hoseok was momentarily pulled away from their bickering about numbers.

 

“You’ve asked me this countless times, hyung,” Yoongi said, leaning forward and sighing, “and I’ll answer you the same way I did during those times—I’m not, but I will be. Eventually. I hope.”

 

Seokjin smiled sadly at him, breathing out exasperatedly through his nose. He crossed his arms over the table, that same smile still on his face. “Do you want to talk about him? Talking helps, you know.”

 

“I,” Yoongi started, but stopped himself. He’d never talked about him to his friends. He missed him terribly, but he felt guilty for leaving, for letting Jimin hope. Not talking about him or remembering his smiles and laughter was his own way of punishing himself—he wouldn’t let himself have the luxury of remembering such beautiful things—but Seokjin looked eager to help, even Namjoon and Hoseok, that Yoongi eventually found himself licking his lips and taking a deep breath. A dull ache wrapped around his heart, constricting his lungs, but he pushed on. “He’s beautiful.”

 

Seokjin’s smile grew bigger, his hand moving as he cupped his own face, palm against his chin. “It sucks that we didn’t meet him properly—we’d been so engrossed with that pretty town, Namjoon and I.”

 

Yoongi smiled despite himself, genuinely happy for his friends. “Yeah, I noticed.”

 

Seokjin hummed, chuckling a little under his breath as he carefully tried to coax Yoongi out of his sad shell. Yoongi could tell what he was doing, and usually he’d have been so annoyed at the probing, but he was tired, and he missed Jimin so much. Talking about that summer hurt, but it also made him feel warm, like Jimin was just an arm’s length away from him, his soft tinkling giggles echoing around him.

 

 

 

 

It was almost nine in the evening, and Yoongi was tired as fuck. A month into the semester and they were already getting given so much shit to work on. Add to that the fact that he hadn’t had any proper sleep the past month was taking a toll on him. If it hadn’t been for Hoseok suddenly screeching into his ear about some rapper’s new mixtape, Yoongi would have fallen asleep right where he stood.

 

“Hyung,” Hoseok said, nudging his shoulder lightly as they made their way out of the campus, “you look like you need ten cups of coffee. Or a bed. Yeah, a bed sounds better.”

 

Yoongi groaned under his breath, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder as he nodded. “Thank fuck I have a day off tomorrow, or I might seriously collapse.”

 

They walked quietly out the gate, the lamp posts the only thing illuminating the streets. Hoseok lived in the dorm building on the way to Yoongi’s apartment, and they always walked home together.

 

Right before they rounded the corner, Yoongi’s eyes caught on the coffee shop he frequented. It was still open, the large windows showing the interior clearly. Yoongi wouldn’t have paid any heed to it at the moment or even stopped in his tracks, really, if it hadn’t been for the familiar shade of orange hair contrasting starkly against the black and white design of the café. Beside him, Hoseok had stopped as well, waving a hand in front of his face in an attempt to gain his attention.

 

“Hyung?” Hoseok called out, waving his hand again, but Yoongi only swatted him away gently, eyebrows furrowed as he squinted through the darkness.

 

The boy with the orange hair had his back turned to Yoongi, but he was gesturing wildly at the new barista manning the register. He was practically bouncing on the spot, seemingly agitated about something. Wrapped around his neck was a fluffy red scarf, his small body swimming in a grey coat. Yoongi tried not to run, tried not to feel excited or giddy, but the boy was too familiar—the way his orange hair seemed so fluffy, so soft, and even without touching, Yoongi’s hands were already tingling with anticipation, he already knew how the soft copper locks would feel between his fingers.

 

Ignoring Hoseok, Yoongi crossed the street carefully, eyes trained on the boy. He quickly entered the shop, the door chimes tinkling loudly amidst the soft jazz music playing. The boy didn’t even turn around, still wildly waving his hands around, but once inside the shop, Yoongi could hear his voice. The familiar gentle pitch, the soft lilt, the warm way his tongue and lips formed around words. Seemingly like magic, Yoongi’s fatigue and the ever present dull ache in his chest faded, giving way to warmth and an overflowing rush of love that rendered him completely speechless.

