The air is sticky and humid as Yoongi’s red pick-up truck (officially christened Nancy by Namjoon ever since he rolled up to school last Winter with the infamous rust bucket) speeds down the long, windy road, Elvis blaring out through the truck’s old battered radio set as he takes a left, one hand on the wheel while the other hangs out the window. The Summer temperatures have always been too hot in Sycamore; too hot for Yoongi anyway--but it’s the only place he can find peace and quiet to sketch and paint to his heart’s desire.
Of course, like she does every year before he leaves, his mom had insisted that Lefou would drive him to Sycamore, but the thoughts of driving through such a small town with a chauffeured limousine are enough to give him nightmares for days. He’s always hated drawing attention to himself, and flaunting his family’s wealth would only increase the chances of that happening.
It takes him another twenty minutes until he’s greeted by the breathtaking view of the sea, the most beautiful shades of aqua blue, emerald green and deep sapphire. Yoongi loves it; loves it so much that he can already feel his fingers twitching to pick up a paint brush and splatter his inspiration on a blank canvas.
But no, unfortunately, he’ll have to wait, because Aunty Gretchen is probably going to make him sit down and eat a twelve course buffet when she sees his scrawny body enter the lodge. He can already hear her chastising him for not eating enough, despite Yoongi claiming to be quite a hearty eater.
Sooner or later, as Nancy continues to accelerate through the old beach town of Sycamore, Yoongi finds himself pulling up outside the familiar turquoise and white lodge that makes his chest feel warm as it fills with nostalgia.
Memories of his seven and eight-year-old self play back in his mind like a movie being projected on a screen as he remembers Summer days full of vividly coloured swimming trucks, aluminous buckets and spades, and of course, the soft sand between his toes as he buried them into where the tide meets the shore.
It’s no surprise to anyone really, why Yoongi always comes back here for the Summer, despite the complaints of his one and only friend; Kim Namjoon.
“Do you really have to go?” Namjoon had whined as Yoongi tossed a tacky palm tree t-shirt into his suitcase. “Leaving for the whole summer is so shit. What am I going to do without you?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Namjoon, but unlike me, you have about five hundred other friends you can hang out with this Summer, so I don’t think you’ll miss one being gone for a few weeks.” Yoongi had replied, chucking a bottle of sun cream onto the lanky-boy’s chest.
“But you’re my best friend, and I’m you’re only friend. Don’t you think you can skip visiting a crusty old beach lodge in favour of getting laid? I heard a lot of dudes dig your shy vibe.”
“You disgust me, you imbecile. I’m not interested in shoving my dick up some drunk college freshman's ass for fun."
Yeah, Yoongi can’t possibly imagine missing this; this being the way the sea breeze hits his face as he steps out of Nancy, the calming noises of the palm trees swaying in the mid-Summer wind. Above him a seagull caws, spreading its’ wings as it lands on the roof. Aunty Gretchen is going to have a fit when she sees it. She’s always hated gulls. They always manage to steal the fish from his Uncles’ local fishing boats as they weigh anchor at the docks.
“Seagulls aren’t birds, they’re thieves! Those fish are rightfully ours!” his Aunty would usually complain as they ate out on the terrace.
“Fish have feelings you know.” Yoongi would argue.
“Yoongi, not now.”
Not wanting to spend any more time under the burning sun, Yoongi wipes the sweat from his forehead before quickly making his way over the back of the truck as he pulls open the door and takes out his two heavy suitcases—one full of clothes while the other is full of art supplies.
“Need a hand?”
Yoongi almost jumps ten feet into the air in fright as a cheerful high-pitched voice shatters the quietness around him. The suitcases fall to the ground as he places his hands over his chest, trying to calm his heartbeat down as he whirls around and searches for the source of the voice--which ends up being a young looking boy with crescent-shaped brown eyes and soft blonde waves, obviously dyed, but he wears it as if it’s his natural colour. He’s wearing a striped yellow and navy t-shirt, short sleeved and with a nice collar. Smart looking, yet it gives him a youthful appearance.
“How do you do?” the voice says brightly. “You must be Yoongi, right? I’m Park Jimin.”
And if there’s one thing that Yoongi hates the most in this entire universe, it’s human interaction with people who are one-hundred percent unfamiliar to him. He can already begin to feel his palms beginning to sweat with anxiety as the high-pitched voiced boy—Park Jimin--continues to beam at him.
The whole point of this vacation is to break away from people his own age, or to spend a month or two away from the rush of life that he’s always been so terrified of. And he has a funny feeling that the boy in front of him is a walking contradiction to peace. He looks like a hurricane. A hurricane with moon eyes, soft cheeks and a god-like figure that is being revealed by his tight shorts.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you drop your things.” Jimin babbles on, sweeping down to scoop up the two heavy suitcases on the ground. Yoong’s throat runs dry as he watches the boy pick up his belongings before holding them out for him to take.
Wordlessly, Yoongi snatches them out of Jimin’s hands, avoiding eye contact as he feels his face grow hot (and it definitely has nothing to do with the sun).
“So, you’re staying here for the Summer, aren’t you? Gretchen’s been talking about you for—“
“Jimin!” A voice calls suddenly, cutting the boy off.
Startled, Yoongi’s eyes bulge out of his sockets as they zone in on another boy who’s currently hanging off a ladder, a bucket of turquoise paint in his hand as he gestures wildly at Jimin.
“Stop chatting up Gretchen’s nephew and get your ass back over here! This beach lodge isn’t going to paint itself!” the boy hollers, but his voice doesn’t sound orderly at all. In fact, it looks as if he’s smirking over at them.
“Shut your pie-hole, Tae!” Jimin yells backs, cupping his hands and over his mouth to create a louder sound. “I’ve painted about ten times more today than you have all week!”
Awkward and uncomfortable, Yoongi tries to search for an escape route out of this situation, but as it turns out, he doesn’t have to in the end, because before he knows it, Jimin is turning back towards him and saying “I better get back to it. I wouldn’t want Gretchen to catch me slacking off. I’ll see you around though!” before darting off in the direction of the boy on the ladder.
Traumatized, Yoongi practically runs into the beach lodge, out of the sun and away from Jimin and his smiley eyes. By the time he’s safely inside, Yoongi feels breathless, his back hitting against the front door as he slides down it ever so slightly. He definitely hopes he won’t be seeing more of Jimin, yet his heart is speeding up at the simple of idea of running into him again. He's not going to deny it; Jimin is gorgeous. From his brown eyes to his strong legs, he's muse material. Something that people like him spend their entire lives searching for.
As he waits for his heart rate to slow down, Yoongi tries to channel his energy into examining his surroundings. Just like the outside of the beach lodge, the inside remains exactly the same as it’s always been. The walls still have the same faded yellow sea shell wallpaper, and the grand mahogany staircase stand in front of him, tall and proud. Pictures of old memories are scattered around the wall, some of Yoongi and his parents, others of his Aunty and him.
The sound of paws scratching against the wooden floor snaps Yoong out of his trance as a large golden retriever bounds into view, tail wagging frantically from left to right as it pounces towards Yoongi, who welcomes the furry friend by getting down onto his knees and holding out his arms.
“Hiya Samwise Gamgee. How’s the best boy been, eh?” he coos as the dog barks happily in reply, licking Yoongi’s cheek as he continues to wag his tail.
“Yoongi? Is that you?”
Yooogi smiles as Aunty Gretchen comes into view, a frilly pink apron tied around her waist and her greying-hair tied back into a messy ponytail.
“Hi Aunty Gretchen,” he says, almost shy as he gets to his feet, her arms immediately wrapping around his waist as she pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. “It’s been a while.”
Samwise Gamgee barks enthusiastically.
“It’s been a year, Yoongi! The lodge always seems emptier every time you leave.” she huffs, squeezing him tighter.
“Ah, Aunty Gretchen, I can’t breathe.” Yoongi wheezes, and woman laughs heartily as she pulls away.
“Probably because there’s not enough fat protecting you, boy! Does my sister not feed you anything at all?” she complains, pinching his side as she picks up his cases, leaving the other one for Samwise Gamgee to pull along in his mouth. She begins to head towards the left wing, most likely towards the kitchen, as she waves at Yoongi to follow.
“C’mon Yoonie. Let’s get you fattened up before the end of Summer!” she sings, and all Yoongi can do is laugh as he follows her, the smell of her famous fired mackerel filling his nostrils. His stomach rumbles excitedly. He’s always loved Aunty Gretchen’s cooking.
The kitchen has always been one of Yoongi’s favourite parts of the lodge. Instead of a simple rectangular room with tiled walls, Aunty Gretchen designed the kitchen like a sun room with log windows and golden paint. It’s warm, and wonderfully decorated. Yoongi could sit and paint the way the sun streams in from the window for hours.
“Taehyung! Stop painting Jungkook and start painting my lodge!” Aunty Gretchen shouts suddenly, giving Yoongi his second shockwave for the day. Curious, his eyes trail over to where his Aunty stands, one hand on her hip as she waves a wooden spoon in the direction of two boys, one of them being the boy who Yoongi had seen previously swinging on the ladder out the front.
“Honestly, if they weren’t doing it for free, I’d have fired them a long time ago.” Aunty Gretchen grumbles as the brown haired boy named Taehyung waves cheekily through the window at him.
“Who are they?” Yoongi asks, tilting his head to the side as he watches the two boys skip off, hand in hand. “One of them actually greeted me when I arrived.” His mind flashes back to Jimin suddenly, his cheeks feeling hot as he remembers soft brown eyes and muscular arms.
(And it’s not that Yoongi is into buff guys. On he contrary, Yoongi’s always been into smart looking guys with cute faces. It just so happens that Jimin appears to have both features, and god no, there is no way he’s going to admit that Jimin is low-key hot and totally his type).
“Oh, them? They’re just a group of boys I hired to re-decorate the lodge this Summer,” she says, and although she’d been yelling them a few minutes ago, her face is adorning a fond look. “they’re good kids. Only a year or two younger than you, Yoonie. They’re doing all the work for practically nothing too. All they asked for in return was to stay in the lodge while they work, which they do, most of the time. I let them take the weekends off.”
“I see…” Yoongi mumbles, trailing off as he fidgets with his fingers. He hadn’t been banking on his peaceful vacation being crashed by a bunch of teenagers.
“I was hoping that maybe…you’d try to make friends with them,” Aunty Gretchen says, cautious and slow, as if she’s afraid that Yoongi will go off like a bomb. “They really are good kids, and Jimin’s been very interested in meeting you.”
Yoongi nearly chokes on his own spit. “Aunty Gretchen, I don’t think—“
“Yoonie,” Aunty Gretchen says, tone serious. A tone that Yoongi isn’t used to hearing very often. He holds his tongue as his Aunty walks over to him, putting her hands on his cheeks as she gives him a wistful look. “You come here every year looking lonelier than the last.” she says softly.
“I like being alone.” Yoongi says, yet something in his heart aches as he says it. It’s as if his heart is fighting against his head, trying to tell him something that he’s unsure he wants to know.
“I know you do, hun-bun, but not nobody likes being alone forever. It’s time you start living; not for the sake of it, but for yourself.”
And Yoongi falls silent after that, because although he wants to argue that the less people you associate yourself in life the less likely you’ll end up getting hurt, he knows that it’s deep down, Aunty Gretchen is right. He just doesn’t want to admit it out loud quite yet.
“How about you get unpacked upstairs and I’ll get the barbeque on for dinner, hm? Your Uncle Tom should be coming in from the boats soon.”
By the time Yoongi gets unpacked, then sun is setting and the smell of grilled meat wafts through the window from outside as Aunty Grethen cooks dinner under the orange and red sky. Samwise Gamgee is snoozing on his bed, and everything is calm. Eager to begin a new project, Yoongi has already set up an easel in his room, his paints lined up neatly on a small coffee table beside him. The easel is set in a perfect position, right in front of the large rectangular window that nearly makes up one entire wall of the room.
Personally, Yoongi thinks that his room is the best room in the house. The walls are painted a calming sky blue while the floor is covered in soft wood, and the bed is a king sized one, much bigger than his own back home. But the best part about the room is not the bed, nor the window, but the intricately decorated balcony that faces the sea. A perfect place to paint canvases of sunrises and sunsets, or of ships sailing across the horizon.
It’s what makes his inspiration come to life.
He wants to jump into painting right now, wants to lock himself into his room and paint the sun sinking into the sea as the moon takes its’ place in the sky, but if he starts now, he’ll only be interrupted for dinner.
So with a conflicting agreement with himself, Yoongi decides to head out with Samwise Gamgee to the beach for an evening walk. Taking his sketch pad with him (just in case) he jams a bucket hat onto his head and exits the room, walking down the staircase and out the door into the warm evening sun. It tickles his face as he steps out, coaxing him towards the sea as he heads across the road to where the beach is.
Surprisingly, the beach isn’t as busy as it usually is, probably due to the fact that it’s still early June. Normally vacationing families visit Sycamore during the late weeks of the month, which Yoongi is grateful for. He’s never been a big fan of crowds. It’s just in his nature to avoid, avoid, avoid.
