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Jimin couldn’t keep the waver from his own breathing. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, that he’d actually considered it enough that he was getting ready to do what could easily equate to one of the –– if not the –– most reckless decision of his natural born existence. The possibility had lingered in the back of his mind for months now, and it was time.

He had to remind himself that it was inevitable at this point.

Inevitable and he shouldn’t be nervous because he couldn’t be more careful if he tried.

Still, as Jimin applied a loose veil of makeup over his face, styling up his hair and checking for the hundredth time that the simple outfit he’d literally just purchased an hour ago of a white t-shirt and tight black pant looked good, Jimin couldn’t help but consider maybe walking out of the bathroom and heading to Namjoon’s room rather than the front door of their apartment. Go to Namjoon and just come clean about all of it, every last piece of every single thing that had served to torment him for years. Namjoon would know what to do.

And, more importantly, Namjoon would probably talk him out of this.

He’d probably crack some of his ‘high and mighty wisdom’ and say the things Jimin already knew, like it was his first time and that should be special. Or that this was still risky and he could get caught. Or that, hooking up with stranger wasn’t safe. 

You know those typical pills of wisdom that Jimin was choosing to ignore.

But the prospect of going to Namjoon’s room only to announce that which he’d kept so closely hidden only made the already present anxiety spike. And, no. He wasn’t ready for that. He couldn’t do that.

Because Namjoon was accepting, yeah. But it was easy to look at a group of their fans and say that they were okay with that lifestyle. It would be a lot harder to live with someone who was on that path to discovery. It would be so much worse to have your career dependent on it never coming out. Because –– god –– if Jimin messed up, he could hurt all of BTS, couldn’t he? He could destroy everything.

He gripped the sink to calm his breathing, gripped it until the edges dug painfully into his palms and he felt like he might just start crying.

Only Taehyung knew. And Jimin had to keep it that way. Had to make sure none of the other members found out until he was one thousand percent certain. And he couldn’t reach that level of clarity without testing it out, right?

That’s why he was doing this.

To be sure.

And because it had been so very long since he’d had a release, and sue him, he wanted to cum at the hands of another human and not himself for once.

Jimin clapped the foundation container closed, taking one more deep breath before pushing the simple black jacket over his arms. He had gotten his clothes from a cheap retail store, really trying to find something as inconspicuous as possible, something even their most hardcore fans wouldn’t be able to recognize from previous outings. He zipped it up to his neck and put up the hood, carefully placing the facemark over his mouth and nose and snatching the sunglasses.

It was well past midnight, and wearing sunglasses was probably a hundred times more suspicious than just not. But Jimin couldn’t risk anyone recognizing him. Not now. He tiptoed from the bathroom, flipping off the light as he glanced down the hallways at his bandmates bedrooms. 

His eyes landed on them middle one, the one currently housing one Kim Seokjin and one Min Yoongi.

What would Yoongi-hyung think if he knew?

Jimin sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and turned away, walking to the front door and slipping out. He left out the back, walked aimlessly through the streets until he was certain no one was following, then headed off to the club, the hidden fruit of Seoul: InvisibleColors.

What would they think if they knew? Jimin wondered.

What would they think if they knew he was hiding there of all places?

What would they think if they knew Jimin was gay?


Yoongi felt like a garbage human being. 

He entered the doors of InvisibleColors and felt his own disgust with everything he was doing pulse through his limbs like a virus in his blood. But it didn’t stop him from turning to the area located just beside the door where black lighting concealed everyone’s identity, (while making Yoongi’s white hair glow against the black hood of his hoody. 

He’d been here enough times by now, he knew the routine. He traded his jacket over the counter for a number (one that glowed neon orange) into his pocket. He also picked up one of the masks from the shelving area, his a simple black one with a pointed nose this time, and pulled it over his face. The black plastic fell down past his cheeks, covering more skin than most of the others. He grunted in his own satisfaction and finally removed the cloth face mask from over his lips.

Running his hand through his hair he pushed from the front room into the rest of the club.

He learned after his first visit that the absolute best thing to do upon first walking in was to hold your goddamn breath. 

The black lighting continued into this part of the club, though more sources of light from the walls to the seating (all shining various hues of neon) provided more illumination than was present in the first room.

And then there was the color dust.

It got thrown around at the entrance, both by the fans that would spray it out every so often, and by the people dancing by the entrance, grabbing handfuls from the tubs lining the wall to throw on themselves and at each other.

Another thing Yoongi learned during his first visit –– don’t wear clothes you like or ever want to wear again.

The dust, colored neon in every shade imaginable, quickly over took his clothes, his hair, his exposed skin. And Yoongi, despite hating the way it felt, let it.

Because that was the point of this club.

To become invisible in the mass of people. In the color and the lights with the masks every one wore.

You came to InvisibleColor to disappear, to get what you wanted without any consequences.

Yoongi knew he wasn’t the only idol frequenting the place, didn’t let him consider who else from all of the award shoes and meetings might be in the very crowd he was moving through just then, all looking for a release, maybe a quick fuck, maybe just a safe place to get trashed.

A girl grabbed Yoongi’s arm, tugging to pull him into the spot where she was dancing. Yoongi just shook his head, holding up a hand over the loud thrum of the music. She let go with a shrug, continuing to grind in the crowd, her black mask designed to look like a bird’s face.

She was pretty, yeah.

But there was only one reason Yoongi would intentionally wonder into such a loud and obnoxious venue and that was to get something he literally couldn’t get anywhere else.

And that was the chance to swing the way he naturally did –– and that was not in the direction of females.

Yoongi pressed back to the back wall, letting his pulse thrum to a calm beat as he took in the many different bodies around him, tried not to stare too intently at the two girl basically devouring each other on the bar stood just beside him.

Where else in Korea could you get away with that behavior?

Yoongi breathed in the scent of sweat and dust that perpetrated the air like a veil falling over the garage-like interior, breathed in the smell of hundred of people just as desperate and lonely as him, feeling the cold concrete of the wall on his back.

We’re all sinners down here, aren’t we?

It shouldn’t have been comforting, shouldn’t have eased away the guilt tearing away at his insides that Yoongi was here instead of at home in his room with Seokjin snoring beside him, at home with his bandmates –– with his family –– enjoying their exceptionally rare night when the next morning they could just sleep in.

But instead he was here, trying to beat down the tension that had been suffocating him the past few days.

And it was entirely Jimin’s fault.

Yoongi smiled softly at the thought, because Jimin had done nothing wrong –– when had that kid ever done anything wrong in Yoongi’s eyes? –– but Jimin had been Jimin and somehow that was enough to cause this entire predicament.

You see, they were preparing for an award show in a couple weeks, an award show where they were taking on a ten minute segment of just them, up there, dancing to their old and new songs, and that meant dance practice. Lots and lots of dance practice.

And Jimin, well, Jimin had been really into it lately. His focused gaze and fluid movements and the intense way he’d roll up and grind down and Yoongi was a mess of knotted up feelings and all of the regret.

Because Jimin was gorgeous on a normal day, but when he was dancing like that, Yoongi couldn’t breathe.

And it had been days of that, days of Jimin slicked in sweat, intense as always, moving to a beat in a way Yoongi didn’t think he could manage if he spent the rest of his life dedicated to it. And earlier that same day when Jimin had held Yoongi’s wrists to help him get the timing on a move right, the twist in his chest had just become too much.

He needed to be here, he tried to reason with himself.

Because Jimin was eight thousand percent off limits. And Yoongi could feel himself getting more pent up, more reckless –– and that could not happen.

So he was here, at this stupid club that actually held a soft spot in Yoongi’s awareness of the world. This stupid club to find someone who looked enough like Jimin that for one glorious hour he could just pretend, could just get it all out and go back home and be the good Hyung he was struggling to badly to be lately.

And that whole concept made Yoongi feel like absolute shit.

What would Jimin think if he knew Yoongi got off to him? If Yoongi was here now? Pretending some random guy was him?

God, he’d probably hate Yoongi forever.

Yoongi almost hated Yoongi.

He’d tried to make excuses at the beginning. Tried to rationalize to ease his own conscious. But, in the end, that had only left him feeling a million times worse. So, he was owning up to it. He was a shit person and an ever shittier Hyung, but he was doing this so that he could be less shit of a person and less shit of a Hyung so that he and Jimin could still have a relationship outside of his pathetic pining and wanting and despising the world for being so unfair.

He’d rather rot in this club then ever do anything to compromise his and Jimin’s relationship. Which was, in itself, most of the reason why Yoongi would never act on his pathetic, suffocating, ridiculous crush on the younger boy. The rest of the reason is he didn’t feel like single-handedly ruining all seven of their careers. 

Life was so fucking unfair.

But at least he had this club and a simple way to release it all at once.

The masks, the colors, the dim lighting –– it made it all a lot easier to pretend, pretend whoever he ended up with was the one he actually wanted to be with. And his first few times he’d come here, he would even pretend that he wasn’t pretending his hookups weren’t his bandmate. But the denial got hard to keep up with and now he’s here, embracing all of his shiftiness for what it was and looking for someone to fill in the missing piece of his imagination.