 

“—just waiting, is that bad? You don’t have to kick me out!” The boy with orange hair reasoned, stomping his foot petulantly.

 

Yoongi watched as the barista looked torn between giving in and doing his job. The barista rubbed the back of his neck before gesturing at the wall clock on the other side of the wall. “Sir, yes, I-I’m aware, but we’re closing, and we can’t, uhm, stay open for you exclusively. I-I’m sorry, sir, I really am—”

 

“B-but I’ve been waiting since yesterday! What if—what if he comes here while I’m not sitting there—” he gestured wildly to the side, seemingly to his table, “—then we’ll have missed each other completely! I flew over oceans just to find him, and the nice girl yesterday told me he always buys coffee here, so I bought coffee just so I could stay but you’re not letting me a-and—”

 

Yoongi chose that moment to step in, sidling up to Jimin—holy shit, it’s really him—and wrapping one arm around his waist gently. He felt Jimin stiffen in his hold, a yelp escaping his lips as he turned to face Yoongi wildly. The barista just watched them, eyes wide in shock. Yoongi cleared his throat, still not looking at Jimin’s face but letting his fingers grip Jimin tighter. “Sorry, my phone broke—I’m the one he’s waiting for. Sorry to have held you up, uh—” he squinted at the barista’s name tag, smiling apologetically once he straightened up again, “—Jungkook-ssi, we’ll take our leave now.”

 

“I-I,” Jimin stammered, suddenly pliant in Yoongi’s hold as Yoongi turned to face him, arm firm around his waist.

 

“Right, baby? Do you have your stuff with you?” Yoongi turned to look at him, a smile on his face as Jimin stared up at him with wide eyes and pink cheeks. “Let’s go home.”

 

Jimin took a moment to recover, but when he did, tears spilled from his eyes as he reached up slowly. He wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s neck, pulling him in for a hug. Yoongi let Jimin cry silently into his neck, arms around his waist as he nodded his head at the barista again. He carefully led Jimin out of the café, the door swinging shut behind them.

 

Outside, Hoseok was standing with a hilariously shocked expression, mouth wide open as he stared incredulously at Yoongi and Jimin. Yoongi ignored his weak splutters, instead focusing on the boy in his arms who had finally gone quiet. Jimin was still hugging him tight, afraid of letting go. He could feel his warm breath fanning against his neck.

 

“Min Yoongi,” Jimin whispered, voice thick from crying. He pulled away slowly, eyes shining with tears and face blotchy from the cold, from crying, from everything—but to Yoongi, he still looked just as beautiful as he did when he laughed that first time Yoongi saw him in the water. “I missed you so much.”

 

Yoongi moved one of his hands, cupping Jimin’s face gently. He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together and breathing in Jimin’s scent. “I missed you too, kid.”

 

Jimin let out a sound that was a mix between a sob and a laugh as he slid his arms from Yoongi’s neck, letting his small hands rest on the junctions where Yoongi’s neck and shoulders met. “I’m not kid , I’m Park Jimin,” he whispered, laughing breathlessly when Yoongi smiled at him, “I told you to remember my name.”

 

Yoongi chuckled before closing the distance between them, tilting his head to the side so that he could kiss Jimin deeper, taste him, get lost in the bashful way Jimin moved his tongue against his, completely give himself to Jimin. He could feel Jimin’s fingers grip tighter onto him, feel the younger boy press their chests together, and Yoongi smiled into the kiss, pulling away with a wet sound and reveling in the way Jimin’s eyelashes fluttered open so slowly, his cheeks redder than before.

 

“I know your name, kid,” Yoongi mumbled, laughing when Jimin rolled his eyes affectionately, a shy smile on his face. Yoongi leaned in again, pecking Jimin’s lips once, twice, thrice, before cupping his cheeks tenderly. “How could I ever forget the name of the man I love?”

 

Jimin’s breath audibly hitched, and Yoongi was quick to wipe away the tears threatening to fall from his face. With a bright smile that bunched up his cheeks and pushed up his eyes into those adorable crescents that Yoongi loved, Jimin leaned into his touch. “I love you, too, Min Yoongi,” he whispered, afraid of breaking their little bubble. He glanced away shyly for a brief moment before his gaze locked with Yoongi’s again. “The photos were beautiful, by the way.”