Sometimes Yoongi wishes he wasn’t so shy in life. It holds him back, and he knows that although Namjoon swears that he doesn’t hold him back, well, Yoongi knows that he holds Namjoon back. He could be ten times more popular than he is now if he didn’t pal around with Yoongi.
He thinks back to what Aunt Gretchen said this afternoon, about how he should start living for himself.
But how? Yoong isn’t quite sure what she means by that. He’s living, now isn’t he? Or is he living life half-asleep? It’s a question that he’s never really asked himself. He’s never had the time.
Sighing, Yoongi kicks off his sandals and leaves them by the shoe rack provided at the entrance to the beach as he lets his toes dig into the sand. It’s been way too long since he’s felt the grains of gold dust between his toes. He begins to walk towards the water, excited to feel the cool liquid on his fingers. Although it’s cooled down, he still feel hot. It always takes him a few days to adjust to the heat after being way from it for so long.
“Heads up!” a voice cries out suddenly, and before Yoongi is even aware of what’s happening, a ball comes sailing through the air, colliding with his face as he’s thrown to the ground, head spinning as he squints in pain.
“Taehyung!” another voice screeches, a familiar squeaky voice that has Yoongi panicking, because he isn’t sure if he wants to see the owner of that particular voice again today.
Samwise Gamgee whines as he licks his face, Yoongu squirming at the feeling.
“Oh my god, are you alright? I swear, Tae usually has a better aim than that.” the squeaky voice gushes, as Yoongi tries to get the world stop spinning.
“S’fine. Wasn’t watching where I was going.” Yoongi huffs, but then a pair of small hands reach out and cups his face between them.
And then all at once, Yoongi finds himself staring into the eyes of Jimin.
“Shit, you’re bleeding! I-I think your nose—“
“I said it’s fine.” Yoongi grumbles, a bit harsher than he intended it to be, but honestly, he’s just so embarrassed about everything, he just wants to escape the situation again. He’s unsure why Jimin makes him feel so uncomfortable. Maybe it’s just the fact he’s never seen something that’s as pretty as the scenery he paints.
“Here, let me—“
“No, no, I’ll do it myself.” Yoongi huffs, cutting Jiimin off as he pulls away from the blonde boy’s grip. He stumbles to his feet, leaving Jimin on the sand before he wipes his nose with the back of his hand and power-walks away, not looking back once.
And perhaps, if he had of looked back, he’d have seen Jimin pick up his sketch book with curious eyes before cautiously flicking through it, a smile creeping onto his face as he turns each page.
A few days after the traumatic ball-in-the-face-and-bleeding-nose incident, Yoongi decides to leave his room and venture back out to the beach in need of some more exciting inspiration. Oddly, enough, for the first time ever in all his time coming here, he’s found himself at a loss for what to paint.
Because every time his paintbrush hits the canvas, all he can seem to do is paint a set of pouty lips and a pair of chestnut-brown eyes. Or perhaps lines of a defined collarbone and a tuft of soft blonde hair in the sunlight.
It’s beginning to drive him slightly insane. (Just a tad bit).
And it also doesn’t help, that whenever he decides to take a leap of faith and travel downstairs, Jimin is always around (usually with no shirt on. Much to Yoongi’s slight dismay). Whether he’s cleaning the windows, painting a fence or chugging back a glass of Aunt Gretchen's homemade lemonade; Yoongi just sees him everywhere.
Plus, to add to his sour mood due to lack of inspiration, Yoongi can’t for the life of him find his god damn sketch pad, the one with all his good prompts and colour studies of the sea from last year.
In end, he’s left with no choice. He has to get out. He must return to the sea.
It’s a breezy Tuesday evening when he decides to go to the beach again. Usually, he much prefers going to the beach in the evenings due to the lack of noisy children and because the sunsets in Sycamore are always spectacular. The kind of a spectacular that a picture can never capture.
The tide is in today, which is nice, because it means the dirt of old tyres and plastic bottles are covered by the sea. He sets up his easel by a pile of rocks, near the cliffs that people tend to have picnics on sometimes when the sand begins to bother them by sneaking into their sandwiches. It’s a perfect location; one of Yoongi’s favourites. Picking up his binoculars, Yoongi presses them to his eyes as he begins to search for a vocal point for his painting, a strong main focus that will help him concentrate.
What he doesn’t expect though, is to find a certain Park Jimin and his friends, standing at the edge of one of the cliffs, seemingly egging each other on to jump--to take a chance.
All of them except, Jimin that is, who’s standing at the very edge of cliff, a large smile on his face as he stares down at the waves beneath him.
And oh, he truly is gorgeous.
A form of art in itself. The kind of art that they frame in galleries for people to marvel and cry at because they’re masterpieces. Truly and dearly works that provoke the heart into feeling something.
And then, without saying a word, Jimin turns around spread his arms out, like a bird about to take off for flight, but backwards. Yoongi’s breath catches in his throat as he watches the blonde haired boy close his eyes, letting himself fall backwards as he plunges towards the waves, his friends yelling after him.
On instinct, Yoongi reaches out, knowing very well that it’s not going to do anything at all to stop him from falling, and when he hits the water, he makes a tremendous slash as he disappears beneath the foamy waves.
Stunned, Yoongi wonders if he’ll drown. His feet are itching to run to the nearest coast guard to sail out and save him.
But, like a dolphin jumping up to the surface to get some air, Jimin breaks through the sea with all the grace of a sea creature, eyes fluttering open as his friends let out cheers from above.
And it is in that time and place, that Yoongi questions in the deepest part of his mind if the most beautiful moments in life can be found through a certain Park Jimin.
That night at dinner, Jimin and his friends show up unexpectedly as Yoongi’s halfway through his third serving of chicken curry (courtesy of Aunty Gretchen). Sun kissed with freckles and covered in light tans, they inundate the patio area like bees invading a hive.
“I invited them to join us tonight. Usually they eat out the front on the patio, but I figured you’d like some company that’s your own age.” Aunty Gretchen explains as she gives him a curt smile, accompanied by the ‘don’t-you-dare-think-about-bolting-away’ look.
Begrudgingly, Yoongi stays, half annoyed at his Aunty for tricking him, yet half intrigued that he’s possibly going to get a chance to get an eyeful of the teenagers who’ve been hanging around the lodge.
After a few days of being here, Yoongi can definitely conclude that there are five boys in total, Jimin included. Two of them he knows, the boy with a mop of dark hazel locks is Taehyung—the ladder boy—and the other is called Jungkook—who’s always by Taehyung’s side wreaking havoc.
The other two, Yoongi only recognizes them by their physical appearance. One boy has broad shoulders and a handsome face, while the other boy is lean with a raven-coloured bowl cut. Most of the time Yoongi usually sees broad-shoulders ordering the rest of the guys around, but Yoongi doesn’t think they take him seriously.
“So you’re the infamous Yoongi that Jimin won’t shut up about, eh?”
Yoongi shivers as he wraps his arms around his torso protectively as the raven-coloured bowl cut boy sidles up next to him on the picnic bench, a sly smirk tugging on his lips.
“C-Come again?” Yoongi stammers, nearly choking on the grans of rice in his mouth.
“Damn, he was right. You are cute. If Jimin hadn’t have called dibs on you first, I think I would ha—“
“Hoseok!” a stern voice calls out, and Yoongi shrinks into himself as the broad-shouldered boy marches towards them, a murderous glint in his eyes.
“Get your greasy paws off of him. He’s clearly not interested in you.” the boy scolds, which Hoseok rolls his eyes at before slinking off the bench, scooping his plate off the table swiftly.
“Just getting to know the guy Jimin’s been thirsting after, that’s all.” he sings as he skips away, which only proceeds to make broad-shoulders scowl.
“Honestly, I swear to god, that boy doesn’t have a filter for his mouth or his brain,” he sighs, slipping into the now vacant seat beside Yoongi, who scooches away ever so slightly in fear of such a tall person being near him.
“Surprisingly, Hoseok isn’t actually an ass when you get to know him,” he chirps up cheerfully, stabbing his fork into a piece of chicken before taking a bite. “I’m Seokjin by the way. The oldest of these brats. I’m in Sycamore’s one and only college. Majoring in acting, but I do enjoy doing a bit of culinary arts on the side.”
Yoongi blinks as Seokjin continues to speak at five-hundred miles an hour. He’s never met anyone who talks so much is such a short space of time. Briefly he wonders if Seokjin learns scripts this fast.
“…heard you like to paint too! I’ve never been good with a paint brush myself, but then again, my talent comes in the form of my face so I guess we can’t have it all, can we?”
“Errr…sure?” Yoongi tries, phrasing it more like a question than a statement. At this, Seokjin erupts into laughter, making a blush spread across Yoongi’s face as he busies himself with his water, which ends up being a bad decision because it sloshes all over the front of his t-shirt.
Absolutely mortified, Yoongi prays to the Heavens to allow the ground to open up and swallow him whole; anything to get him out this living nightmare.
“I-I better go and help Aunty Gretchen clean up.” Yoongi stammers, his entire body nearly falling out of the bench as he struggles to wriggle out of the wooden seat.
“Aww, leaving so soon? Taehyung’s been dying to talk to you since—“
“Maybe another time!” Yoongi chokes out, already halfway up the steps of the patio as he wrenches open the sliding door, scuttling inside quickly as he tangles his fingers into his hair, breath shallow as he begs his heart to slow-the-fuck down.
Frustrated that he can’t even have one simple conversation with someone near his own age, Yoongi slams his fist into the wall, cursing immediately after as he reels it back into his chest instantly. He’s never had the strength to do something as dumb as punch a wall. Jesus-fuck, he’s such an idiot sometimes.
Sighing heavily, he trudges into the kitchen, diving under the sink, retrieving a pair of fluorescent pink rubber gloves before popping open the washing-up liquid and turning on the hot water. He plugs the stopper into the basin and waits patiently as the hot liquid fills the sink, humming ‘Hey Soul Sister’ by Train as he squeezes the green goo into the water.
“You’ve got a good taste in music.” a voice suddenly pipes up, and Yoongi yelps as the bottle slips out of his hands and dunks into the basin, splashing soapy water everywhere.
“Sorry! Shit, I didn’t mean to startle you again!” the voice wails. The sound of hurried footsteps fills the kitchen, and before Yoongi can compose himself, the familiar face of Park Jimin comes into view as he sends him an apologetic smile. He’s still all chubby cheeks and half-crescent eyes that’s got Yoongi’s heart racing all over again.
“I just…I’ve been meaning to return something to you.” Yoongi blinks as Jimin holds up his missing sketchpad. “You dropped it the other day on the beach. I tried to tell you, but you were already gone before I could.”
Unsure of what to say, Yoongi stares wordlessly from Jimin to his sketchpad and back. Deep down, he knows that this is the part of the conversation where he’s supposed to say thank you but the words are lost in his throat, not quite making it to his mouth.
“I-I’ve been searching for that everywhere.” Yoongi says at last, which isn’t what he wanted to say at all, but it earns a giggle from Jimin, which he decides is most definitely worth it, because Jimin’s laugh is possibly one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.
“I’m sure you have.” Jimin teases, filling in the blanks and continuing the conversation. He bites his lip then, hesitation evident in his face, but eventually he seems to gives in and speaks again. “I hope you don’t mind, but I flicked through a couple of them.”
Yoongi can feel his face heat up again at the thoughts of Jimin looking through his sketches. Sure, it was bad enough that some of them weren’t probably some of his best, but if Yoongi remembers correctly, he definitely did a nude study in there somewhere (some of which consisted of naked boys kissing each other in the moonlight, not that Yoongi’s into that. It had been strictly research. That’s all) which makes the whole situation ten times worse.
“They’re amazing. I…well I couldn’t help myself from flicking through the entire thing.” Jimin gushes, and Yoongi would hazard a guess that his face is slowly turning from hot pink to beet red. Nobody apart from Namjoon or his family have seen his artwork before. Just like everything else, he’s always been shy about his artwork, because showing someone your art is like showing them a piece of your soul.
And perhaps, this is exactly what he’s done. Accidentally of course.
For some reason though, Yoongi doesn’t think he minds all that much.
“I’m sorry if I invaded your privacy, but I do hope that one day you’ll show me more of your work. Maybe this time with your consent.”
And for the first time that night, the words come to Yoongi instantly, as easily as breathing and all without thought.
“Of course.” he says softly, and Jimin’s eyes widen a fraction before his entire face lights up as his lips spread into a smile that stretches from one ear to the other.
“I have lots of work on canvas. I can show you anytime” he adds, the rush of words refusing to stop now that they’ve found a way to get out. “If…if that’s what you want, that is. You don’t have to pretend to like my work. Honestly, my pieces are just mediocre after all—“
“Yoongi,” Jimin giggles again, cutting him off. “I wouldn’t have asked to see more if I didn’t want to.”
“Oh.” Yoongi breathes out, slightly out of breath form his rambling. “Oh.” he repeats, his brain frantically trying to put the pieces together in his head.
And Jimin laughs.