Yoongi never really expected to find such a careful match.

The boy’s white t-shirt was positively stained with a whole array of vibrant colors, he looked almost breathless as he took in the scenes around him. Someone had dumped what looked like an entire bucket of yellow dust over his head, making every strand on the boy’s head look the color of a banana as he fidgeted with the black mask on his face, simple like Yoongis, only it had more a rounded shape to the edges.

Yoongi straightened as he watched the boy fiddle with his fingers, glancing around uncertainly.

He looked shockingly like Jimin. Especially his lips.

That was usually the detail that threw Yoongi off with others. Even if they were short enough, thick enough (good god) and made the right pitch of sounds, the lips would always be just different enough to be a constant reminder that his fantasy was simply a fantasy (and, of course, that he was still a shit human being). 

Yoongi was moving forward, eager to reach the boy before someone else did. With an ass like that, it was probably dumb luck that someone else hadn’t already made a move.

The thrum of the beat was loud, abusively so; so when Yoongi’s fingers brushed the young boy’s shoulder, his mouth falling open as he jolted, Yoongi couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at the cry that had been lost in the sound.

“Sorry,” Yoongi raised his voice, leaning in as close as he could without crossing any boundaries. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

The kid was blinking up at him, lips parted in a bit of shock as he took him in. Yoongi hoped that was a good sign.

After a long pause, the boy snapped out of whatever thoughts were holding him in such shock, shaking his head as he turned to Yoongi. “It’s okay. Sorry, I’m just jumpy.”

“First time here?” Yoongi called again, hating how loud he had to raise his voice to be heard.

The boy nodded, chancing another glance around.

In the boy’s thin shirt, Yoongi could see how fast his chest was rising and falling.

Yoongi was planning on playing it smooth. He leaned his arm to the wall, making himself a bit taller over the boy than he actually was as he phrased, “What are you looking for around here?” While still keeping a respectable distance. Yoongi wasn’t going to assume.

But as the words were leaving his mouth, the boy asked his own question, “Are you gay?”

Yoongi halted in his own shock at the forwardness, blinking down at the boy who stared up at him in turn.

Yoongi straightened from the wall, coughing into his hand as he nodded, “Uh, yeah. You?” He shoved his hands into his pockets.

The boy nodded, movements jerky. And, god, the kid must be so nervous. “Think so.”

Yoongi didn’t so much hear the words as he saw them be formed, he narrowed his gaze at the boy. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. The kid seemed anxious as hell and Yoongi wasn’t sure he was equipped to deal with that.

“Do you wanna dance?” The boy asked then, hands still twisting together.

“I don’t really dance,” Yoongi answered.

“Oh,” the boy’s shoulders slouched inward, he stared down, still twisting his hands together.

“But,” Yoongi carefully wrapped his fingers around the boy’s wrist, pulling to make him stop fiddling with his fingers.

The boy looked up at him.

“I know something else we could do, something more fun.”

“Yeah?” The nervousness seemed to release in an actual sigh of relief, the boy smiling at him.

Okay, maybe he could do this. “Wanna make out?”

The boy bobbed his head in a nod.

Cute, Yoongi thought as he moved to stand facing the bay, gently pushing him back until the boy’s spine hit the concrete of the wall. The boy sucked in a breath, chest moving up and down rapidly. And Yoongi would be inclined to maybe pull away, let the boy catch his breath, calm down maybe, but hands were wrapping around his neck, pulling him close, so impossibly close and their lips were meeting before Yoongi could really think twice about it.

The boy kissed unsure, a gentle peck more than anything else, but he held it, pressed it against Yoongi’s lips and Yoongi almost laughed at thee inexperience, but in an endeared way. He let his grip slip to the boys hips, let his thumb brush under the fabric of the ruined white shirt and took the lead, pressing back, lips pulling against the boys top lip, sinking to the bottom, sucking in again. He broke the kiss only to press back, tongue slipping to part the boys lips.

He swallowed the gasp the boy let out as the hands tightened around his neck, tightened and pushed their chests flush together.

Yoongi was leading the kiss, but the boy was letting him.

So when the boy gave a small grind, pressing their crotches together, Yoongi let him lead that part. 

The boy’s lips attached to his neck as Yoongi glanced up to catch his breath. This was good –– better than he could’ve hoped for. When the boy moved back up to attach their lips, Yoongi released his hips, crowding the boy to the wall with his own body, feeling every inch of his warmth through their clothes; pressed him in and moved to reconnect their mouth in an open mouthed kiss, swallowing the gasp Yoongi felt more than heard as he basked in whatever sound the boy made that seemed to vibrate against where his lips held the others.

When their teeth clanked as mouths met again, Yoongi cupped the boys face with one hand, holding to his side with the other to ground himself, because the young boy was gyrating his hips against Yoongi’s crotch in a way that should’ve been positively illegal.

Yoongi vaguely considered whether or not he should ask whether the boy topped or bottomed, only to realize he could not care less and would literally take either at this point. So instead, his pants painfully tight, Yoongi pulled back, taking in the quiver in the boys legs, the swollen pink of his lips, and the breathless stutter of his chest to lean in close to his ear and propose, “Should we get a room?”


Chapter Text

Why did he look so much like Yoongi?

Jimin was staring. Couldn’t help himself as the older male –– Was he older? Jimin had gotten one look at him an automatically switched to speaking formally. Better safe than sorry. –– leaned over the counter of the bar to request a room in the back. He handed over cash in exchange for an obnoxiously ancient looking key before falling from his tiptoes back to the flats of his feet.

Cash! Why hadn’t Jimin thought of that? He couldn’t use his credit card here. What a way to get caught. Luckily this guy existed. Next time, he told himself, he’d bring cash.

The simple observation was a welcome distraction, because Jimin was positively flushing down to the collarbones because he had been blatantly staring at the guy up until the simple notion of cash passed his awareness. 

Why did he look so much like Yoongi?

Like, he obviously wasn’t, Jimin rationalized. Yoongi wasn’t gay. Jimin almost laughed at the thought. And maybe if he took off the mask he’d look nothing like his bandmate, but standing there, just the right height, just the right build with a facial structure that was undeniably similar, even in the dull lighting, Jimin was enamored –– and devastatingly confused.

Because why did he look like Yoongi?

And why did that make Jimin feel better about this whole thing?

He felt more at ease the moment his brain had pieced together the similarities, felt his pulse calming and the panicked breathing dissipate slightly. The panic had returned tenfold when he realized that he was going to be kissing the boy that looked like his hyung, and he’d half expected it to be the weirdest experience ever.

But it wasn’t.

It had actually been the single greatest make out session of his life.

And now they were going to sleep together.

And that thought didn’t make him uncomfortable… it made him really fucking nervous, made his stomach feel like it was knotting itself in an untenable mess, made a rush of heat travel up his stomach –– made his pants feel really tight, but not uncomfortable, which was already so much more than he was expecting from this whole experience. 

The Yoongi lookalike wrapped his fingers to Jimin’s wrist, pulling him from the main area of the club to the darkened hallway accessible through a doorless opening in the furthest corner. The blacklight’s died out to be replaced with black painted walls and a faint purple light drifting from random fixtures pressed in the wall, to the ceiling, and in the corners. The wooden doors on the side reminded Jimin of those that he’d expect to find in an old mansion, not a club. He took a deep breath, quickening his pace so that the Yoongi lookalike wasn’t so much dragging him behind as they were walking together. 

Room eighteen stared at Jimin like a looming omen.

Jimin took a shaky breath as his wrist was released as the other male unlocked the door.

He glanced back at Jimin, speaking, voice no longer muffled by the insane volume of the music still pulsing at a distance. “You sure?”

Jimin nodded, taking the initiative to step into the room.

The door closed behind them, the lock sounding a moment later.

Purple, diamond-printed wallpaper stretched over the walls, the small room containing little more than the queen sized bed draped in crimson sheets and the simple bed-side table with a circular lamp, a deep orange glow illuminating the other-wise dark room, but just barely. Someone had taken spray paint to the walls and Jimin wouldn’t be surprised if it was the venue owners to keep up the obscure look of the whole place. On the wall facing the bed in red paint were the words:

Follow the three rules:

  1. Use protection
  2. Keep your identity hidden
  3. Have fun

The red dripped down the wall in an uncanny manner and Jimin gulped at the sight of it.

A hand nudged his arm and he turned to the other boy.

“You good?” The gruff voice muttered.

Jimin nodded.

The guy nodded once in turn.

Music thrummed through the walls still, seeming to shake the very foundation of the club they stood in, but it was still quieter in this room, quiet enough that they didn’t need to shout, which Jimin was grateful for.

“What should I call you?” Jimin turned to the other male.

“Whatever you want, I guess,” he sat down on the bed with all the confidence of someone who had done this before.