 

Yoongi smiled, pulling Jimin in for a hug and ignoring the way Hoseok let out a giddy screech. Belatedly, he realized that his friend had his phone up, filming him and Jimin shamelessly. He didn’t care, though, not when Jimin was in his arms again, warm and happy and loved. “Yeah, well, I had a beautiful subject to work with.”

 

“Did you now,” Jimin wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist, giggling when Yoongi swayed them gently on the spot.

 

“Yup,” Yoongi popped his letter P, pulling away and lacing their fingers together. Jimin smiled shyly. “Give my regards to a certain Park Jimin, yeah?”

 

Jimin blinked at him before laughing happily, hand going up to cover his mouth. He nodded his head, before leaning and kissing Yoongi on the lips, a simple long press of their lips. “Park Jimin says thank you , Min Yoongi.”

 

 

 

 

“So—you’ve met Seokjin-hyung and Namjoon. Or, well, seen them, more like. That asshole—” Yoongi gestured to Hoseok who was practically bouncing in his seat like an overexcited puppy, “—is Hoseok. Try not to give him attention, that’s what we do.”

 

Jimin laughed into his hands, seated comfortably in the couch in Yoongi and Namjoon’s shared apartment. His eyes were bright and alert, twinkling with an obvious amount of happiness that made Yoongi’s heart clench and his stomach fill with a shit ton of butterflies. He nudged their shoulders together, smiling at him before nodding his head at the others. “I’m Park Jimin, it’s nice to meet all of you! I’m Yoongi-hyung’s bo—b-boyfriend...”

 

Yoongi smiled widely at that, and Seokjin quickly noticed. Before Yoongi could even beg the older man to spare him, Seokjin was already leaning forward, a teasing smirk on his face. “Oh, Jimin-ah, did you know? Yoongi’s had flings here and there, but you’re the only one he’s ever introduced to us—I feel like a father meeting his son-in-law.”

 

Jimin blinked before a deep shade of pink spread across his face, his neck, and to the tips of his ears. He cupped his face in response, glancing down at his lap intently. Yoongi could feel his own face heat up, and after sending a weak glare at his friends who were enjoying his and Jimin’s embarrassment too much, he gently locked fingers with Jimin before pulling him to his room. Jimin followed him quietly, nodding his head at Seokjin and the others just as Yoongi pulled the door close behind them.

 

Once it was shut, Yoongi walked to his bed and sat on the edge, running his free hand down his face and tugging Jimin closer. “Sorry about my friends—they’re idiots.”

 

Jimin giggled sweetly before walking closer, putting himself between Yoongi’s legs and pulling his hand free. He pushed his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, smiling down at him happily. “I like them.”

 

Yoongi snorted, closing his eyes as he let himself get lost in the way Jimin’s fingers gently massaged his scalp. “That makes one of us, baby.”

 

“Is it true?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“That I’m the first one you’ve ever introduced to them.”

 

Yoongi opened his eyes, looking at Jimin’s expectant expression. He was smiling softly, as if already knowing the answer, but Yoongi humored him. He wrapped his arms around Jimin’s waist, pulling him close and pressing his face against his stomach. When Jimin giggled, he could feel the way it rumbled in the younger’s body. “Yeah, it’s true. You’re the first one,” Yoongi mumbled, feeling Jimin hum in response, “and I want you to be the only one.”

 

Jimin’s fingers stopped carding through his hair. Yoongi looked up, smiling when Jimin cupped his face and leaned down, their noses almost touching. “Let’s make it happen?”

 

Yoongi thought back to his summer, how he’d met Jimin, the boy from across the ocean, and how the same boy was in his arms right now, how they were both in Korea now—together—in Yoongi’s room, tangled in each other’s limbs, high on their love for each other. He smiled, gummy and toothy and one of Jimin’s favorite things in the world, before he surged up and claimed Jimin’s lips in between his own.


“We’re already making it happen.”

 

 

☾ ☼