Three days after being reunited with his sketchpad, Yoongi is sitting outside on the balcony, hands covered in various shades of blue and purple as he attempts to paint a siren lounging on a rock. Texture has always been an artistic technique he’s struggled at, and he’s having a hard time trying to make the scales look like actual scales and not something akin to feathers.
It’s more difficult that it looks.
But perhaps it would help if his mind wasn’t preoccupied by a smiley boy with soft blonde waves that sits on his forehead like a messy halo. His hands are itching to dip into soft peaches and gentle beiges, his inspiration screaming at him to splash Jimin across his canvas instead of the sea.
“This is hopeless!” Yoongi yells out, tossing his paint brush to the ground as he tugs on his hair with his hands, frustrated that his skills aren’t coming as easily to him as they usually do. Half a mermaid’s tail stares back at him tauntingly, messy with no definite shape, and it’s driving him to insanity.
“If you keep tugging at your hair like that, you’ll be bald by tomorrow,” a small voice sings, and for a second, Yoongi considers if throwing himself off the balcony is a good option.
Uncurling his fingers from his hair, Yoongi spins around on his wooden stool and frowns as Jimin approaches him cautiously, a plate of watermelon held up in his hands as if he’s surrendering it as a peace offering.
“Gretchen told me to deliver this to you at all costs,” he says slowly, edging closer and closer to the threshold of the balcony." she said you haven’t eaten anything all day.”
Yoongi internally curses his Aunt for telling his own personal business to Jimin. There’s not doubt in him that she’s the reason why Jimin’s currently in his room, offering him neatly cut cubes of watermelon that definitely don’t look like they were chopped by Gretchen. They’re rough and uneven. Perhaps Jimin had actually gone to the trouble himself.
“You can just…” Yoongi trails off as he fidgets with his fingers. He points towards a small empty space on the coffee table beside him. “…set it here.” he finishes, burying himself back into his painting as he picks up a fresh brush and dips it into a turquoise colour, palms beginning to sweat as they curl around the handle.
Not taking his eyes off his canvas, Yoongi tries to concentrate on his brushstrokes, but the sound of footsteps moving across the balcony and a plate hitting the table throws him off, making his hands tremble.
“You really like to paint the sea, don’t ya?”
Yoongi yelps as his paintbrush falls to the ground, splattering splotches of turquoise everywhere.
“Shit, I’m really sorry!” Jimin gushes, apologies falling from his lips as he literally flings himself towards the ground, his small hands reaching for the paintbrush as Yoongi leans down at the same time, causing their foreheads to bump against each other.
“Sorry!” Jimin repeats like a broken record as Yoongi winces, rubbing his head as he jerks away from the blonde haired boy, embarrassed at the close proximity.
“S’okay,” Yoongi mumbles back in reply, paintbrush back in his hand. He dips it into a green colour this time before begins to blend the sea, but there’s a pair of eyes watching his every single move. He can feel it. Nervous, he tries his best to keep his hands as steady as possible, but he ends up dropping the paintbrush all over again.
“How about a furit break?” Jimin’s squeaky voice is back, and a wedge of watermelon is being wiggled in front of his nose.
Smiling soflty, he accepts it, and swivels around on his stool, where Jimin is pulling up a seat for himself. His tan has grown darker, giving him a lovely golden glow, and even more freckles have appeared on his neck and his nose.
“You know, you did promise me that you’d show me more of your art,” Jimin says gently as he picks up his own piece of watermelon. “you also promised that you’d show me anytime.”
At this, Yoongi purses his lips. “I never promised anything.” he grumbles, and the blonde puffs out his cheeks.
“Okay, so you didn’t promise, but you did say you would,” the younger whines as Yoongi takes a bite of his watermelon, chewing thoughtfully as Jimin stares at him with puppy dog eyes. “I even brought you your favourite fruit! So can you pleeeease lemme see the rest of your art, pretty please?”
Nobody’s ever pestered Yoongi like this before, not even Namjoon has ever begged for him to do something this much, and that’s including the time he wheedled and whined for Yoongi to go to Spring Formal with him.
A thought crosses Yoongi mind. “I thought you said Gretchen cut up the watermelon?”
Jimin’s cheeks turn pink. “Okay, so maybe Gretchen didn’t actually cut up the watermelon. Let’s just say that I did, but with good intentions that are not bordering the lines of bribery,” He sends Yoongi a sheepish grin. “would it make a difference?”
And, really, what has Yoongi got to lose? Jimin seems genuine enough, and although Jimin had insisted that this wasn’t bribery, Yoongi thinks there’s a little more to it. With a deep sigh, he brushes down his shorts and gets to his feet, Jimin shooting up like a bullet, eyes hopeful.
“Follow me.” Yoongi says, padding into the shade of his room, heading towards the bookshelf at the back of his room.
“Um, Yoongi, you do know that’s a bookshelf and not a door, right?” Jimin sounds a little bit concerned, as if he thinks Yoongi’s a little crazy. It makes him feel a tad bit embarrassed as he shoves one set of books to the side.
“It’s errr…well it’s a secret door.” he mumbles, trying not to make it sound too corny. “I keep a lot of my stuff in this room because the temperature is nice and cool. They won’t get damaged in here.”
Jimin hums, but it still sounds like he’s not buying it. Wanting to get this over and done quickly, Yoongi grabs Peter Pan off the shelf and shakes it. A little brass key slips out and Yoongi sighs with relief as he scoops it up and shoves it into the keyhole. Once it’s unlocked, Yoongi pushes it open, revealing a set of stairs leading up.
“Whoa,” Jimin breathes, and Yoongi wipes his sweaty palms on his shorts. “is this where you always disappear to in the evenings?”
He shakes his head. “It’s way too cold in here all the time, and despite popular belief, I actually like the heat.”
The younger boy laughs at this, and it makes Yoongi feel good about himself, because, hey, he actually made someone laugh. This is definitely something for the Min Yoongi record books.
“Mind your head on the ceiling.” Yoongi says as he steps inside, ducking down as the familiar planks of wood stoop down to greet him. He begins to ascend, Jimin quickly following after him.
He’s never shown anybody else his secret room before--not that he’s ever had friends in Sycamore to show the room to, but still. This is odd. He wonders if this is what it feels like to let unfamiliar people into his life.
“—oongi! Look out!”
The beam of wood comes out of nowhere, or perhaps, he should have been paying more attention to his surroundings. Either way, his forehead hits it with a dull thud, and Yoongi stumbles back, but Jimin is behind him, ready to catch him.
“Ooomph.” he gasps as he lands roughly against Jimin’s chest. If he were in a cartoon, Yoongi is positive that there’d be stars swirling around his head.
“You can’t say I didn’t warn you,” Jimin laughs as he smiles down at Yoongi. Even upside down he looks lovely. “were you daydreaming?”
Yoongi shakes his head.
“Thinking,” he mumbles, scrambling out of Jimin’s arms as he brushes down his clothes. “I was thinking. I do it a lot.”
Smooth. Real smooth, Yoongi.
Jimin looks like he wants to say something else, but before he gets the chance, Yoongi turns around and pushes through the curtains that cover the entrance.
It’s been a while since he’s been in here; none of his projects for this Summer have been completed yet, so this is the first time he’s set foot in here since last year. Small and circular, the room has remained intact, the walls are covered in old fashioned wallpaper, and the wooden planks on the floor are old and creaky, yet it feels cosy as opposed to feeling haunted.
There’s only two windows in the room, and the natural sunlight fills the room with enough light to see. A thick inch of dust covers a lot of the area, but all of his paintings are protected by cloths that drape over them.
From behind him, Jimin sneezes, making him jump in fright. He whirls around, and finds Jimin scratching his nose, but he looks pleased. “This is really cool, Yoongi.” he says earnestly, and Yoongi feels a shimmer of confidence run through his body.
“You really think so?” he asks, and Jimin laughs.
“Yeah, Yoongi. I really think so.”
Feeling a little more confident, Yoongi walks over to a pink cloth and pulls it off, coughing as the dust particles fill his lungs. He bats the bothersome stuff out of the air and picks up the canvas sitting on the easel, hurrying over to Jimin and shoving it into his hands.
“I…I did this last Summer. It’s one of my favourites.” He clasps his hands together and taps his foot nervously as Jimin examines the canvas, eyebrows furrowed.
“It’s…it’s supposed to be a fisherman out at sea!” he explains hastily, pointing at the boat that sits at the foreground of the painting. “He’s alone, but it’s alright, because he has the stars with him, so he’s not really alone, because there’s fish and whales and dolphins in the sea too…” he trails off and swallows back a lump in his throat as Jimin remains silent.
“Maybe it’s a little too simple.” he adds as an afterthought, reaching out to take the canvas back, but Jimin reels it into his chest.
“No!” he exclaims, and Yoongi’s eyes widen. “I’m not finished looking at it.” he adds, a smile spreading across his lips.
“Oh.” Yoongi says, dumbfounded, and Jimin looks at him again, but this time he really looks at him, as if he’s trying to figure out what he’s thinking.
“You know, you’re really good, right?” he says at last, and Yoongi snorts.
“It could’ve done with more persepective.” he sighs, and Jimin rolls his eyes.
“Don’t be an art hoe. It’s brilliant. Why haven’t you sold it? And if the rest are as good as this one, why haven’t you sold all of them?”
Jimin’s praise is making him blush, and for once he’s thankful for the shitty lighting in this room.
“They’re not that good.” he mumbles, and Jimin hits him lightly on the shoulder.
“Don’t be modest.” he scolds, and then he’s sitting down on the floor, crossing his legs as he tilts his head to the side, seemingly expecting something.
“Well? Aren’t you going to show me the rest?” he sighs after a beat of silence passes between them, and Yoongi runs a hand through his hair before nodding shyly.
They spend the rest of the afternoon sitting on the floor and talking about everything and nothing. Small talk. That’s what it’s called apparently. At least, that’s what Jimin had called it.
The minutes faded into hours and the hours faded into dusk until suddenly Jimin is checking his watch and cursing as he jumps to his feet. “Shit! I promised Seokjin I’d finish painting my side of the lodge before sun down!”
He sends Yoongi an apologetic look before he speeds out the room, leaving Yoongi sitting on the floor, a little dazed and confused, but then the footsteps return and Jimin is hunched over, panting as he leans in and pecks Yoongi on the cheek.
“Thank you for today.” he breathes, scratching the back of his neck.
And then he’s gone again, leaving Yoongi feeling even more dazed and confused than before.
There’s something about the warm Summer nights that keep Yoongi awake; but not in a sticky humid or uncomfortable way.
No, Summer night’s in Sycamore are something special. Something that would inspire anybody willing to stay awake past midnight.
Yoongi’s never really been an early sleeper anyway.
Padding across his room in an old pair of dungarees and his bare feet, Yoongi flings open the rustic styled shutters of the sliding door, allowing the bright beams of moonlight to illuminate the entire room. From where he stands behind the glass door, he can tell that the sea is clam tonight. A full moon hangs sleepily in the sky, waiting patiently for the sun to relieve it from it’s duties.
Taking a deep breath, he wills the door to slide open and steps outside, a gasp of wonder spilling from his lips as he stares at the world above him.
The night sky is clear in the early hours of the morning; not a cloud pollutes the black canvas over his head. Every instinct in his body is screaming at him to grab a brush and paint this masterpiece.
And perhaps, this is what he might have done, if, at that very moment, a certain Park Jimin hadn’t of dropped down onto his baclocny, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. It’s nearly as if he spontaneously decided to materialize in front of him like a ghost.
“Christ on a bike!” Yoongi exclaims, leaping ten feet into the air as Jimin shushes him, his index finger pressed against his lips.
“Be quiet! You don’t want to wake the rest of the house up, do you?” Jimin whisper-yells, rolling his eyes as Yoongi winces.
“H-How on earth did you get here?” he stammers, still shell-shocked, and Jimin, the demon he is, bursts into a giddy fit of giggles.
“I heard your door opening.” Jimin says, matter-of-factly. “I was curious to see what’s keeping you up.” He takes a step closer, looking at Yoongi with innocent eyes.
Gulping, Yoongi takes a step back. “T-That doesn’t answer my question.” Yoongi says, feet continuing to retreat backwards towards the safety of his room.
“Your room is below mine. The roof makes it easy to slide down onto your balcony.” Jimin explains, picking up his pace as he steps forward; one, two, one, two.
“R-Right,” Yoongi breathes, feeling dizzy as his back finally hits the the cool glass of the sliding door. Trying to be as discreet as possible, his hands fidget behind his back, scrambling to find the door handle, but Jimin is watching his every move like a hawk.
“It’s getting quite late,” his voice comes out croaky, as if he were a frog. “I should…I should probably try to get some sleep before the sun comes up.” he babbles, slipping into his room before sliding the door shut, only, it doesn’t shut.
Instead, a black croc wedges itself in between the door and the wall, and Yoongi grimaces as he lifts his head, locking eyes with the curious boy and his almond-shaped eyes.
“You were looking at the sky weren’t you?” Jimin says, voice barely above a whisper. “Like me.”