Jimin felt out of his element.

“Hyung?” Jimin tried, a small cringe on his face as he offered up the possibility.

The boy shifted, nodding. “Yeah,” but his voice was tighter than it had been a moment ago. “Call me Hyung.”

Jimin smiled, stepping closer.

The boys fingers wrapped to the edge of Jimin’s pants, tugging him between their legs and Jimin sucked in a breath. “Can I call you baby?”

Jimin trembled under the grip holding his hips, nodding.

“Top or bottom?” The boy asked next, hands snaking from Jimin’s hips to cup over the curves of his ass and Jimin was melting.

“W-what?” He muttered out.

The boy sneered a laugh, dropping his head, pink dust fluttering from the strands of his hair.

“Top or bottom?” He repeated. “Please tell me you know what that means.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin straightened, grabbing the older’s (he was just going to assume he was older and roll with it) shoulders to keep his shaking legs from toppling him over. “Um, I don’t actually know. You pick,” he said.

“You don’t know?” The older pressed.

“I’ve never really done this before?” Jimin admitted.

“Have sex with a stranger in a club? Or have sex in general?” Even behind the mask, Jimin could see him narrowing his gaze, grip faltering from where it held Jimin’s hips.

“First one,” Jimin nodded, trying to save the situation, but then his own damned honesty got the best of him. “And gay sex. Never really done that either.”

“Oh,” the older said, tugging his lip between his teeth, grip slipping away.

“But,” Jimin rushed to say. “I want to. Really want to.”

The boy chuckled at Jimin’s eagerness, grip returning to Jimin’s butt. “Yeah?”

Jimin nodded.

“It will probably be easier on you if you top, bottoming’s work. Plus you’ll be sore as shit in the morning. But ––,” the boy’s face grimaced slightly as he seemed to decide against saying the next thing.

“But?” Jimin pressed, moving closer into the space between them.

The boy looked up, teeth sinking into his lips again. 

“You’ve got a nice ass,” the boy said simply.

Jimin laughed nervously. “I’m not a complete gay virgin. I’ve done stuff to myself before.”

The boy arched his brow.

And, god, if he didn’t have a mask on he’d probably die from having said that out loud.

“I can bottom.”

“You’ll still be sore,” he warned.

“That’s okay. I don’t have any plans tomorrow.”

“Lucky you,” the older said, falling back against the mattress and tugging Jimin with him.

Jimin’s knee pressed up to the mattress to keep him from colliding with the older. Arms shooting out to brace himself on either side of the older boys head. He gasped at their proximity, trying not to let his heart plummet the way it did at the lazy smirk on the older’s lips.

“You ready, baby?”

Jimin nodded, sifting until his hips were pressed against the older's.

He looked up, teeth sinking into his bottom lip again and Jimin moved down, tugging the boys lips free from his teeth with his own, before capturing his lips in a tight kiss. The sharp sound their mouths made at parting made it over the thrum of the music and Jimin was ready, so ready –– wanted more and wanted it now.

“You’ve done this before, right?” Jimin broke away to ask.

“Yes, baby,” the guy teased with the pet name.

“Good,” Jimin sat up, straddling the older hips as he looked around. “Do you know where the lube is?”

The guy laughed, head falling back. “God, you’re lucky I’m prepared cause you sure as hell aren’t.”

The older lifted his hips, knocking Jimin off balance as he fell to one side of him as the older dug into his back pocket to pull out three packets very similar looking to those found in ramen containers.

Two were shaped like rectangles, the third like a square.

The boy dropped them onto the bed and sat up, stealing Jimin’s attention from the contents of his pocket to tug him into a kiss.

Jimin really liked kissing this guy.

Maybe it was just the act of kissing a guy, but it had never felt like this when kissing any of the girl’s he had. Had never made him so desperate to keep the movements going, so desperate that he’d reluctantly pull away for air only when he felt like his lungs might burst.

Jimin gasped as rough hands tugged Jimin back into the older’s lap, sitting up so that Jimin was literally straddling his lap, sitting taller than the older so that the older had to look up to meet their lips. The position made it so that their crotches pressed against each other and Jimin didn’t even try to not grind against the older, rocking his hips back and forth as he muttered a stuttered, “H-hyung,” into his mouth.

The older positively growled, hands snacking under Jimin’s shirt, ridding up the white material as he traced over the curves of the boys stomach up to the nipples and then to his shoulders. Holding up the shirt, the older broke away to press kisses against the exposed skin, tugging at the shirt afterwards and demanding a, “Off.”

Jimin nodded, rushing to comply as the material came off over his head, dropping it to the ground without a care as he kissed the older’s lips, grabbing at the edge of his black shirt. With a roll of his eyes, the older leaned back to help him get it off and then Jimin was reaching for his pants.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

Jimin didn’t even try to deny it, just nodded his head as he slid from the older legs to the ground where he knelt as his trembling fingers tugged the belt free, undoing the button, tugging down the zipper and yanking the material down.

The head of the older’s dick peaked out from the top of his underwear at the motion and Jimin groaned at how fucking horny that made him.

The older sat, resting his weight on his palms as he looked down at Jimin.

Jimin tugged the pants free from the older ankle, reaching with trembling fingers for his dick that was staring at Jimin, all the while thinking with a breathless laugh: gay. gay. yep. definitely gay. one thousand percent. i am gay.

Fingers curled around Jimin’s wrist before he could reach the older’s underwear.

Jimin looked up, having the audacity to pout.

The older stuttered a laugh. “First,” he waved his other finger at Jimin. “Pants off.”

Jimin nodded, standing on shaking legs to undo his own buttons, before he could yank them down, arms were wrapping around him, keeping just under his butt and he was pulled forward. Lips met his stomach in a way that made his breath falter. Lips traveled lower, connecting just over the waist band of his pants as long fingers gently tugged the material down, lips following to trace from below his belly bottom, down that expanse of skin.

Jimin held his breath as the older gave a discernible tug that made material catch over his cock, the touch quickly replaced by lips as the older kissed him through his underwear.

Jimin made a breathless sound, knees caving forward, catching on the mattress as the older’s face became level with his neck rather than his penis. The older looked at him. 

“That sensitive?” He said where he held him up.

Jimin just nodded.

“Perfect,” the older bit at his own tongue as he rolled Jimin over, guiding him to lie on the mattress as he stood to lean over and tug his pants down the rest of the way, crawling back onto the bed to sit on his knees.

Jimin remembered his original intentions quickly at that motion and sat up to crawl over, kneeling in front of the boy before leaning down between his legs, gripping the older thigh for balance as his other hand tugged the older free from his underwear.

The older made a hissing sound.

“I’ve,” Jimin looked up. “Never really done this before, so,” he took a deep breath, “bare with me.”

Hands traced over his back, over his spine. “You’ll do fine, don’t worry, baby.”

Jimin shuddered at the pet name. It was too easy to imagine that word falling from Yoongi’s lips. God, he wondered how it would sound in his Daegu accent.

That thought had him flushing red, an incomprehensible mix of guilt and desire twisting in his gut. Jimin latched his lips onto the head of the older male’s cock to push thoughts of Yoongi aside, because it was not the time to go down that rabbit hole.

Jimin had never really done this before, but he’d watched porn. So he had the general idea, feeling the stretch in his lips as he pushed the member further into his mouth, but he still felt clumsy in his actions, felt even more inexperienced when he couldn’t quite get it in far enough, not nearly as far as they got it in the videos, his own throat betraying him.

So he kept to sucking at the top, tracing his tips down the sides as the older’s fingers tangled in his hair.

Fans had made some… interesting comments in tweets and the like over Jimin’s lips and what they might be able to do. A strange part of him hoped he was doing those comments justice in this moment. Hoped his partner was enjoying it as much as his groans suggested he was.

Jimin was tugged up a moment later, lips catching over his own, chasing him until Jimin’s back was falling into the mattress, fingers yanking down his underwear as the older broke away, gasping for air, hand shooting back to search through the disrupted sheets for –– the older pulled up one of the rectangular packets, tearing at the corner with his teeth as Jimin helped discard his underwear entirely.

The older was moving in between his legs, which Jimin opened quickly, inviting, ready –– god, was Jimin ready.

The older got situated as he pressed the packet, clear lube falling over his fingers as he rubbed them together to warm the liquid. A hand pressed over Jimin’s stomach, feeling the way his abdominal muscles tensed and another hand was reaching down, fingertip lining up with Jimin’s hole and Jimin was quivering, couldn’t even try to hide how badly he was shaking.

And yeah, nerves were definitely a part of it, but Jimin was sure it was mostly want.

The older leaned down, pressing a kiss to Jimin’s lips and Jimin tried to follow as he pulled back.

He smiled with a small laugh that was drowned out in the noise of the club. “You ready?”

Jimin nodded.

“You sure?”

“Please, hyung,” Jimin whined.

The smile fell from his face, teeth sinking into his lip with a muttered, “Shit.”

And Jimin’s suspicions were confirmed over the older’s Hyung kink.