Now, this gets his attention, because nobody has ever shared his love for the night sky before. Even Namjoon gets confused when Yoongi tries to name and explain the different constellations and their stars. The older boy may be smart, but no matter how many times Yoongi tells him that Phoenix and Cassiopoeia aren’t neigbours in the sky, Nmajoon just can’t comprehend it.
“Look, I know I’m probably not the kind of person you hang around with,” Jimin says hurridly, as if he’s afraid that Yoongi is going to slam the door shut, whether his croc is still jammed in the door or not.
“And I know that you probably think that I’m just doing this because Gretchen told me to.”
Embarrassed, Yoongi slinks into the darkness behind the sheer curtains of the door, hiding away as Jimin continues to jam the sliding door.
“I think you’re interesting,” he adds, earnestly, eyes wide. “I think you’re lovely.”
For a moment, Yoongi remains silent, unsure of how he should play his cards. There’s only two ways this can go; either Yoongi gives Jimin a chance, or he doesn’t.
“Are you trying to get on my good side?” Yoongi asks quietly, still hiding behind the curtain, afraid to show his face.
“Yes,” Jimin says quietly, eyes darting towards the ground. “you could say I am.”
Intrigued, Yoongi allows himself to step out into the moonlight his fingers slowly slipping out of the door handle as Jimin removes his foot, helping Yoongi to slide the door open.
“Did Taehyung put you up to this?” Yoongi asks wearily, still unsure of what Jimin’s intentions are. He’s seen all the movies with situations like this in them. He knows exactly how they end too, usually with the naïve protagonist turning into a victim of a juvenile prank.
The last thing he wants is to find himself tied up at the bottom of the sea.
“No,” Jimin says, eyes wide and innocent. “this is all me.”
A beat of silence passes.
“Can I take you somewhere?” Jimin’s voice is cautious, as if Yoongi is a timebomb, ready to explode if you ask it the wrong question.
“It depends,” Yoongi replies, curious. “I don’t usually let strangers kidnap me in the middle of the night.”
At this, Jimin laughs, high and light, like a wind chime blowing in a sweet breeze. Yoongi kind of loves it (not that he’d tell Jimin this, of course).
“I’m glad I’m first to do so then.”
The younger boy ends up bringing him to Sycamore’s Pier, a popular tourist attraction to many who visit the quiet seaside village. By day, the Pier is usually known as the hubbub of the town. But by night. It’s the quietest place on Earth, or at least it seems to be, as Jimin leads them further and further away from the mainland.
Still vaguely suspicious that this is still some sort of prank, Yoongi looks left and right, scanning the surroundings for a hint of brown hair or a boxy grin , but it appears that the only people to be found around here at this hour are Jimin and him.
“Looking for Taehyung?” Jimin asks, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them on the short journey to the Pier.
Embarrasssed at being caught, Yoongi tries to redeem himself. “It’s not that I didn’t trust you.” he tries, which makes Jimin laugh his sweet laugh again.
“It’s just that you didn’t believe me, right?” he teases, making Yoongi’s face feel hot.
“I’m sorry.” he mumbles, and Jimin clicks his tongue.
“What are you apologising for, hm? You do know that friends tend to joke around sometimes, right?” He comes to an abrupt halt on the wooden dock, forcing Yoongi to stop too.
The younger boy turns around and cocks an eyebrow, giving Yoongi an expectant look.
“R-Right,” he echoes. “Friends joke around sometimes, yeah."
At this, Jimin rolls his eyes, but not a patronizing way. Without a word, he slips his hand into Yoongi’s, tugging him towards the water.
“C’mon. This way.”
Tripping over his feet, Yoongi does his best to keep up with the younger boy’s brisk pace. Whatever Jimin wants to show him must be close.
“Alright, here we are!” Jimin announces as he stops once again, Yoongi stumbling into him.
“What—“ Yoongi starts, but is suddenly cut off as Jimin slaps both of his palms over his eyes, sending him into a hurricane of panic because, dear god, Jimin might be a better liar than Yoongi originally thought.
“Brace yourself.” Jimin whispers into his ear, pushing the elder forward.
Terrified at what’s to come, Yoongi’s body begins to tremble. This can’t be happening.
“Are you ready?”
Yoongi gulps, shaking like a leaf. Jimin’s hands are still covering his vision, and he can hear water lapping below him.
This is really the end, for him. Although he can swim, he's unsure if he can swim through the embarrassment of being so naive and dumb to be lead to the edge of the Pier by an eighteen-year old boy who is currently about to send him to him splashing and thrashing into the black hole of complete and utter humiliation--
“One, two…three!” Jimin counts before removing his palms from Yoongi’s eyes as the black haired boy gasps.
“Ta-da!” Jimin sings, and Yoongi can feel his eyes widen at the sight that the younger boy has placed in front of him. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Speechless, Yoongi tries to drink in everything all at once, because before him, lies a personified version of Vincent Van Gogh’s 'Starry Night'—no. Scratch that thought.
This is something better.
The moon is kissing the horizon while the stars are doing pirohettes in the sky. Water laps to the rhthm of the night, while crickets sing in harmony with the flapping of the fireflies’ wings.
This is the scene that poets like Yeats and Hughes try to create in their poetry.
This is the scene of euphoria.
“How did you…” but Yoongi trails off, still wondersruck. “How did you find this?”
Jimin hums in thought.
“On the first night we arrived here, I couldn’t sleep. I think I was too excited. My mom is originally from Sycamore, you know, but her and her folks moved out when she was only ten, and all of them have never felt the urge to come back.”
Yoongi remains quiet, giving Jimin a silent sign to continue.
“She always said that when it wasn’t Summer, Sycamore was always a ghost town. That’s why she moved to the city.”
Suddenly a thought crosses Yoongi’s mind.
“Annette.” he says, and Jimin’s face splits into a smile. “Aunty Gretchen once mentioned she had a best friend when she was young. One she only sees every once a while now. She’s very sick, and can only have visitors once in a blue moon….” he trails off as he watches Jimin’s face crumple, and then suddenly, he understands.
“Mom has a rare form cancer. I only get to see her once a month.” Jimin says, voice barely above a whisper, yet there are not tears in his eyes. Just a deep sadness that Yoongi knows will never be cured. “The medicine has destroyed her, so when I do get to see her, she never really speaks. All she does is hum nonsense that nobody can really understand.”
“I…I never knew.” he says, after a few moments of silence pass.
“How could you? I only found out about Gretchen in April, and once I found out, well…” Jimin trails off, staring out wistfully at the horizon. “I wanted to meet her. I wanted to see Sycamore for myself, because there’s pictures all over the house of this place.”
“I never imagined Gretchen would let me stay in her lodge though. I’ve never met her before this Summer, but I guess the cheap labour was too good to resist, and having a three-month Summer vacation didn’t sound bad for a group of eighteen-year old boys.”
“Aunty Gretchen is like that.” Yoongi agrees, a smile of his own spreading across his lips.
Nodding in thought, Jimin edges closer to the end of the Pier before sitting down. The Pier isn’t that high, and the tide is in, so it isn’t a surprise that when Jimin sits down, he removes his crocs before proceeding to dip his toes into the water.
“Sit. I don’t bite.” he calls, and Yoongi complies, removing his worn-out sandals as he copies Jimin’s previous action of submerging his feet in the water.
As he sits, Yoongi allows himself to become lost in his thoughts. Although initially he’d been weary of Jimin’s intentions, he’s glad his curiousity ended up getting the better of him in the end. He wonders if this is something Namjoon would be proud of him for doing. It’s an accomplishment for sure; in all his years of visiting Sycamore, he’s never made a friend. The only people he tends to socialize with—apart from his Aunty and Uncle—are the elderly locals, and even then, he finds it hard to talk comfortably with them.
But perhaps this is the kind of thing that his dad has been pushing for him to do. Yoongi will never disrespect his father for pushing him, but sometimes Yoongi feels guilty that he’s so quiet compared to the man. Yoongi’s father is a multi-millionaire and a successful business man, a man known for his gentleman personality, good manners, and a heart of gold, although many would claim that Yoongi has these traits too.
The only gene that he’s seemed to fail at inheriting is the one that gives him the confidence of his father, which he in turn, had learned from his mom.
“I can never fault you, my son. We’ve raised you to be a respectable young man, but sometimes I fear that you live in the shadow of yourself.” his father once told him when he was sitting in front of the fireplace on a Saturday night.
“Remember, it’s up to you to become the leading role in the movie of your life. You must be stern with yourself, and push boundaries that are seemingly impossible to move.” He took a puff of his pipe then.
“If there’s one thing that my own father taught me, Yoongi, it’s this; nothing is impossible.This is what brought brought my bussines and I to the top of the economic pyramid.”
So maybe, coming here with Jimn tonight, is a small step out of the shadow he has created for himself.
“Do you mind if I go for a dip?” Jimin’s voice brings him back down to earth, and Yoongi blinks once, twice, until he comes to his senses.
“A dip?” Yoongi questions, puzzled. “Is it not too cold?”
Jimin tuts impatiently, already pulling off his loose t-shirt, revealing a tanned, toned chest that makes Yoongi’s mouth run dry.
“Care to join me?” he asks, a cheeky grin on his face.
Yoongi swallows back the lump in his throat. It’s not like he can’t swim. Thankfully his mom had hired a lifeguard to teach him how to swim and save lives as a kid, and swimming is actually something Yoongi enjoys, albeit, maybe not as much as Jimin seems to. The elder boy thinks he’s seen the blonde in the water more times than out ever since he’s arrived.
“There’s no lifeguard around.” Yoongi notes suddenly, anxious that something might go wrong. He’s never put his childhood lifeguard training into practice, and he would never forgive himself if Jimin drowns under his watch.
“The water is a friend, not a foe.” Jimin says, stripping into his boxers. He begins to pace backwards, eyes staring out into the endless stretch of water in front of him. He stretches his arms like an Olympic athlete about to start a race.
“Jimin…” Yoongi tries again, but it’s too late, because Jimin is already pinching his nostrils shut as he proceeds to cannonball into the sea below them.
Yoongi barley scrambles awat form the edge of the Pier in time to avoid being splashed. Stunned at the drastic change of events, he crawls to his feet and stares anxiously at the ripples in the water. As far as he can see, there’s no life ring around, meaning that if Jimin doesn’t return to the surface, Yoongi's going to be in trouble.
“Come on, come on, come on,” Yoongi chants like a prayer. “please don’t drown, please don’t drown…”
And then Jimin shoots out of the water, gasping.
“Yoongi, help!” he yells, splashing around frantically, a look of sheer panic adorning his face. “Yoongi!”
It doesn’t take him long to react.
One minute, he’s standing on the wooden Pier, shredding off his dungarees and sandals, the next, he’s diving into the navy water, whose temperature is surprisingly warm, and despite the night sky being so dark, the moonlight is as bright as a neon sign on Times Square.
He swims to where Jimin is flailing, wrapping his arms around the younger’s waist as he tries to reel the both of them back to dry land.
“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks as Jimin begins to calm down.
But maybe, he should have known better, because immediately after asking the question, Jimin’s limbs come to stand-still, and a shit-eating smirk spreads across his lips. He splashes two handfuls of salty water into Yoongi’s face.
Damn his naivety.
“Gotcha!” Jmin yells, brusting into a fit of giggles as Yoongi releases his waist and tries to blink the water out of his eyes.
“That’s…that’s not funny Jimin! You shouldn’t pretend to drown like that!” Yoongi scolds, sopping wet and utterly mortified at the fact that he’s shirtless in front of someone as toned as JImin, because Yoongi certainly doesn’t have anything to show off on his own chest, apart from his (unattractive) pot belly, courtesy of all the food Gretchen has managed to feed him already.
“It got you into the water though, didn’t it? Much quicker than ten minutes of endless whining and complaints would have.” Jimin huffs, wading in the water as he keeps his head afloat. The water is relatively shallow at the Pier, but then again, it apparently only takes an inch of water to drown. Yoongi tries his best to keep his senses alert.
“If you had of asked nicely, I might have considered it.” Yoongi grumbles, which is a blatant lie, and Yoongi can tell, Jimin knows it too.
“It’s a a good thing you know how to swim.” Jimin says, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
“My mom made me get swimming and lifesaving lessons when I was a kid.”
“Smart woman, your mom is, but I suppose all moms have this unique wisdom that the rest of the world doesn’t have, right?”
Yoongi smiles. “My dad refers to my mom as the smartest woman in the world.”
Jimin smiles, face radiant in the moonlight, but it’s still a little sad. Perhaps he shouldn't have brought up the topic of moms. He turns to apologise to Jimin for being inconsiderate, but is caught off guard by the younger's face shimmering in the moonlight.
And then, in that moment, Yoongi is suddenly struck by the thought that Jimin is beautiful.
Whether it be because of the rays from the moon, the toned chest up close, or the wet hair and wet skin; he’s not sure.
But what he sure of, is the way his heart rate picking up as Jimin looks at him with hazel eyes and a soft gaze.
God, he wonders if JImin’s lips feels as soft as they look.