Before Jimin could even muster a laugh though, a finger was pressing into him. Any laugh he almost made was replaced by a breathless call, cut off as Jimin’s back arched into the feeling.

The older’s hand held him in place. “You okay?”

Jimin nodded, feeling the torrent of desire twist in his gut. It was almost too much. Jimin arched to grab at the hand holding to his stomach, holding it as it held him and ignored the arch in the older’s brow as he regarded the action.

“Keep going,” Jimin pleaded, trying to wiggle down, but being held in place.

The older stared at him a moment longer, stared before he was shaking his head and pressing that long digit deeper into Jimin. And when he crooked it just right, just at that perfect angle Jimin had never been able to find in himself with his short fingers and limited reach, Jimin was calling out, arching up and seeing stars.


Yoongi had visited the club maybe a dozen times in the past, had hooked up with maybe twice as many people in his day, had topped, had bottomed –– considered himself quite experienced in this regard. But never –– fucking never had he been left this breathless even before a dick had gone in anywhere.

Who was this kid?

Yoongi was three fingers in and the sounds the younger was making under him were startlingly an immense turn on. The boy would arch into every thrust of Yoongi’s fingers, stomach practically quivering under where Yoongi held him. And that hand –– that damned hand the younger was holding to his own with –– Yoongi was floating.

And when he whined, “Hyung,” one more time as Yoongi rubbed that spot that had been a little too easy to find, Yoongi was falling forward, forehead resting to the boy’s stomach because he needed to calm the fuck down before he cummed just from watching this boy like the prepubescent teenager he felt like at that moment.

“Hyung?” Hands were tugging through his hair and Yoongi couldn’t help the breathless laugh that left his lips.

“You’re too much,” Yoongi admitted, sitting back up. “Too hot.” He licked his lips and took a deep breath. “I’m not going to last long with you,” he admitted.

“Then hurry,” the younger wiggled his butt down and Yoongi was dying. “I’m ready,” he assured, almost babbling. “Promise. Promise I’m ready. Ready for you. Want you.”

Yoongi leaned back down to pull the boy’s lip between his own, sucking to quiet him and swallowing the whine the boy let out.

Yoongi was sitting back then, looking around. “Where’s that fucking condom?”

The boy under him had the audacity to giggle and Yoongi was grabbing the silver package, tearing it open and sitting back. His fingers slipped form the boys ass, the younger whining at the loss and Yoongi watched the muscles clench around nothing and shit –– Yoongi was so fucking screwed ––

–– didn’t know if he could just walk away after this.

But also didn’t have another choice.

He was rolling the condom on with shaking hands and when was the last time Yoongi had started shaking during sex?

He leaned down to capture the boys lips again, the younger’s grip coming to the back of his neck as Jimin pulled him up, scooting back to the headboard of the bed frame, the younger understanding and slipping his leg over to straddle his waist once more.

Yoongi held the boys hips, glancing down at where their cocks pressed together, swallowed at how hard the boy was –– how hard he was.

“Are you ready?” Yoongi checked, because he had to check.

The boy was bobbing his head to nod, grip tightening on Yoongi’s neck. “Just… help me?” He tilted his head, breathing heavy as he struggled to catch it. “I’m not sure I know how to… get it in.”

Yoongi laughed at the admission, shifting them slightly and tapping the bottom of his thighs until the boy got the hint and pushed himself up. Yoongi wrapped his hand around his own dick, guiding it steadily over the boy’s ass crack, feeling the excess lube rub on his length, moved to smear more of it around his own cock, and then he was lining up, connecting his lips back to the boys and muttering a soft, “slowly,” into the kiss.

Eyes shut tight, the boy nodded, thighs trembling as he started to lower himself down, lower himself onto Yoongi.

Yoongi muttered out a strangled curse as the tight heat of the boy’s ass completely engulfed his dick, sinking slowly until his ass was hitting Yoongi’s hips.

Yoongi’s head fell back as he struggled to catch his breath.

“You okay?” He asked.

Eyes lidded and cheeks flushed, lips parted and wet with a sheen of his own spit, the boy nodded. And then he was moving.

The first buck of the younger’s hips had Yoongi’s grip tightening to his hips, head falling forward as all of the breath seemed to be sucked straight out of his lungs and then he was moving again. A pressure built on Yoongi’s shoulders as the younger pushed against him to move his hips up only to bring them back down.

“You’re so good, baby,” Yoongi breathed into the younger’s ear, tongue tracing the shape down to the boys neck. “So good for me.”

The boy keened at the praise, erratic movements stuttering.

“I’m –I’m not going to –– Hyung, I’m close already,” he whined it like a complaint, fingers sinking against Yoongi’s shoulders as the older bucked his hips to meet the boy’s own thrusts, a cry tumbling from his lips.

Yoongi repeated the action and the boy gasped, neck pressing against Yoongi’s lips as he straightened, sliding off of Yoongi except for where the tip of Yoongi’s cock remained in him. Yoongi kissed the skin of the boys neck, kissed up to his jaw and the younger sank back down in one movement that had them gasping into each others mouths.

“Hyung,” the boy whined.

And it was so easy to imagine that it was Jimin in his lap, Jimin muttering that whined phrase, and maybe that’s what made the final twist of pleasure settle in his gut. 

“I’m close too,” he nodded, wrapping his hand around the length of the boys cock as he thrusted up to meet the boys stuttered grinds, pace quickening to become almost erratic as he tried to match the pace with his hand.

The boy was stuttering incoherent words, incoherent phrases as his fingers dug into Yoongi’s skin, likely leaving bruises as Yoongi wrapped an arm tight around the boy’s waist and brought their lips together again, swallowing the boy’s whine as he muttered into his mouth, “cum for me, baby.”

The fact alone that his drawled words were the final straw that tore the boy undone was enough for Yoongi’s own release to slam him in the gut. The boy cried out, pressing flat against Yoongi as he clenched around Yoongi’s length, movements short and stuttered.

Yoongi growled, pressing his face to the boys shoulder as his own orgasm was forced out of him, his hands guiding the boy’s hips to keep moving, to keep rocking as his release pounded through him and dissipated to a simple buzz in his nerves.

Both bodies slowed to a halt, chests heaving, panting filling the space between them.

“Is it always that good?” The boy asked, words croaked out from where he was resting his forehead, slick with sweat, to Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Wish I could say yes,” Yoongi admitted, tapping his palms against the boys thighs until he got the message and  straightened off Yoongi’s softening dick. The boy hissed as it slipped out, flopping down onto the mattress beside Yoongi, jostling his mask as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Yoongi wondered what he looked like under the mask, without the colors, without the darkness. He was probably gorgeous. Had to be to fuck like that, right?

“Guess we just work well together,” he said, chest still heaving.

And Yoongi had to agree. “Shame it has to be a one time thing,” Yoongi admitted, feeling the gradual exhaustion that usually seemed to creep up after each of his orgasms. 

“Does it have to be?” The muttered question hung in the air, seeming to still the thrumming of the bass from beyond the walls.

Finally, Yoongi answered, sitting up to grab for his underwear, for his pants. “Yeah, it does. Don’t know if you got the message, kid, but this place, you go here to be anonymous.”

“I’m aware,” the boy sat up. “That’s why I came here. I’m not saying we exchange numbers, I’m just ––,” he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’ll be here next Thursday,” he said. “Around this same time. If we met up again, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” He was looking down at his hands, naked and unsure.

And, god, was he beautiful naked.

Yoongi thought it over. “Thursday you said?”

He nodded.

“I’ll have to check my schedule, but I’ll see if I can make it.”

It wasn’t quite a promise, could even be read as an excuse to get out of the conversation if Yoongi didn’t sound as desperate as he did to himself. But his words made the younger boy beam as he reached off the bed to fumble for his lost clothing, ass raising proudly into the air.

And yeah, Yoongi would be back. He was almost sure of it.

Yoongi left the room before the younger boy did, having gotten dressed much faster, the boy seeming to lag on his movements, stuttering in a breath when he’d bend over.

“Sore?” Yoongi inquired.

“So very,” the boy pouted.

“Told you so,” Yoongi zipped up his pants and pushed a hand through his hair. 

“Worth it though,” the boy fumbled with getting his pants back on his legs.

Yoongi bit his lip and shook his head in amusement. He pointed over his shoulder. “I’m going to return the key. Door’s unlocked, so, uh, be careful,” he nodded.

“See you Thursday?” The boy sounded so hopeful.

And maybe Yoongi did as well as he muttered, “Thursday,” before walking out the door and closing it behind him, a weird feeling he couldn’t quite place blooming between his ribcage.


Yoongi turned the lock to their apartment, taking in a deep breath at the peaceful darkness of the living space. Running a hand through his wet hair, he shoved his keys into his pocket as they jingled at the movement. 