And Yoongi knows. He knows that he’s into sharp jawlines rather than porcelain doll-like faces. He’s known since his Freshman year of high school that he’d rather watch a football game than a ballet recital. He knows, knows that there’s nothing to fear about feeling this way, but perhaps there might be a fear that comes with possibly liking Jimin.
Because as far as he’s concerned, Jimin is the polar opposite of him. On the scale of life, Jimin is a tornado of living fast and reckless. He says what he feels, wears his heart on his sleeve, yet he’s as unpredictable as the weather.
Yoongi, on the other hand, well, he likes watching paint dry (quite literally), could lose himself in his own thoughts for days, and he’s very bad at expressing how he feels.
Yet, here he is, wading in the middle of the sea past midnight with Jimin, and there’s no other place he’d rather be.
“Jimin,” Yoongi blurts out as the younger boy blinks in surprise at the elder’s sudden outburst.
“Yeah?” Jimin asks, gentle and quiet.
“Thank you.” It comes out barely above a whisper, and with all the shynesss of the world. For a dreaded second, Yoongi wonders if Jimin even heard it, but when Jimin begins to beam at him, he starts to believe that the odds are in his favour tonight.
“You’re welcome.” the other boy replies. “Christ Yoongi, you’re so welcome.”
They make it a thing.
Like an unspoken agreement, or a verbally signed contract, they escape to the Pier every night they can, and it’s here, in the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning, that Yoongi learns more about Park Jimin than he’s ever intended to.
However, tonight, Yoongi finds Jimin and himself lounging around on his bed, talking in hushed voices about the world through their eyes. At some point during their conversation, Jimin had managed to wriggle underneath his plaid blanket, curling up beside him like a calico cat. Once again Yoongi becomes hyper-aware of how soft and smooth Jimin’s sun-kissed skin is.
“Do you believe in soulmates?” Jimin whispers as they stare up at the painting of Posideon on the ceiling. “I read once in a book that Zeus created humans joined together, but sooner or later, he began to fear them. He was afraid they’d become stronger than him.”
Yoongi frowns. “What has this got to do with soulmates—“ but Jimin shushes him by poking his cheek playfully as he rolls over, turning so he’s facing the older boy.
“This has everything to do with soulmates, Yoongi! It’s because of this fear that Zeus decided to split the pairs of humans in two, condemning them to search for each other for the rest of their lives.” Jimin explains, and Yoongi hums in amusement.
“Interesting.” he says, voice a little bit flat, which he doesn’t seem to impress Jimin at all.
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.” the blonde complains, getting defensive.
“I never said it wasn't true.” Yoongi objects and the room falls silent, but it’s a nice kind of silent. The kind of silent that isn’t stuffy and awkward. It’s calming, plus, it’s an opportunity to listen to Jimin’s heartbeat.
“Will you show some of your drawings?”
Yoongi knows he’ll never be able to say no to Jimin.
A minute flies by before he wills himself to slip out from underneath the warmth of the plaid blanket. Scuttling around, he picks up his sketchpad before retreating back to the bed, like a crab returning from its' treasure cove.
“Before you say anything, I’m not professional or anything, so they probably aren’t any good—“
“Don't even start, Min Yoongi. I've seen what you can do with a paintbrush, plus I've looked through your other sketchpad, so I doubt what's in here is are going to be anything less." Jimin huffs, cutting him off as he takes the sketchpad from his hands, flicking it open without any hesitation.
Wincing, Yoongi wrings his hands together as he sits up, his right shoulder bumping against Jimin’s bare shoulder as he watches the younger with anxious eyes.
He might as well be showing Jimin a piece of his soul.
The silence that was once comfortable has become excruciating. Jimin’s face is expressionless as he flicks through the drawings and; oh dear god Yoongi prays to the heavens that this isn’t the sketchpad with—
“Oh.” Jimin breathes as he opens up that Yoongi thought he’d torn out long ago.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Is this…?” The ‘me’ never leaves Jimin’s lips, and Yoongi lets his face fall into his palms.
What had he done in his past life to deserve this humiliation? Yoongi is screaming internally at his artistic inspiration for being so gosh-diddley-darn gay.
Jesus, Jimin is never going to talk to him again—
“Yoongi,” Jimin giggles, and suddenly there’s the soft feeling of hands on his wrists as they force his hands away from his blushing face. “Don’t be embarrassed.” he chides, coaxing Yoongi out of his current state. "These are wonderful, really. I love them."
"Stop," Yoongi chokes out, refusing to meet Jimin's eyes. "you don't have to lie--"
“I’m not.” Jimin says fiercely, startling Yoongi into silence once more. “I wouldn’t lie to you. You don’t deserve to be lied to. You’re a good person, Yoongi. Whether you believe it or not.”
Yoongi let’s out a breath as he looks at the drawings lying open on the blonde’s lap. Sketches of toned chests, crescent shaped eyes and soft pouty lips stare back at him. Images that he can’t seem to empty his mind of ever since he’s met the owner of the features.
“Yoongi,” God, he’ll never get tired of Jimin calling him by his name. “Do you…do you like boys?”
Yoongi doesn’t say anything. Just switches his gaze back down to hid wringing hands. He’s vaguely aware of Jimin shifting around on the bed. Probably trying to put some distance between them. His heart aches at the thought.
“Yoongi,” Jimin repeats, more insistent this time. The room feels like a sauna. “If it makes you feel any better," he pauses, shifting around on the bed.
"I…I like boys too.”
Surprised, Yoongi looks up, gasping when he finds Jimin sitting opposite him, his face inches away from his own.
Jimin smells like peaches and the sea and all the sweetest things on this planet.
“I won’t do anything you’re no comfortable with.” he whispers, his hot breath fanning across Yoongi’s face.
“I-I’m never not comfortable around you.” Yoongi stammers.
A smirk creeps onto Jimin’s lips. “Good.”
And when his eyes flutter shut, Yoongi holds his breath and clamps his eyelids together as a warm pair of lips meet his own.
It only dawns on him after the first few seconds that he’s never actually done something like this before, except of course, that one time he kissed Namjoon, but that wasn't truly a proper kiss, because Namjoon had been teaching him how to kiss; just so he would be prepared for it when something like this happened to occur in Yoongi’s mediocre life.
But where Namjoon’s lips had been chapped and stiff, Jimin’s are soft, pillowy, as if Yoongi’s kissing a cloud rather than a set of lips. The scent of peaches has become more intense, and now there’s his own additional scent that's engulfing the pair of them.
It makes him feel dizzy.
Too afraid to pull apart, Yoongi remains as stiff as a board as Jimin slowly places his hands on his face, tilting his head a little to the side, guiding him with the experience that Yoongi doesn’t have.
It feels incredible, touching Jimin like this. An electric charge surges through his body anytime their skin brushes off each other, and Yoongi’s stomach is erupting into a firework display similar to one that you'd see on the fourth of July.
“M-My waist.” Jimin gasps as they pull apart for air, his face flushed. “Put your…hands on my waist.”
Yoongi complies, carefully placing his hands on Jimin’s hips as the younger scoots into his lap, his back hitting the wooden headboard on his bed. They kiss and kiss until they can’t anymore, until Yoongi’s lips feel puffy and bruised, his fingers leaving faint red marks on Jimin’s hips from squeezing so tightly.
They stay in the same position for a while, Yoongi sitting against the headboard with Jimin in his lap, both of them panting in unison. Somewhere in bewteen the passing of time, Jimin lets his forehead rest in the crook of Yoongi’s meck, breathing slowly as they sit as one.
The weight of what they’ve done tonight is crushing Yoongi’s thoughts. Something has changed between the two of them, something that makes him feel exhilarated and nervous at the same time.
Perhaps, if he had of experienced the feeling before, he would have been able to decipher that these are the early stages of falling in love, but being the innocent, nineteen-year-old boy he is, Yoongi has no idea why it feels like there’s a swarm of butterflies fluttering around in his belly.
Pushing the thoughts away, Yoongi simply lets Jimin fall asleep in his arms. He’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow. For now, he’ll let it be.
(And for the first time in his life, Yoongi sketches the sleeping face of a boy in his lap).
It’s around breakfast time--while Yoongi is in the middle of shovelling Gretchen’s signature scrambled eggs into his mouth--when the first news of the storm crackles through the radio.
“And if you’ve planned on bookin’ a holiday to the seaside lodge at Sycamore in one month from now, you better cancel your trip riiiiight now, folks!”
“That’s right, Joel! You heard it here first ladies and gents, Sycamore is in for one hell of storm in early August. The biggest storm since nineteen-sixty-three is gonna be wrecking havoc on our beloved little Sycamore’s shores—“
The radio cuts off and Yoongi looks around, only to find Gretchen scowling at the small metal box as she waves her spatuala around angrily, as if she were conducting an orchestra of a roman mob.
“Damn you, Joel and Caroline! Just because your room had a dodgy window when you were staying here, it does not give you the right tell my customers to cancel their bookings in my beach lodge.”
Yoongi stifles a laugh at his Aunty’s disgruntled manner, which she doesn’t seem to miss. Unamused, she sends him a blazing look, which in turn, makes him choke on his eggs.
“Serves you right.” she sniffs like a child and Yoongi doesn’t comment any further as he chugs down his glass of orange juice. From under the table, Samwise Gamgee whines, bushy tail brushing away the dust that's settled around Yoongi's feet. He's begging for scraps, and although Aunty Gretchen doesn't encourage feeding him from the table, it doesn't stop Yoongi from accidentally dropping forkfuls of scrambled eggs now and again.
“Oh look! Here comes Jimin and Jungkook!”
He chokes for the second time that morning right there and then, and before he can comprehend what’s happening, his glass has already slipped out of his hand, falling to the ground with a tremendous crash before smashing into smithereens.
As if on cue, Jungkook and Jimin come tumbling into the kitchen, covered in splotches of paint. They’re laughing about something, and a weird, pinching feeling comes over Yoongi's heart as his Aunty orders him to clean up the mess he’s just made while she serves up some brunch for the younger boys.
Cheeks flushed Yoongi does does as he’s told, avoiding eye contact with Jimin as the two boys sit down at the round kitchen tables. He cleans up the mess as fast as possible, wiping up the liquid with a ratty cloth as he listens to the conversation around him.
“How’s my new chicken coop coming along, boys?” Aunty Gretchen asks as she slams down two plates full of scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages on the table.
“Pretty good, Gretchen. Seokjin did a good job of building it. Plus, it’s super entertaining watching Tae get chased by the chickens every time he tries to pick up their chicks.”
Aunty Gretchen guffaws.
“Trust Taehyung to does something like that. Every time I see him he’s either not working or pretending to work.”
“To his credit, he does make time go by quicker.” Jimin chimes in, shovelling a forkful of bacon into his mouth. Yoongi tries ro make himself as invisible as possible as he scoops up shards of glass from the floor.
“Yeah, Taehyung does seem to make time go faster, but I’ve never seen anyone work as fast as you do, Jimin. You're always in a rush to get your half of the jobs done, and then as soon as you're finished, you're running off to wherever you run off to. Where are you always rushing to, eh? Have you been meeting up with someone special behind our backs?”
Yoongi freezes as an awkward silence falls over the kitchen. He can feel his ears beginning to heat up. In seconds they’ll be beet red.
Jimin clears his throat. “I’ve told you guys already. I go to the Pier for afternoon swims. That’s all, and the last time I checked, it’s not a crime.”
“As if we’re going to believe that. Nobody likes to swim that much by themselves.” Jungkook scoffs.
“Whatever.” Jimin mumbles, the faintest tinge of pink splashing across his nose. “It’s not a big deal.”
Thankfully, nobody gets the chance to push the topic any further, because without warning, Taehyung bursts through the back door, screeching as a half a dozen chickens squawk angrily as they chase after him.
“Gretchen! Help me!” he yelps as he runs loops around the kitchen before sprinting back out the door, the chickens continuing to chase after him with determination.
“Oh man, I’ve got to record this! Tae, wait up!” Jugngkook yells, jumping to his feet before stumbling out the back door after the brunette.
Sighing heavily, Aunty Gretchen pulls off her frilly blue apron and quickly follows suit, leaving Jimin and Yoongi alone in the kitchen. Still not quite sure what to make of the past few minutes, Yoongi finishes mopping up the liquid and proceeds to scoop up the larger pieces of glass with his hands.
A heavy silence falls over the kitchen, the tension thick with something electric. Yoongi's heart rate begins to pick up speed at the thoughts of what might happen next.
“You do know that no matter how hard you try to blend into the world, I’ll always see you.” Jimin announces suddenly, breaking the silence between them. Scared to react, Yoongi keeps his eyes glued to the sink. A pair of hands wrap around his waist and Yoongi yelps, heart hammering agasint his chest as his windpipes become momentarily clogged.
“J-Jimin!” he stammers, squirming in the younger boy’s grasp, but Jimin only proceeds to nuzzle his face into Yoongi’s spine.
“What? Nobody’s around.”
It’s been two weeks since the kiss, and it’s safe to say that things have progressed in their relationship since then.