Yoongi was nothing if not careful. He always left a bag of spare clothes in the dance studio before going off like this, made sure to shower and change there, get all the dust off of his skin (and the sweat and cum), before stepping foot back into their apartment. The cold night air had whipped through his wet strands, but with the post sex haze still drifting around him like a cloud and the wonderful feeling of being clean Yoongi was anxious for his warm bed.

He toed off his shoes and stepped onto the carpet, maneuvering his way through the dark mostly by memory as his eyes continued to adjust.

A dim yellow light cast its shadow onto the carpet and Yoongi furrowed his brow at the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Which one of his idiot roommates was taking a shower at nearly two in the morning?

Whatever, he thought, walking past the bathroom.

Honestly, despite living with them for almost a decade, Yoongi would never pretend like he actually understood half the things they did.

As he walked past the room Jimin shared with Hoseok and Taehyung, he sighed, letting the regret stifle in his lungs for a moment, let the consideration for what could never be pass through his mind like a sad movie before he was shaking it off, and turning into his room.

He tugged off his pants and sunk into the embrace of his mattress, barely able to let the awareness of the night flit behind his eyelids before he was falling into the soothing embrace of perfect unconsciousness. 

Chapter Text

Jimin rolled out of bed and promptly fell on his ass. A groan stuttered past his lips and he clamped his lips to muffle it as tears welled in his eyes because holy fucking ouchhhh –– what the shit did he do to himself?

“Jiminie?” Taehyung tired voice, graveled from sleep muttered into the morning air, the light from outside still hesitant to enter the room through the thickly drawn curtains. Laced with concern, the question was followed by a grunt as a shuffling of the mattress and Jimin knew he was getting up to check on him.

Shit. Shit. Shit. What did he say? How did he explain? 

Jimin grasped at the bedding on his bed, trying to pull himself up, his muscles groaning in protest, his spine aching in a way he didn’t know it could.

Taehyung was beside him, grip tight on Jimin’s arm as he helped him up, a small sound of pain escaping Jimin’s lips as Taehyung helped him back onto the bed, staring at him with wide blown concern, hair still tasseled from sleep.

“Jimin? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Jimin considered lying, let the possibility rest on his tongue. But it was Taehyung, so after glancing at Hoseok’s bed to make sure he was really gone, Jimin leaned in close, grimaced at his truth and admitted. “Taehyung, I did something last night?”

Taehyung was still staring at him wide-eyed, leaning in closer with a nod for Jimin to continue.

Jimin swallowed. “I went to that club I was talking about.”

If possible, Taehyung’s eyes widened further. “Last night?”

Jimin nodded.

“D-did someone hurt you? Oh my god, Jimin,” Taehyung’s lip quivered, grip tightening on his friend’s arm. “Oh my god, are you hurt?”

“No, no, no,” Jimin rushed to say, arms out. “I mean, kinda ––.”

Taehyung’s eye’s rounded like saucers, tears ready to fall and a cry resting on his tongue.

“But it was good,” Jimin pressed his hands to Taehyung’s chest, stifling a laugh at the encounter, at the memory. “I’m just sore, Taehyung. Like really sore.”

“From… sex?” Taehyung gaped at him. “You had sex last night?”

Jimin nodded.

“Like, the gay sex?”

Jimin laughed behind his hand. “Yes, the gay sex,” he repeated.

Taehyung was pushing himself further onto the bed. “How was it?” The curiosity peaked his voice.

“Really good,” Jimin sighed into his own admittance. “Like really really good, Tae. I met this really great guy and he was really nice and careful and hot. And I never imagined it would be that good. You know, like first times are awkward as hell. My first time with a girl sucked,” Jimin bent his head down, lowering his voice, just in case, Taehyung’s wide-set expression holding onto every last one of his words. “But it was really good.” He blushed and lowered his head.

“But you’re in pain?” He tilted his head.

“Yeah,” Jimin flushed brighter. “I wasn’t in pain when we did it, you know. But, I mean, –– he warned me, said I’d be sore in the morning. You know, not used to… stretching like that.”

Taehyung wiggled his nose at the comment. “So… are you sure?” He leaned his head forward in question. “Did you figure it out?”

Jimin’s own blush fell away as the reality of his own situation started to sink in. “Yeah, Tae,” he shifted, making himself small on the bed. “I’m sure. I’m…” he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

The grip on his arm fell away, hands pressing to his face, thumbs pressing under his eyes, wiping away tears and oh ––  oh, he was crying.

“It’s okay, Chim,” Taehyung was there, so close and so comforting. His arms wrapped tight around his friend and they were both falling back into the mattress. “It’s okay,” he repeated soothingly. “You’re okay. I’m here. We’re here.” And then the final straw, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Jimin stifled over his own tears, pulling Taehyung in closer.

The taller boy kissed the top of his head and held him tight. “So,” he blinked up at Jimin from his soft brown eyes. “How hot are we talking?” He wiggled his brows.

Jimin laughed through his tears. “We had to wear masks, you know,” Jimin said. “But I’m certain he was hot. He had to be, you know.”

Taehyung nodded along, nothing short of encouraging. 

“He was kinda short though.”

A shit-eating grin split over Taehyung’s face as he laugh. “Like Yoongi short?”

Jimin made an incredulous sound, shoving his best-friends shoulder. “No,” he protested.

“I’m just saying,” Taehyung flopped onto his back. “I think you have a type.”

Jimin was quick to defend, “I’m not into Yoongi.” But his own thoughts from the night before tormented the words even as they left his mouth.

“I’m not judging,” Taehyung held his hands up. “If I was gay, I’d totally be into Yoongi.”

Jimin scoffed. “Yeah, right. If you were gay, you’d be with Jungkook.”

Taehyung furrowed his brow, considering. “You know what, I think you’re right.” He looked at Jimin, “But Yoongi would be a close second.”

“But what about Hoseok-Hyung?”

Taehyung looked stumped. 

“What about me?” Jimin wiggled his brows.

Taehyung flung his arm over Jimin. “If I was gay, I’d totally do you,” he smirked.

Jimin hid his face in his hands, groaning in protest. “Tae.”

After Taehyung’s snickering died down, Jimin dropped his hands. “Tae, what do I do? I don’t think I can walk without a limp like this. Everyone’s going to know.”

“No they won’t,” Taehyung waved his hand. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

“What are you going to do?” Jimin sat up as Taehyung rolled off the bed.

He scoffed, “Lie, of course.”


“Hyung,” Taehyung basically sing-songed and a collective unit of four heads turned his way as he lowered Jimin to the couch in the front room, from the kitchen, their Hyungs stared, Jungkook also peaking up to see what the commotion was all about. “Jimin was an idiot,” he started, casting a judgmental glance at his friend, “And snuck out last night to keep practicing. But I think he sprained his ankle,” Taehyung pouted. “He’s having a hard time walking.”

“What?” Hoseok’s eyes widened almost comically and he was dropping his bowl of cereal to the counter to rush to Jimin’s side. “Jimin? Why didn’t you wake anyone up? Why ––?”

“It’s not bad,” Jimin said as Hoseok grabbed at his ankle, gingerly lifting up the limp. “It hasn’t even swelled up, it just kinda hurts.”

Hoseok pouted at him. 

“Good thing we have a day off,” Namjoon said, tilting his head at Jimin. “Why were you still practicing?” There was concern there, one built up from years of worry over Jimin overworking himself. “You have the choreography down perfectly.”

“I just couldn’t sleep, hyung,” Jimin assured.

Yoongi looked down at his own bowl of cereal. So it was probably Jimin who was in the shower when he got back. Yoongi almost stifled a laugh at how horrific it would have been if he walked into Jimin then. Facing him then would have been impossible.

Facing him even now was a little difficult.

Jimin limped his way to the kitchen table, flinching as he sat and Yoongi jolted to help him, only to realize his help was completely unnecessary with literally every other person trying to help Jimin while he waved them off, cheeks pink. 

“Long night?” 

It took Yoongi way too long to realize those words were directed at him. He blinked a couple times, turning his gaze to Seokjin.

He was vaguely aware of Hoseok still fretting over Jimin. “If it doesn’t feel better by tomorrow, you have to go to the doctor, okay?”

Yoongi tuned them out to nod at Seokjin. “You could say that.”

“I see,” Seokjin said, knowing. Because, he did know more than most after all.

“You look like crap, hyung,” Namjoon’s voice was directed at him next and Yoongi flinched.

“Thanks,” Yoongi muttered back.

Jimin was looking at him then, expression soft and –– damnit –– worried. Jimin was worried about him when the only reason Yoongi looked like crap was because he was exhausted from staying up all night fucking his lookalike. 

“Are you okay, hyung?” Jimin muttered, leaning close to whisper the words.

Yoongi sighed. Fuck. He was so fucking fond. “Yeah, Jiminie, I’m okay.”

“You’re sleeping, right?” So much misplaced concern, it hurt.

“Yeah,” Yoongi couldn’t keep the fond smile from pulling at his lips. “I’m sleeping.”

Jimin nodded, straightening back in his seat. 

When Yoongi looked back to Seokjin he was met with a knowing look that bordered on judgement. Yoongi shrugged, holding it in a what? Position.

Seokjin shook his head and turned away.


“Careful, Yoongi,” Seokjin muttered. “Your favoritism is showing.”

Yoongi crossed his arms and kicked his leg against the carpeted floor of their living area. “It is not,” he pouted like a child.

Seokjin just smirked at him.

Yoongi rolled his eyes and continued as he was, choosing to ignore Seokjin as he pushed even more of his noodles from his takeout plate onto Jimin’s.

“Eat,” he ordered, stuffing his own mouth to avoid further confrontation from the others on his actions.

Namjoon narrowed his gaze at Yoongi, which fell away to a subtle roll of his eyes and a coy smirk. God, sometimes Yoongi hated how much Namjoon knew –– how much he knew about him.

Yoongi glared at Namjoon and continued to stuff his face. 

It was a rare day off, a rare day of nothing and though they’d all split up shortly after breakfast, they’d managed to all make it back by the time dinner was rolling around. So, naturally, they ordered some take out and grouped in the living space, a television show Yoongi didn’t care about playing in the background.

Hoseok continued to fret over Jimin’s ankle, despite it still showing no signs of bruising or swelling.

“I think that’s even more concerning,” Hoseok insisted. “If I can’t see what’s wrong, it might be something deeper, you know?”

“Wow,” Jungkook snarked. “You sound like a certified doctor, Hyung.”

“You brat,” Seokjin defended for Hoseok.

Yoongi took the distraction to look back to Jimin. He wanted to ask again if he was okay, wanted to make sure that the limp in his step wasn’t from him pushing himself too hard again, always insistent that it wasn’t enough when if there was one thing Jimin was, it was enough.

Jimin turned abruptly to Yoongi, startling him from his own words as the younger asked. “Am I your favorite?” Wiggling his eyebrows with a teasing smirk.

“Not much competition,” Yoongi joked back.

But inside he was sighing. Inside he was thinking, If you only knew.


Thursday came with a long trudge and Jimin almost didn’t go. Almost didn’t go because their performance was soon, so soon. And Jimin had to practice. And he couldn’t do that at a club, couldn’t do that if he was tired, or sore.

But he’d said Thursday.

And if he didn’t go back he may never see that guy again.

And, for some reason, that mattered to him.

So he waited until the even breathing of his bandmates filled the room and rolled out of bed. He shuffled over to his closet, pulling the duffle bag he’d already packed out to slip off his pajamas, discarding them under the bed, as he pulled on the same shirt and pants from last week. He’d washed them, but the stain from the dust still rested heavily on what was once white. It didn’t matter. It was just going to get even more colored after tonight.


The groggy voice made Jimin jolt as he turned around, facing a tired looking Taehyung, who was pushing himself up from his covers, eyes still half-slanted in the darkness.

“Go back to sleep, Tae,” Jimin whispered back, shrugging on his black jacket.

“Where are you going?” Taehyung tilted his head, so he wasn’t tired enough to just accept the message and roll back over. 

“Out, Tae,” Jimin whispered, stepping closer to push his friends shoulder, sending him flopping into the bed. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

Taehyung sat up again, blinking away his sleep and pulling his legs under him. “You’re going back to that club, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, Tae. I am,” Jimin nodded. “I’ll be back soon.”

Taehyung reached out, tiredly wrapping his fingers around Jimin’s wrist, rubbing soothingly. “Please be safe, Chim.”

“I will,” Jimin promised with an assuring smile. “Promise.”

Taehyung slumped back into the bed and nodded. “Call me if anything happens, okay?”

“Okay,” Jimin smiled fondly at him. “I will.”

He slipped out as Taehyung’s breathing resumed in the room. He walked to the bathroom, blushing his teeth, but forgoing the makeup this time. He combed through his hair and stepped out of the room, flicking off the light. He checked his pockets for his keys, phone, and cash (actually remembered that one), and turned to exit the hallway.

A slight thump sounded from the room across from him and Jimin tensed, looking to the room Yoongi shared with Seokjin.

A slight shadow drifted under the door frame.

Jimin fled.

He pushed his way from the hallway, sticking his feet into his shoes at the door before ducking out the front door.

The last thing Jimin needed was Yoongi walking out and running into him. How was he supposed to face him? What would he even say to explain?

Jimin shook his head and hurried off into the night.

The club was just as loud as he remembered it, just as colorful, and vibrant. Bodies crammed the front, dust filling his lungs when he forgot to hold his breath walking through. He sputtered and coughed, pushing away from the masses and the people and the hands tugging him in, pulled away because the guy he was here to meet said he didn’t like to dance, so it wouldn’t make sense to look for him on the dance floor.

Jimin searched, searched only to discover just how difficult it was to find somebody in the mass of people, the blacklights, the vibrant colors dusting through the air. He looked, looked at every figure resting up against the wall, had to go through check lists in his head to discern whether it was the guy or not.

Is the figure he’s looking at a guy? Yes, good start. How tall are they? Their hair? What color is their hair? Jimin wasn’t entirely sure about the masked stranger’s, but he knew it was dyed, knew it was light. Then, if they passed those easily passable marks, Jimin would wait and stare, trying to piece together the slope of their jaw and the curve of their nose.

But at the end of it all, Jimin knew that what he was really looking for in each of the masked faces he passed his glance over was whether or not the resembled his specific bandmate.

An hour had passed since he’d arrived. A goddamned hour. Jimin was exhausted, sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of something. The bartender hadn’t quite heard him and when the bartender shouted something back at Jimin, he’d just nodded to avoid any further awkwardness in their interacting. So he’d sat at the bar, sloshing his drink, letting his gaze fall around the room, alone… waiting…

He sighed, letting his posture slouch forward.

The guy had never really promised or anything. In fact, when Jimin had first asked, he could’ve just answered his ‘maybe’ statement to get out of there. But, when he’d left –– maybe Jimin was just imagining it, but Jimin was so sure he would come back.

Maybe something had come up.

Maybe something had happened.

Either way, Jimin couldn’t fight off the swell of disappointment pressing against his chest. Jimin stuck out his lip in a pout as he sighed. What a fool he’d been, actually believing that ––

Jimin reasoned that he could still find someone, still find a room and have a good night, reasoned that he didn’t need to go home empty handed. But he disappointment was almost suffocating and Jimin wasn’t sure he had it in him to just continue on like he wasn’t feeling the loss of his plans in his bones.

“You come here often, baby?”

Jimin jolted under the words muttered way too close to his ear, almost dropping his drink as he whipped around to face a lazy smirk and a black mask.

Jimin leaned back, checking, making sure. And, honestly, he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure just from looking at him that it was the same guy, not with his hair stained a deep green, not with the mask being different (like a birds face this time), and his clothes different. But that lazy smirk seemed familiar enough and yeah, the guy looked like Yoongi.

“Hyung?” Jimin tried, holding his drink closer to his person.

The smile on the guy’s lips grew. He leaned in to speak loudly into Jimin’s ear again, so that he could hear the, “What are you doing hiding here? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I was waiting for you,” Jimin returned, before frowning. “You’re late.”

The boy smiled, leaning back. “I knocked something over trying to leave, woke up my roommate, had to wait until he went back to sleep.”

“You came,” Jimin said then, finding himself enamored by the boy in front of him, the boy who seemed to reek of confidence as he leaned back against the bar, eyes never leaving Jimin’s frame, Jimin’s face.

The boy tugged his lip in between his teeth. “Couldn’t say no to you.”

Jimin flushed despite himself, smiling wide.

The boy was close, but Jimin was the one leaning closer, the one winding his fingers to the back of the boys neck, leaning dangerously off his own stool to connect their lips. The boys tasted like peppermint –– no, like toothpaste, and it made Jimin smile because he knew he did that with him in mind. Jimin smiled right into the kiss, pressing forward closer as hands wound around his sides, long fingers pressing to keep Jimin’s balance on the stool.

Lips slipped from his own to trace down his throat and Jimin was keening.

“Room?” He asked.

“Already?” The boy pulled back, raising an eyebrow.

Jimin bobbed his head in a nod. “You left me waiting long enough,” his fingers twisted into the older boy’s shirt, twisted and tugged insistently. 

“I’m surprised you waited,” the boy stood from his own stool, turning to the bar tender and tugging out his wallet, asking for a room key.

Jimin placed his drink on the bar, unfinished and tried to hide the smile blooming on his face because the boy was paying again, and it almost felt like a very strange date. 

Lips were meeting his again, dragging him from his thoughts as a grip on his arm led him from the bar.

It was easier to stumble into the dark room the second time around. This one had crimson walls and dark green sheets, the same ‘three rules’ were spray painted in black on the wall, along with random splatters of other colors. Light blue light barely illuminated the room, barely breached the darkness from the small lamp on the nightstand and none of it mattered because Jimin was lying on the bed, the masked stranger on top of him, hips pressed between Jimin’s legs, chest pressed against his, as his lips worked against Jimin’s mouth stealing all of the air straight out of his lungs.