For starters, Jimin has acquired a habit of tapping on his sliding door at midnight when the house is silent and the world outside is asleep (not that Yoongi complains about it).
Now, most nights, Yoongi sleeps with a certain blonde curled up beside him, yet every night it feels like a dream, because as soon as the sun comes up, the warmth leaves him, and when Yoongi wakes up, he finds himself alone, basking in the scent of peaches and sea salt. It’s something that he’s never quite experienced before. In fact, this is the first time he’s ever shared his bed with somebody else. Not even Namjoon had shared a bed with him. Whenever they had sleepovers as kids, Yoongi would tend to sleep on the floor, preferring to keep himself to himself.
But a nagging feeling in his head is telling him that this is something different than sharing a bed with your best friend at a slumber party.
Perhaps, considered less platonic, because there’s kissing involved. If Namjoon were here, he’d probably accuse Jimin and him of being friend with benefits, but the thoughts of them being labelled something as tacky as that well, it just doesn’t feel right (even if the kissing has become less innocent in recent days).
And Yoongi can’t get enough of it;
Can’t get enough of Jimin.
Whether he’s painting a fence, reading a book, or doing something as mundane as eating a sandwich; Jimin always looks like a model straight out of a magazine. Every little thing he does, touching the shell of Yoongi’s ear, brushing is hair from his forehead--he's ethereal.
“You’re doing it again.” Jimin’s voice against his skin brings Yoongi back to the present. Back to the now rather than the then. “Losing yourself in your thoughts without me.” He turns Yoongi around, switching up their positions so that they’re facing each other.
“What's goes on inside that head of yours?” Jimin asks softly, but the way he says it makes Yoongi wonder if he’s asking himself more than he is Yoongi.
“I-I’m not sure most of the time.” he replies shakily. This is one of the few times he’s ever really opened up to Jimin. Yoongi much prefers keeping to himself. Even his own parents only know a small portion of how he views the world.
“Sometimes my head feels like a beehive. It’s loud and busy, buzzing with all my thoughts. They get tangled all the time, and I can’t understand what they’re trying to tell me—“
“Yoongi, that’s called overthinking.” Jimin says exasperatedly, cutting him off in the midst of his babbling. He gives Yoongi a small smile. “You’ll drive yourself close to insanity if you think too much. My mom used to tell my dad that when they first met.”
“Yeah?” Yoongi hands, placing his hand over Jimin’s holding it close.
“Yeah.” Jimin echoes. He leans in for as kiss then, a kiss that has Yoongi’s eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. Their lips brush, and it’s all going so well until—
“Yoongi, my boy!” Your Aunty told me there’s still some scrambled eggs left over in the pot. Heat them up for me, would ya?” Uncle Tom’s voice booms throughout the house as the back door swings open for the second time this morning, a familiar fisherman’s shadow slinking into the kitchen.
Jimin’s eyes widen as Yoongi pushes him away, flailing as he leaps for the hob, turning on the gas as Jimin proceeds to pick up an empty mug and press it to his lips, pretending as if the two of them weren’t previously pressed up against the kitchen counter seconds ago.
“Yoongi!” Uncle Tom cheers as he strolls into the room, loud enough to make the table shake with the vibration of his voice. “How’s my number one nephew today?” he walks over and ruffles Yoongi’s hair with one of his calloused hands.
“I-I’m doing just great! Fine, actually. Nothing too interesting…haha…” Yoongi chokes out, trying to sound as peppy and innocent as he fiddles with the hobs. “Did you get a big haul this morning?”
“You betcha!” the man chuckles, before tunring his attention to Jimin, whose ears are slowly turning turning a darker shade of red.
“Jimin! How’s the chicken coop coming along? I saw on the way in that Taehyung’s keeping himself pretty occupied.” Uncle Tom chuckles as Yoongi concenrtrates on scooping the scrambled egg into a bowl.
“The…The chicken coop is coming along fine!” Jimin says too quickly. “Speaking of the chicken coop, I better get back to work now. The coop won’t build itself!” His tone is off, as if he’s unsure of what his own voice sounds like. He places the (decoy) mug back on the counter before giving Yoongi a small smile.
“I’ll see you later, okay?”
On the surface, it only sounds like a casual handful of words strung together, but to Yoongi, well, it means so much more.
“Of course.” he replies easily, and then Jimin is gone with the Summer breeze, the back door slamming shut, leaving Yoongi alone with Uncle Tom and a bowl of scrambled eggs.
“What was that all about?” Uncle Tom asks, a bushy, silver eyebrow raising as he turns to Yoongi, looking for answers.
“It was nothing.” Yoongi says hastily, pulling out a chair and settling the bowl of eggs on a placemat.
“Nothing, you say?” Uncle Tom echoes. “Sure didn’t look like nothing.”
Yoongi shifts uncomfortably on the spot.
“Jimin’s a good kid, y’know.” Uncle Tom says in a nearly nonchalant way, but there’s a glint in his eye that tells Yoongi otherwise.
“He’s good for you. Might help you figure yourself out.”
They don’t talk after that, but it doesn’t stop Yoongi spending the rest of the day pondering over his Uncle’s words.
The feeling that Yoongi had felt on his first midnight rendezvous with Jimin returns that night. Instead of lounging on his bed, Yoongi is sitting in front of his easel while Jimin is curled up in the swinging basket on the other side of the room. The window is open, letting in a breath of fresh humid air, while Freddie Mercury’s voice crackles soflty through the ancient speakers in his old record player. As far as he knows, the vinyl had once belonged to Yoongi’s grandfather, who was until the day he passed away, a die hard Queen fan. His grandmother still jokes that her husband loved Mercury more than he ever loved her.
Outside, a wolf howls, and Yoongi is momentarily startled. His paintbrush slips out of his hand and falls to the ground, paint splattering all over the floor. At this, Jimin laughs, his reading glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. Recently he’s taken a liking to reading old classics. Today, it’s The Great Gatsby, one that Yoongi himself had read once or twice in his early teens. He’s never been a huge fan of reading, but seeing the way Jimin reads makes Yoongi want to read a thousand books, just so he can talk about them to the blonde.
“You’re so clumsy.” Jimin teases lightly, before burying his face back into his book.
Fumbling, Yoongi scoops up his paintbrush and returns his attention to the canvas in front of him, sighing as he dips the brush into his tub of periwinkle. He swipes a stripe across the sky, and then another, but the result is dull and uninspiring. Something is missing.
Frustrated, he lets out an irritable sigh, tearing the canvas from the easel before replacing it with another one. Without much thought, he picks up a new brush and dips it into a fleshy colour as he starts again.
Left, right. Left, right. He works quickly and lightly, with short and abrupt strokes of his brush. Similar to the style of Van Gogh and Monet.
One particular stroke ends up creating a curve, which eventually forms an oval. As each of the strokes run into each other, a pair of lips form, which in turn, transforms into a face, decorated with wispy golden locks of hair spilling onto the forehead.
Confused, but finally feeling inspired, Yoongi paints until he’s interrupted by a snore coming from the other side of the room. Startled, he peeks over his canvas, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips as his eyes zone in on a boy, curled up on his bed.
It appears that Jimin has fallen asleep, his book lying open across his chest. It rises and falls due to Jimin’s breath going; in, out, in out. The rhythm is steady and peaceful. A strange sight for someone who’s always so active.
The record comes to an end, plunging the room into a sudden stillness. When Yoongi get to his feet, Jimin doesn’t stir. Struck by an overwhelming wave of fondness, Yoongi slowly edges towards where the boy sleeps on his bed. He’s never been compelled to watch something as mundane as someone sleeping, but when it comes to Jimin, well, he’s already made quite a few exceptions to Yoongi’s life over the past two months.
Carefully, Yoongi reaches out as Jimin breathes in. He brushes the blonde waves off of Jimin’s forhead as the younger breathes out. At his touch, Jimin sighs, leaning into his fingers.
Embarrassed, Yoongi pulls back, but this only makes the younger whine at the loss of contact. Unsure of what to do, Yoongi reels his hands back into his chest, cheeks flushing with colour at his brash actions.
Jimin sighs. “Come here.” he mumbles, voice sleepy and eyes still firmly shut.
“What?” Yoongi whispers.
Jimin snorts before surging forward, wrapping his hands around Yoongi’s neck as he pulls him down onto the bed. Mortified, Yoongi wriggles and squirms but then Jimin kisses his forehead and nuzzles into his neck.
“Let’s just stay here,” Jimin breathes as Yoongi slowly begins to calm down. “Together.”
They fall asleep like this; side by side and in harmony.
One, two. One two.
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
Soft skin and blonde waves flood Yoongi's dreams as he tosses and turns in his bed, skin tight and hot, as if he were bathing in a pool of fire. Pouty lips trace over neck and collarbones, down, down, down until suddenly, he's jolting upright, panting harshly as he wipes the sweat off his forehead. Heat pools in his groin and oh, it's all starting to make sense.
Horrendously mortified, he tries to keep as calm and collected as possible, but it hurts a little, and he needs to deal with his problem. He needs to do something before--
"Yoongi? What're you doing awakesoearly?" Jimin's voice is slurred with sleep, and Yoongi gasps as he feels a muscular arm wrap around his waist. "Let's go back to sleep."
And Jesus-fuck, he's screwed, because Jimin is shifting closer towards his crotch, and then he's brushing against his thigh, and Jimin sucks in a breath as Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut with embarrassment. This can't be happening. Please let this be a dream. Please let this be all a figment of his imagination.
"Yoongi?" Jimin's voice is breathy and soft. "Yoongi, are you...are you hard?"
Shit; he knows. Oh save his, soul he knows.
"I..I'm sorry." he chokes out, beginning to scoot away, but Jimin keeps his arm locked around his waist as his free hand reaches up to tilt his chin up. Scared, he opens his eyes, only to find a pair of dark hazel eyes staring back at him.
"Don't apologise." he whispers, his breath hot on Yoongi's face. He leans in, so that their noses are touching.
"Can I kiss you?" Jimin asks softly, and Christ, he really is gorgeous. An angel in disguise or a siren sent from the sea, he really doesn't know. But one thing he's sure of is that Jimin's beauty is out of this world.
So with that in mind, Yoongi shuts his eyes, ignores the erratic beating of his heart, and dives right into the abyss of Park Jimin.
And, oh, it's wonderful. The experience Jimin has with his tongue, the feeling of his hands on Yoongi's waist, it's nearly all to much to the point that it's not enough, that is, until Jimin decides to roll his hips ever so lightly, the friction making Yoongi gasp as he pulls away, panting even harder than before.
"Fuck, you're hot." Jimin pants as Yoongi rubs circles into the younger's back through his thin tank top. He swoops in again, immediately shoving his tongue into Yoongi's mouth as the elder throws his hands behind him and lets Jimin climb all over him.
His erection is throbbing at this stage, and the more Jimin grinds his hips, the harder it gets for Yoongi to keep his own hips from bucking up, but Jimin doesn't seem to mind at all, especially with the way he moans every time Yoongi rubs against him.
"Yoongi, have you...have you ever had sex?" Jimin whispers into his ear as they take a breather from all the kissing. Flushed, Yoongi bites his lips and shakes his head. Being a nineteen-year old virigin isn't a crime, but it certainly isn't something he brags about. Namjoon lost his when he was sixteen, and after hearing about all the gross details, Yoongi hadn't been interested in engaging in any sort of sexual activities.
Of course, it can be duly noted that this was before he met Park Jimin, and right now, Yoongi wonders if losing his virginity to Jimin is a bad idea. He certainly can't see any cons, but it's late and they're both a bit drunk off sleep and lust and the fact that Yoongi woke up hard.
"Have you ever had sex?" the question slips out of Yoongi's mouth without permission, but Jimin laughs into his neck before he nibbles at his ear.
"No, I've never had sex either." he whispers against the shell of his ear, and Yoongi shivers as Jimin grinds down, harder this time. "But that doesn't mean I'm not on for you fucking me now."
Christ, did Jimin really just say that?
Yoongi sucks in a breath as his throat runs dry and his heart rate increases by two-hundred percent.
And really, he wonders if he should say no. He's not experienced in this field, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt Jimin or give him a bad experience. However, surprisingly Jimin is about as clueless as he is about sex, so perhaps, they could learn together, which doesn't sound bad at all.
Because for the first time in his life, Yoongi wants something. He wants to feel, wants to feel every part of Jimin to be precise.
And if Jimin wants it too, then what's the harm in Yoongi doing something that he wants for once?
"Jimin," Yoongi sits up, pulling the blonde boy back into his lap as he gasps, their hard cocks straining against the fabric of their shorts. "I want you."
Jimin rests his forehead against Yoongi's, eyes serious. "Are you sure? I don't want to pressure you into doing something that you might regret."
Smiling, Yoongi kisses his cheek and places a hand under his jaw.. "I'm one-hundred percent positive that we should have sex." He tries to sound serious, but the sentence is probably the dirtiest thing he's ever said in his life, and it's kind of funny. Luckily, Jimin seems to find it humorous too, and he laughs before he takes off his shirt and suddenly Yoongi feels breathless again as his laughter stops and Jimin's toned chest is right in front of him.
"Lay back." Jimin orders, and Yoongi complies as Jimin falls on top of him, kicking his shorts off as he begins to kiss down Yoongi's neck, hands roaming underneath Yoongi's Nirvana t-shirt as the older boy squirms on the bed.
"Shh, I've got you."
Jimin pulls Yoongi's shorts down and squeezes his cock as the dark haired boy's breath catches in his throat. He moans, eyes widening as he smacks his hand over his mouth, colour flushing his cheeks. The blonde giggles, removing Yoongi's hand from his lips. "It's alright. I like it when you do that."
Slowly, he pulls down Yoongi's boxers, exposing his hard cock to the cool Summer air. He whines at the sensation, and when Jimin wraps his hand around the shaft, he moans, the sensation too much.
"Is this okay?" Jimin asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern as he languidly moves his hand up and down Yoongi's erection. "Just tell me to stop and I'll stop."
"N-No," Yoongi whimpers, fingers clutching the bedsheets beneath him. "k-keep going."
Pleased, Jimin smiles as he continues to pump him, eventually quickening the pace as Yoongi tries to remember how to breath.
Once again, everything feels hot and tight, and Yoongi wonders if it's too early to come, but then a new feeling is washing over him as Jimin sinks down on his cock with his mouth, sucking and swallowing as he takes Yoongi down his throat.
"Shit." Yoongi cries out, and Jimin laughs as he stop his actions.
"I think that's the first time I've heard you curse." he comments, and Yoongi's cheeks tinge pink. He opens his mouth to apologise, but then Jimin is sucking him off again, and every little thought inside Yoongi's head goes blank. Up and down, up and down, Jimin bobs his head without complaint, moaning as Yoongi gently wraps his fingers into his hair until Jimin stops completely, gasping before he pumps his own cock, making Yoongi swallow.
"Have you got any lube?" Jimin croaks out, throat probably a tad bit raw from his previous ministrations.
Yoongi wrings his hands together, refusing to meet Jimin's gaze.
"S-Second drawer of my bedside table." he says, voice barely above a whisper. It had been a nineteenth birthday present from Namjoon that had originally been a joke, and although Yoongi has never had to use it for actual sex, that doesn't mean he hasn't found other ways to use it.
Thankfully, Jimin doesn't question it, and he jumps off from the bed to retrieve it. By the time he returns, he's already poured some onto his fingers, and he's looking at Yoongi with shy eyes.
"I'm just gonna..." he trails off, biting his lip as he makes a thrusting gesture.
Yoongi nearly chokes on his own spit.
"Uh...yeah. I'll just..." he shuffles his hips so that he's sitting against his headboard, giving Jimin enough space to do what he has to do. Not wanting to be rude, he averts his eyes, but Jimin coughs, obviously trying to get his attention.
"You can watch me, you know. I don't mind." he says it nonchalantly, but there's a slight quiver in his voice that lets Yoongi know that he's nervous too.
"Don't hurt yourself." Yoongi mumbles, which is probably the most unattractive and un-seductive sentence he could possibly say right now, but hey he's new to this. Give him a break.
Without another word, Jimin slowly pushes one finger in, moaning as he shuts his eyes. It's so intimate and hot that Yoongi feels like an intruder watching such a private moment, but he can't take his eyes off of Jimin as he pushes the second finger in, pumping slowly as he continues to moan and gasp, mouth hanging open in pleasure.
"Y-Yoongi." he whines. "fuck, I can't wait to feel you inside me."
Yoongi bites his lip as a moan threatens to spill out of his lips.
Eventually he decides that he shouldn't watch anymore (he feels like a god damn voyeur) and he looks away, but not before he sees Jimin pushing a third finger into himself, and ouch, he wonders if it hurts.
It takes Jimin another few minutes to properly prep himself, but when it's over, he launches himself into Yoongi's lap, squirming and whining as he grinds his ass agsint Yoongi's painfully hard cock.
"O-Okay," he pants, kissing Yoongi on the lips. "I'm ready."
Yoongi nods silently and shuts his eyes, Jimin grabbing his cock and positioning himself so that it's lined up with his ass.
"Should we count?"
Yoongi nods again, afraid that his voice will fail him if he opens his mouth.
"One, two, three."
They don't talk after that, and if anyone were to ask later how Yoongi had felt in this exact moment, he wouldn't be able to answer them, because this sensation is something that words will never be able to describe.
All he can think about is Jimin, all that he can feel is Jimin. Everything in this moment is all about Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.
The rock of his hips, the quiet moans and gasps that escape his lips, Jimin does all the work for the two of them. They kiss a few times, and in these moments, Jimin slows his hips and rocks deeper into Yoongi as the older boy grips his hips tightly, afraid that if he lets go, Jimin will disappear.
Everything is quiet, but loud at the same time.
"Yoongi, I'm..I'm gonna come." Jimin gasps eventually, as he rocks his hips faster and faster, and Yoongi can feel it too, can feel the way the knots in his stomach are tightening, his cock pulsing too.
"C-Condom." Yoongi says all of a sudden, panicked. "We..didn't use a condom. I'll have to pull--"
"No, it's okay. We're both clean, right? We haven't done this before. We're fine."
"I want you, Yoongi. All of you."
Jimin surges forward and kisses Yoongi as he comes, the older following straight after him, eyes falling shut as he lets his orgasm take over.
They ride it out together until the pleasure dulls, and when it's all finished, and everything's cleaned up, Jimin curls up beside him as Yoongi stares up at the solar system on his ceiling.
"Come with us to the cliff tomorrow." Jimin whispers into the crook of Yoongi's neck.
"Us?" Yoongi asks, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"Seokjin, Taehyung; the whole gang." Jimin explains. "It'll be fun."
"Alright." Yoongi says it without thinking, and he might regret it in the morning, but the smile on Jimin's face is totally worth it.
"Promise?" Jimin sounds worried that Yoongi might change his mind. A promise is binding, and Yoongi rarely makes them, however, he's all on for trying. Especially if it means Jimin will keep smiling at him.
"Promise." he says softly, and Jimin seals the deal with a kiss.
Yoongi arrives at the foot of the hill walk towards the cliff fifteen minutes early, Aunty Gretchen’s classic picnic basket in his both of his hands. It’s a scorching hot morning, the sun burning as bright as ever, and not a single breeze disrupts the calm of the air. Beads of sweat have already started to build up on Yoongi’s forehead, and maybe the striped sweater was a bad idea, but he’s always been embarrassed at exposing too much of his bare skin.
He’s already beginning to panic about his attire, which isn’t a good sign, so Yoongi tries to count up in even numbers to calm himself down; a trick that his father taught him when he was little.
“Two, four, six, eight,” Yoongi mutters, focusing on a clump of moss growing on top of a stone. “ten, twelve, fourteen, sixteen.”
Anxious that he got the time wrong, Yoongi glances at his watch, a cold fear flooding his body as the time 12:11 blinks back at him mockingly. What if Jimin forgot all about the arrangement? Surely he would have texted him? But how could he? Yoongi and him never exchanged phone numbers because usually they tend to see each other around the house.
He’s beginning to wonder if they’ve decided to back out of the plan last minute. Maybe Jimin might appear in an hour, stating that his friends have no interest in hanging out for a full day with someone like Yoongi.
But just as he’s beginning to completely lose hope, the sound of car tyres scratching against cement fills the air, accompanied by DNCE’s ‘Cake by the Ocean’ that’s being horribly harmonized by screeching voices.
Ears pricking up like a dog, Yoongi stands on his tippy-toes as he squints into the distance, and sure enough, a very battered old car is spluttering and wheezing towards him; and is that Taehyung waving at him from the roof?
It’s quite a bizarre sight, five, tall boys crammed into a car much too small for them, yet they make it work in a way that Yoongi can’t describe. Seokjin is laughing hysterically in the driver’s seat while Jimin is singing along to the song in shotgun, Taehyung and Jungkook waving out the window as they yell at Hoseok to do a sexy dance on the roof.
Mesmerised, Yoongi doesn’t tear his eyes away from them, even as they arrive to a screeching halt at the foot of the cliff walk, all of them tumbling out the car with wind-swept hair and different variations of shorts and tank-tops on their bodies.
“Yoongi! You made it!” Jimin exclaims excitedly as he pushes his way towards said boy. He wraps his arms around his neck and leans in for a kiss, but then he stops, seeming to realise that they aren’t alone, so instead, he gives him a brief hug.
As always when it comes to Jimin, Yoongi feels the same blush creep up his neck and spread across his cheeks as he squeezes the boy back before they pull away. He holds up the picnic basket, eager to please.
“I hope you guys like ham and cheese sandwiches. I made a whole lot of them this morning. And Aunty Gretchen baked mini blueberry tarts.” he says, and Jimin beams at him.
“You didn’t have to.” he says softly, and Yoongi’s cheeks flush.
“I wanted to.” he says, and out of nowhere, Hoseok leaps into his arms, cooing. “Aw, shucks. Aren’t you just sweeter than a peach pie!” he gushes, and Jimin scowls as he pulls Hoseok away.
“He doesn’t want your greasy body all over him.” Jimin huffs, to which Hoseok takes no offence to whatsoever.
“Afraid that I’m gonna steal your boyfriend, Jiminnie?” he teases. Out of all of people in Jimin’s group, Hoseok has the strongest small town accent between them. A true Sycamore boy, born and raised in the provincial town.
Pushing Hoseok away again, Jimin mouths something that looks like “Sorry” over at Yoongi, before giving Hoseok a kick in the ass, which has the dark haired boy screeching as he darts away, rubbing his bottom and complain to Seokjin who’s patting sun cream onto his face.
“Hoseokkie is really funny most of the time, but he’s also a bit of pain,” Jimin says with a low chuckle as he shuffles his way towards Yoongi. “We love him, though. He has a heart of gold.”
“I see,” is all Yoongi says, and it isn’t a lie. He does like Hoseok. He always waves to him when he sees Yoongi around the house. Like all of Jimin’s friends do. He suddenly feels a little silly for thinking that they wouldn’t show up today.
“I’m really glad you came today.” Jimin says quietly, so that the others can't hear him, and well, time kind of slows down for Yoongi, because nobody has ever really told him that this is what happes when someone actually cares about you being there or not (and yes, Namjoon is technically the exception to this statement, but the difference here is, Namjoon isn’t Jimin).
"Well, I did promise." he replies, and Jimin giggles as he bats his eyelashes. Today he looks like a prince, with his light clothing and glowing skin.
“I made cupcakes too,” Yoongi mumbles quietly. He's gone all out for this occasion. It’s not very often that he’s invited out by people his own age, and wanting to impress Jimin and his friends, he had decided to bake treats, just like Aunty Grecthen does when she goes out with her cronies.
“I even decorated them myself this morning, look—“
“Yoongi,” Jimin says, cutting him off mid-sentence as the elder reaches for the flap to open the basket. “you don’t have to win them over. They like you already, silly.”
Butterflies and fireworks flutter and burst within Yoongi’s chest at Jimin’s kind words, and when Taehyung slings his arm around his shoulders, he wonders if perhaps there are some things in life that you can’t paint from imagination.
Perhaps, sometimes, you have to live to learn.
“C’mon, slowpokes. We wanna get to the cliff before the tide goes out.” Taehyung hoots into his ear, popping his sunglasses on.
“Race you to the top, Kookie!” he adds, detatching himself from Yoongi’s side before beginning to sprint up the hill, Jungkook speeding after him, cursing about how Taehyung always gets a head start.
And with everyone already racing ahead, Yoongi wonders if he’s ever going to be able catchup, but then a hand is tugging on his shirt, and kind pair of soft brown eyes are gazing into his own.
“Let’s walk together?” Jimin says, phrasing it nearly like a question, as if he’s afraid that Yoongi’s going to say no.
Deep down, Yoongi ponders over what he did in his past life to have the pleasure of knowing someone as sweet as Jimin.
“I’ll walk with you; but only if you carry the basket.” Yoongi says, holding the heavy item up in the air for Jimin to take.
“Deal.” Jimin says, almost stumbling over his own feet as he snatches the basket out of Yoongi’s hand, not even slumping as the extra weight is transferred over to his own body. “Are you ready?”
Yoongi looks ahead of him, at the way Seokjin is yelling at them to get moving, and how Taehyung and Jungkook are already a quarter of the way of the hill towards the cliff, while Hoseok is laughing and snapping pictures of them as if he’s their personal photographer.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” he replies easily.
And the first time in his life, Yoongi is.
The trek up the hill is a long and tough one, with lots of pot holes and uneven surfaces. Yoongi is drenched in sweat by the time he reaches the top, Jimin not sweating that much due to the fact that he rid himself of his tank top a long time ago (and it would be a lie to say that Yoongi’s throat didn’t dry up a lot when he got the chance to see Jimin’s toned chest in the sunlight, and no, he wasn’t turned on. He was just…excited at the prospect of seeing those abs again).