And Jimin was acutely aware of the fact that there was literally nowhere else he’d rather be in that moment.


Yoongi curled his tongue up to the roof of the boy’s mouth, tracing over the curves there, feeling the boy’s pelvis press up as he let out a needy sound. Too many layers of clothes separated their growing erections. Yoongi swallowed the sound, tracing out of the boy’s mouth, sucking his top lip, and bending down to press his lips to the edge of his jaw. 

“Hyung,” the boy whined, breathless.

One of Yoongi’s hands braced by the boy’s head to keep Yoongi up, but his other traced over the younger’s neck, thumb brushing just beside where Yoongi’s lips were pressing, rubbing at the pink dust that was stuck to his skin, rubbing to push the marks out further, following the color down past the boy’s arm where pink turned to purple.

“Careful,” the boy’s movements stuttered under Yoongi, hands fisting in Yoongi’s shirt, pushing him back just slightly. “You can’t leave marks.”

Yoongi could have been imagining it, but he could’ve sworn the boy sounded disappointed at that statement. 

“I won’t,” Yoongi assured. “Don’t worry.”

The boy nodded, relaxing back down into the mattress. 

“I’ve never done this before,” Yoongi said, tracing his hands down the boy’s clothes torso, reaching the bottom of his shirt only to trace back up, fingers slipping under the fabric.

“Done what?” The boy hummed at the touch.

“Hooked up with the same person twice,” Yoongi raked the shirt up, leaning down to trace its path with his lips, with his tongue.

The boy sat up to help him discard the shirt. “Guess I’m special,” he pressed a short kiss to Yoongi’s lips.

“Yeah,” Yoongi agreed, chasing the boys lips as he reached for Yoongi’s shirt, tugging it up until Yoongi complied and helped.

Bare skins pressed together, Yoongi took the liberty to reach for the boy’s pants, tugging them down before sitting back to do the same to himself. The boy knelt forward, attaching his lips to Yoongi’s collar and Yoongi hummed into the feeling of it.

The boy leaned back rather abruptly then. “Do you have stuff?”

“Stuff?” Yoongi arched a brow, before the words sunk enough through the fog of arousal for him to understand. “Yeah,” he reached for his pants, tugging them back onto the bed and digging three more packets from the pocket. “Wait, did you bring preparation?”

The boy shook his head.

Yoongi scoffed. “Why not?”

“You have some,” the boy nodded, “So why does it matter?”

“What would you have done if I didn’t have any?”

The boy smiled then, “Guess we would have had to hump against each other like teenagers.”

Yoongi scowled, but barely meant it. Meant it even less when the boy leaned forward to kiss him again.

“How are we going to do this this time?” The boy leaned back, in nothing but his underwear, lips flushed and swollen, the light blue light basking against his skin.

Yoongi chewed at his lip. He’d already considered it, already knew what he wanted to do. But maybe the boy had other ideas. “What do you want to do?” He pressed.

“I don’t know,” the boy laughed, and Yoongi must be losing it, because it sounded so much like how Jimin would’ve laughed. “I’m new to this whole thing. I’ll do whatever,” the boy grinned. “Just tell me how to do it.”

Yoongi scoffed. “So now I’m teaching you how to have gay sex?” He tilted his head.

“Yep,” the boy continued to grin. “Teach me, Sensei,” he taunted.

“Okay, none of that,” Yoongi chuckled.

“Right,” the boy worried his lip. “You like it better when I call you Hyung.”

Yoongi grumbled at being called out. “You’re a brat,” he said simply.

The boy beamed further. “So, what are we doing, hyung?”

Yoongi gave a stuttering breath. “Can I fuck you from behind?”

The boys eyes blinked at him from behind the mask, his lips falling open and his head was nodding, enthusiastically.

“Let’s get you ready, yeah?” Yoongi reached for the first packet of lube.

On his back, the boy keened with each of Yoongi’s movements, just as before. Soft sounds poured from his lips, falling out in the air over the thrum of distant music.

Yoongi couldn’t believe it had been a week since they’d been in this position, couldn’t believe that he was back in this position. But it had been a long week. Their one day break hadn’t lasted long enough and the days had been full and exhausting and this –– this being here with this boy, pretending, forgetting –– it was exactly what he wanted.

The boy deemed himself ready and Yoongi helped him get into position. Knees against the mattress, elbows holding him up, the boy arched his back and lowered his head.

Yoongi leaned down to press kisses, trailing over the boys spine, down to his ass. Hands rubbing over the soft flesh, kneading the plump perk before slipping his fingers back into the hole to make sure.

The boy cried out a soft sound, a wanting sound and Yoongi was losing his resolve.

He rolled on a condom, slicked himself up with the second packet and lined himself up.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asked softly, leaning to observe where the boy had lowered his chest to the mattress, ass still up in the air, lips parted in his heavy breathing. Yoongi reached out to brush a strand of the pink-dusted hair from his eyes, brushing his thumb to rub away the perspiration clinging to the boy’s temple.

He nodded, smiling up at Yoongi. 

He wiggled his ass back as if in assurance and Yoongi was snorting as he gripped the boy’s hips and started pushing in. The boy’s soft call drowned out Yoongi’s own moan as he bottomed out inside the boy, tight heat wrapping around him, clenching around him as the boy adjusted to the new size.

It was easy to build up a rhythm like this, easy to find a pace that the boy could match by rocking back, easy to lose himself in the heat clinging to his skin, to the sounds falling from his partners lips, to the tightness building in his stomach.

Yoongi would push in slow, keep to deep concentrated thrusts that would have the boy making breathless gasps to match each of them in turn, only to quicken his pace and hear the stuttered cries falling from his lips, stumbled words walking for, “more,” and, “like that,” and, “harder.”

Neither lasted long, but Yoongi found that his release found him sooner. The heat that had been steadily twisting in his gut doubled all at once and he was reeling, releasing without much of a warning as he sunk down deep into the younger boy, pulling him close, holding him tight as he bucked through the rest of his orgasm.

He slipped out of the boy who tiredly rolled onto his back, erection still pressing his cock to his stomach, flushed and ready.

Yoongi tugged off the condom, tying it up and throwing it at the trashcan located in the room before he was lying down, head even with the boy’s waist as he sat up just enough to get the boy’s penis into his mouth.

The boy whined as Yoongi took it in, took it deep, sucking and pressing his tongue to its side as he pressed his head down, feeling the tip of the boy’s cock against the back of his throat.

“Shit,” the boy stuttered out, hips bucking as his hands tangled in the older’s hair. “Hyung, shit.” He repeated.

Yoongi breathed through his nose, holding the younger’s hips in place as he began to bob his head, deepening the thrusts, feeling the slide of the younger’s member down his throat. 

Spit slicked the member as he pulled off with a distinct pop sound, mouthing at the boy’s cock as he writhed and finally said, 

“I’m gonna cum.”

Yoongi pumped him with quick solid thrusts, moving up to lock his lips with the younger boy as he tugged him closer and stuttered under him, white splattering against his stomach. 

Yoongi needed a minute to catch his breath, he realized a little belatedly as he laid backwards on the bed, chest heaving with the warm, sweaty body of the younger boy beside him.

“Good?” Yoongi mumbled out, voice rough from their activities, and shit that was going to be hard to explain later.

“Good,” the boy agreed, turning his head to flash him a smile. “Hey, Hyung?” He muttered just a moment later, smile falling away to a more focused pout.

“Yes, baby?” Yoongi almost rolled his eyes at the pet name falling so easily from his own lips.

“Why did you agree to meet me again?” He asked, tone curious, light, like he was asking about Yoongi’s wardrobe choice. 

“You remind me of someone,” Yoongi admitted. “Like a lot. You look a lot like them.”

The boy grinned. “Remind me of someone you like?

“Yeah,” Yoongi felt a pang in his chest at his own admittance. “A lot.”

The boy laughed pushing Yoongi’s shoulder. “Then why are you here with me and not with them?”

“Doesn’t work like that,” Yoongi sighed, feeling the haze of post-sex growing to exhaustion. 

“Why not?” The boy pouted.

Yoongi scoffed, endeared. “He’s not gay,” Yoongi shrugged. “Besides, I’m his Hyung, and I actually care about him. I can’t ruin that because of some silly crush.”

The boy puffed out a breath. “He could be,” he insisted. “I mean, my hyungs don’t know I’m gay.”

“It’s different,” Yoongi insisted. “We’re very close. He would’ve said something. Besides, he’s had girlfriends.”

“Again,” the boy waved out his hand into the air above them. “So have I.” He gasped then, sitting up to turn, looking down at Yoongi. “You could be his gay awakening,” the boy beamed.

“Shut up,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, shoving the younger. “Even if he was, I still couldn’t act on it.”

The boy sighed, “You’re so difficult.” He flopped back down, turned on his side to face the older. “Why not?” He whined, actually whined like it was his messed up situation and not Yoongi’s.