All the way up, Jimin had done his very best to keep Yoongi entertained, which resulted in the two of them swapping stories and playing a game of twenty questions. There’s a lot of things Yoongi already knows about Jimin, thanks to their late night conversations at the Pier or under his duvet, but at the same time, there’s a whole other side of Jimin that Yoongi is yet to discover. A side that’s funny and open, yet shy and hidden away.
Jimin despises mangoes, watches sunsets and loves dogs (especially Samwise Gamgee). He’s allergic to strawberries, he loves to dance, and when he was a kid, Taehyung dared him to limb a tree which resulted in the two of them breaking their arms together.
Overall, Yoongi thinks Jimin’s one of the seven wonders of the world, but is beyond confused as to why Jimin seems to be interested in him, because he’s far from interesting.
Growing up in the city, many people would expect you to have experienced everything under the sun, which Yoongi supposes is true for most people. Namjoon would be a prime example of that. He’s smoked, he’s vaped, he’s ripped out banisters from houses, he’s cycled around the city past midnight—he's basically done all the things that you’d see in teen movies from the eighties.
Yoongi, on the other hand, spends most of his nights in his apartment studying for exams and trawling through the internet looking for upcoming art exhibitions (Namjoon lives on campus at their college. Yoongi had had decided that he’d prefer to live in the privacy of his own place, despite Namjoon begging him to just try living in the dorms with him).
When he doesn’t have classes, he tends to practice different artistic techniques; sfumato, perspective, and sometimes he sculpts (but not a lot, he much prefers sketching). His dream is to open up his own exhibition in one of the top art museums in the city, but so far, he hasn’t had any luck (not that he’s submitted anything anywhere, but still, luck is supposed to be a huge factor when it comes to stuff like this, right?
He tells Jimin all of this, of course, and surprisingly, Jimin doesn’t tell him off for being anti-social like Namjoon usually does. Instead, he listens and absorbs Yoongi’s words as if he were a sponge.
The view on the cliff is just as every bit as spectacular as the others had described, and once again, Jimin has managed to show him something in Sycamore that Yoongi has never seen before in all his years of coming here. On the cliff, the grass is long and luscious. It brushes Yoongi’s knees as he wades through it, Jimin by his side as they share the weight of the picnic basket.
In the grass, all kinds of wildflowers grow; poppies, buttercups, daises and dandelions create splotches of colour throughout the cliff, and of course, the highlight of it all is the view of Sycamore itself, making the landscape look like something out of a dream.
“Incredible” Yoong breathes as he comes to a stop, not wanting to miss a single piece of the scenery around him. “How do you find all these new places?"
Jimn smiles before laughing, the sound echoing around them, filling the air with the music of happiness.
“Immense curiosity and a flair for the adventure in finding the Great Unknown.” he says in a matter-of-factly kind of tone.
“Taehyung likes to think of it as our groups’ secret space, but it was actually my mom and your aunt who first discovered this place.”
“Here?” Yoongi exclaims. “Aunty Gretchen knows about here?” he can’t help but feel slightly betrayed about the fact that his Aunty hidden such a beautiful place away from him.
“I can’t believe she never told me.”
Jimin hums in thought. “People in life tend to hide the things that are important to them. They like to keep their discoveries to themselves, unless you’re an explorer of the sixteenth century who only wanted riches and fame. Humans can be selfish creatures, you know.”
On the surface, the comment is realtively normal, but Yoongi knows that Jimin’s words carry the weight of a hidden meaning. It feels like the more he gets to know Jimin, the more complex the boy is becoming. He’s rather like a jigsaw as opposed to being the open book that Yoongi had first portrayed him as.
“Are you two just going to stand there and stare at us? Or are you going to help me set up our picnic?” Seokjin yells from a few metres away. His voice bursts the bubble that the two boys had bult around them, and for some reason, Yoongi feels mildly disappointed.
Without another word, the two of them walk over to where Seokjin is wrestling with a plaid green and yellow picnic blanket. “It just won’t stay on the ground straight for me!” he complains, and Yoongi volunteers to help while Jimin announces he’s going cliff jumping with Jungkook and Taehyung.
Shy, but not scared, Yoongi takes two corners of the blanket while Seokjin takes the other two. They lay it down on the ground together, and when it lands perfectly, Seokjin claps his hands together.
“Finally! Now let’s get this show on the road.”
The two of them get to work, setting out the food and the plates carefully while the younger boys strip into their swimming trunks as Hoseok snaps more photos of the scenery. It’s nice, Yoongi thinks. Hanging out with a large group of friends is actually turning out to be less intimidating than he had originally thought.
“You alright there, sweet cheeks? You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” a soothing voice says, interrupting his thoughts rather abruptly. Yoongi blinks as Seokjin comes into focus. He’s setting up a plate of Yoongi’s homemade sandwiches.
“Sorry, I was just…I erm…I zone out a lot.” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head.
“Yeah, Jiminnie mentioned you do that a lot.” Seokjin laughs. It’s lighthearted, a laugh that isn’t Seokjin laughing at him. He’s laughing with him.
“Hey Yoongi!” Jimin calls from behind him. “Are you gonna watch us jump?”
Yoongi turns around and nearly chokes on his own saliva, because Jimin is waving and smiling at him in nothing but a pair of swimming trunks. And wow, he truly is breathtaking, with his fluffy blonde hair and his toned chest and his soft brown eyes.
And that god damn feeling is rushing back to him now, the one that comes with butterflies fluttering in his chest and the feeling as if he’s just drank ten litres of energy drinks.
“Go on,” Seokjin says softly, and Yoongi jumps, having forgotten the older boy had been standing behind him. “I’ll finish setting everything up.”
As if he were sleep walking, Yoongi walks in baby steps to where the three boys stand, all of them peeking over the edge at the water below. The drop is big, but it isn’t something that would injure you, especially on such a calm day like this one.
“Yoongi! Do you want to jump with us?” Jungkook asks excitedly as Yoongi finally reaches them. The older boy shakes his head shyly, biting his lips as he feels Jimin’s eyes burning into him.
“Maybe next time.” the blonde says, filling the gaps for him as he stretches his arms above his head. “Taehyung, are you going first?” he adds, but the younger boy shakes his head.
“You go first.” he says it like a little kid, but acting like a kid seems to be one of Taehyung’s personality traits, which is funny. Usually childish people tend to annoy Yoongi, but Taehyung's childish nature is charming.
“Fine, fine, I’ll go first.” Jimin huffs. He flashes Yoongi a grin before he takes five steps back and begins to sprint.
He jumps off the cliff, head first, with his arms spread wide like an eagle. Down, down, down, he falls, and Yoongi holds his breath, heart beating fast inside his chest in panic because; what if something goes wrong? He’s read plenty of stories online of how currents sweep people away or how high tides can hide sharp rocks that can kill you if you fall on top of them.
Jimin hits the water with an almost silence splash. Foamy waves of water obscure him from the onlookers on the surface, and Yoongi’s anxiety has reached its’ highest point.
“Hey,” Hoseok places a hand on his back. “he’s going to be fine. Trust me.”
Yoongi can’t find it in himself to reply. His tongue feels swollen and his throat is dry.
But sure enough, just like Hosoek had assured, Jimin bursts through the surface of the water and waves up at them, and Yoongi can just make out a smirk on his glowing face. Beside him, Hoseok snaps a photo and whistles loudly. “Our Jiminnie’s such a work of art, don’t you think?”
“He’s…he’s better than that.” It slips out before he can help himself. Hoseok raises an eyebrow at him.
“A masterpiece.” Yoongi says softly as Jimin splashes around below. “He’s a masterpiece.”
Hoseok laughs and Taehyung mumbles something incoherent, but Yoongi doesn’t care. If he’s the only one who thinks that the boy splashing about below them is a masterpiece, then so be it.
And besides, Yoongi doesn’t mind being the only one.
Not a little.
Not at all.
Twilight is falling by the time they return to the bottom of the cliff, the picnic basket noticably lighter, and Yoongi is way more tanned than he’s ever been in his life. He thinks he likes it, albeit, Jimin looks ten times better, not that he’d voice this opinion out loud, but it’s the thought that counts.
Seokjin offers him a ride in his jeep with them; they’re all heading the lodge anyway, and it’d be dumb to let Yoongi walk by himself. Not having much of an option, he ends up sitting in the open-topped back with Jimin, both of them sitting side by side, bare shoulders touching as they watch the sun disappear and the moon rise.
They don’t say anything. There’s no need, and the rhythmic thrum of the engine makes Yoongi’s eyes feel heavy. Twelve hours of exploring The Great Unknown can do that to you.
Somewhere on the journey back, Jimin manages to make a pillow out of Yoongi’s lap, but he doesn’t mind all that much. Seeing Jimin sleeping so peacefully, it’s a beautiful sight. He runs his fingers through the younger’s blonde waves until the truck comes to a stop, and Jimin shifts in his lap, roused from his slumber.
Aunty Gretchen makes skewered fish and roast potatoes for dinner, piling three skewers on Yoongi’s plate even though he assures her that one is plenty. She disagrees, and this only results in him getting a fourth skewer that ends up being fed to Samwise Gamgee under the table, which makes Jimin giggle.
As twilight turns into night, Taehyung and Jungkook retire to the living room to watch old horror movies, Hoseok goes up to his room to catch up on a Summer project for school, and Seokjin announces that he’s going to catch up on writing letters to his friends and family.
Jimin tells everyone he’s tired, and that he’s going to go to bed, but Yoongi sees right through the lie, and at ten past eleven, Jimin is tapping on the sliding door of his balcony, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a loose tank top.
Amused, but not surprised, Yoongi slides the door open as Jimin rests his arm against the doorframe.
“Hi there.” Jimin says quietly, and damn, he’s still as stunning as ever. It makes Yoongi’s heart want to burst straight out of his chest and fly away into heaven.
“Hullo.” Yoongi says, still somewhat shy even after everything that’s gone on between them. He supposes that it’s just in his nature and he can’t really help it, but if he could hazard a guess, he’d say that no man or woman would ever be able to feel confident in front of Park Jimin. He just has that effect on people.
“Can I come in?” Jimin asks, leaning so that their noses bump.
Yoongi bites his lip.
“Depends. What are you planning on doing if you’re allowed in?”
At this, Jimin taps his chin in mock thought before switching his backpack’s position so it sits on his chest instead of his front. "I have a few things in mind."
He rummages around in the bag, pulling out The Great Gatsby as he waves in front of Yoongi's face, a smirk spreading across his lips.
"I had planned on finishing this book tonight," he says innocently, using his free hand to dig around in his backpack again. He comes up with a small bottle of lube this time, an item that makes Yoongi's heart leap into his mouth. "but then there's also this."
With half-lidded eyes, he removes his bag and holds up the two items in his hands, as if he's weighing them out, testing to see which one is better than the other other.
"What do you think, hm?" he asks, voice lustful.
And really, Yoongi doesn't have to say anything. He doesn't have to because Jimin already knows what Yoongi knows too. So when the book drops to the floor and Yoongi pulls Jimin onto his bed, it's no surprise to anyone really.
"Touch me." Jimin whispers as they pull apart, chests heaving. "Shit, Yoongi, do whatever you want. I'm yours."
Perhaps Jimin's words had really meant something in that moment, something a lot deeper that Yoongi is yet to understand, and when it's all over, their naked bodies and bare legs tangling together under the warmth of Yoongi's thin duvet, the heaviness of the blonde's statement weighs like an titanium anchor in his mind. He ponders over asking the younger about it, when he finally decides to just man up and do it, finds Jimin engrossed in his book, determined to finish it before fatigue settles over him.
Not wanting to ruin the moment, Yoongi chooses to hold back. He'd hate to ruin a perfectly good night.
"You alright, sweetheart?" Jimin asks with a smile, keeping his eyes on his book. "I can feel your eyes on me."
Yoongi nods softly, shifting his position so that he's tucked into Jimin's side, his face nuzzling into the blonde's neck.
"I'm good." he says, just in case Jimin didn't see his nod, and Jimin laughs as he puts down his book and kisses Yoongi's forehead.
"I'm nearly finished, then we can cuddle and get some sleep. I've gotta be up at sunrise tomorrow. Seokjin needs help fixing up Gretchen's shed." He runs his fingers through Yoongi's hair before kissing him once more. "I can meet you at the Pier at around noon if you want."
"I'd like that." he replies softly, and Jimin hums, pleased. He picks up his book and resumes reading it, Yoongi still pressed up against him with his face buried in his neck. Peaches and sea salt; the scent still lingers on his skin, despite everything his body has been through tonight.
It's been close to a month since Yoongi has come to Sycamore, and things have certainly been different compared to all his previous Summers here. Between midnight rendezvous, jumping off of Piers, hiking up cliffs and losing his virginity to a boy with a sweet laugh and a beautiful face, everything has changed for Yoongi, for the barrier of protection he has built around himself for nineteen years is beginning to crumble down.
Of course, there's still a strange feeling in his heart that's telling him there's a storm coming, but for now, he'll ignore it, because for the first time in his life, things are working out.
For now, at least.