“We’re coworkers,” Yoongi continued, choosing his words carefully while still feeling a freedom in letting them out. “It could compromise our jobs. I couldn’t do that to him. He loves his job.”

“Oh,” the boy said, solemnly before adding, “I get that.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi took a deep breath. “Wish all of Korea was as accepting as this weird ass garage.”

The boy stifled a small laugh. “Yeah.”

“You’re not weirded out that I slept with you cause you look like someone I know?” Yoongi asked, because the boy was taking it rather well.

He just shrugged. “I mean, we’re at a sex club, hyung. It’s not like you’re courting me. I feel like anyone’s reasons for doing anything around here are going to be shallow or weird. Could be a lot worse honestly.”

“Fine,” Yoongi shrugged. “Then what about you?”

“Hm?” The boy hummed.

“Why me?” Yoongi licked over his bottom lip, feeling an unwarranted surge of anxiousness at the answer.

“You approached me,” the boy shrugged, fiddling with his hands over his chest.

“Okay,” Yoongi said. “But why did you say yes? It can be shallow. Like you wanted someone your height?”

The boy sputtered a small laugh. “I just,” he shrugged. “Don’t really know?” And he phrased it like a question. “Like I was so nervous that night, because it was going to be uncomfortable. Like, it had to be. I was getting ready to have my first homosexual experience in a sex club probably full of weirdos. But, I don’t know––,” was he blushing? –– “I just felt comfortable around you.”

“Really?” Yoongi arched a brow.

The boy nodded.

“How come?”

“What is this? Twenty questions?”

“Sorry,” Yoongi tossed his hands up in mock defense.

“You kinda remind me of someone too,” the boy admitted, still fiddling with his fingers. 

“You like this person?” Yoongi pushed.

“I don’t really know,” the boy shrugged. “I don’t think that’s the point. I just trust them, like so much. And I guess since you kinda remind me of them, it transferred?” He curled up his face in apprehension. “Does that sound crazy?”

“No,” Yoongi shook his head. “At least not anymore than you looking like my dongsae.” He shrugged.

“Yeah,” the boy agreed.

And it suddenly dawned on Yoongi that they were still lying in bed, still butt-naked, still there –– and he was pretty sure he was stalling.

“Hyung?” The boy asked.

“Hm?” Yoongi hummed in acknowledgment.

“Is that why you like it when I call you hyung?”

And Yoongi was flushing up to the tips of his ears.


Jimin slipped his pants on easily enough. The soreness wasn’t as prominent as it had been before, but it was still kind of there. Maybe this hadn’t been a great idea, especially with their performance so close. And maybe Jimin should care a lot more, but he just… didn’t. Couldn’t regret getting another round with the Yoongi lookalike.

Jimin had just accepted he was gay and he had lost time to catch up on, damnit.

He shrugged on his shirt, checking the placement of his mask as the older boy cleared his throat. Jimin looked up.

“I guess this is goodbye,” the boy shuffled his feet by the door, hands stuck in the back pockets of his jeans, stained lime green by the dust.

“Yeah,” Jimin said in turn, letting the disappointment seep out of the words.

The older boy nodded his head a couple times and turned out, leaving first just as he had done before.

Jimin slumped back down against the bed, sighing and feeling the end resolve over him. It was done. No more of that. And even though he was disappointed, there was nothing to do about it. So, he might as well suck it up and just go home and ––

“Kid?” The boy was peaking back into the room, seeming a little breathless and maybe a little hopeful as he said, “Next Saturday. If you’re around next Saturday –– not this one –– I’ll be here. And, if we run into each other again, it wouldn’t be the worse thing in the world, right?”

Jimin beamed up at him. “I can do next Saturday.”

He was surprised by the awareness that he actually could. Saturday itself would be busy as hell, but that night –– yeah, he could do that night. 

“Great,” the boy smiled too.

“But,” Jimin shot up to stand. “Its too hard to find you in the crowds, we need like a signal or something.”

“A signal?” The boy scoffed.

“Don’t laugh. It’s hard to see shit out there.”

“Right, fine,” he crossed his arms. “Wear a bandana around your wrist. Like a white one. I’ll do the same, okay?”

Jimin nodded.

“See you then,” the boy nodded his head once and walked out the door.

Jimin flopped back down on the bed, grinning like an idiot.

Chapter Text

Yoongi clicked play for what felt like the millionth time, trying to piece together enough of a song before the deadline that was looming so fucking close. It felt unending. They’d just completed that performance that was making them all stressed a couple days before and now it was time to create the material needed for a new album, for a new comeback. And then there would be the practice, promotions, performances, and the tour and maybe a break and then they’d be doing it all over again.

Most of their songs were complete, but Yoongi had been offered a solo and he was trying, damnit, but nothing he put together felt right and he’s barely left the studio in days.

He didn’t even hear the knock he was so enamored by the program in front of him. Didn’t even realize he wasn’t alone until his head phones were being taken off his head and gentle, stubby fingers were carding through his hair.

“You look like shit, hyung,” the sweet voice said.

Yoongi leaned back into the touch, craving it in his soul. “Geez, thanks, Jimin,” he said back with a small smile.

A plastic cup holding an americano was placed on the desk in front of him. Yoongi craned his head back to stare up at Jimin. He was barefaced today, his hair a mess under the beanie he had tugged on, exhaustion still kinda evident in his own face to match the worn work out clothes he was sporting. Him and Hoseok had been working with their choreographers on their title track all day, making it perfect before they dragged the rest of them down there to work.

“You get a break?” Yoongi grabbed the americano greedily, feeling a warmth swell in his chest that Jimin had thought of him. 

“A bit of one,” Jimin sighed, stepping aside to lean against Yoongi’s table as he turned in his chair to face him. “Decided to get my hyungs some coffee. Good thing too,” he smiled to himself. “Namjoon was seconds from falling asleep on his equipment.”

There was something sour in the acknowledgement that this hadn’t been strictly from Jimin to him, something that hurt even though Yoongi didn’t think he had a right to feel hurt over it.

“You’re too good for us,” Yoongi teased back.

“Gotta keep up the ‘favorite’ title,” Jimin quipped, his smile pulling at his lips.

“You could literally do nothing ever and you would still be my favorite,” Yoongi joked back, but there really was no joke in it.

“Not true,” Jimin called him out. “Every one knows you have a soft spot for Jungkook. I bet he’s your actual favorite, and you just say he’s not to keep him in line.”

“No,” Yoongi shook his head, looking Jimin in the face. “You’re my favorite. Always will be.”

Jimin flushed under the words, laughing as he waved Yoongi off. 

“How’s the song coming?” He changed the subject.

“It’s not,” Yoongi admitted tiredly. “I literally have nothing.” 

That seemed to concern Jimin who offered, “Isn’t it due soon?”

“That it is,” Yoongi fell back in his chair. 

“You’ll finish it,” Jimin assured, nodding his head. “I know you will. You always do.”

“Thanks, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi said, wondering if his fondness was in any way transcending through his tone.

“I’ll let you work,” Jimin nodded, pushing himself up from the table and walking to the door.

Yoongi watched his movements, watched as the younger pushed open the door and walked out. Only to hesitate, and turn back.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked immediately, catching the worried crease in Jimin’s brow.

The younger seemed to catch himself immediately, smiling instead of the almost frown that had been present before. He waved his hand. “It’s stupid, hyung. And you’re busy.”

Yoongi sighed as he stood up, wrapping his fingers to Jimin’s wrist to drag him back into the room, giving him a light push onto the couch where he landed with a small bounce. “Whether you’re here or not, I doubt I’ll be making process, so, what is it?” He sat back into his own chair. “What’s bothering you? Is it stress? Over the come back?”

Jimin waved him off then, keeping his head bent as he fiddled with his hands. “It’s really stupid, hyung.”

“If its’ bothering you, it’s not,” Yoongi leaned back, deciding to wait for the younger to speak rather than try and convince him to.

“I… um, had a dream?” Jimin started, looking at Yoongi unsure.

“A dream?” Yoongi repeated.

Jimin nodded. “Yes, last night,” he waved his hand. “And it was really stupid,” he said again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear, “but in the dream, all of us were in it, right?” His fingers were still twisting together, his words getting erratic in his nervousness, but there was more volume, more certainty. “And, it was so stupid,” he made sure to repeat, “but in the… uh, dream,” he nodded at that word and Yoongi narrowed his gaze, “you all liked black, right? So you’re all wearing black all the time, and so was everyone else, so I pretended like I liked it too, but I didn’t really. Really I couldn’t stand wearing black all the time.”

Jimin took a deep breath and Yoongi leaned forward, mostly confused, definitely concerned.

“So,” Jimin nodded his head. “In the dream,” he repeated. “I knew it would be better if I just always wore black, pretended to like it and just sucked it up, r-right?” The waver didn’t go unnoticed by Yoongi as Jimin clamped his lips closed to try and cover it. “But, in the dream, I’d wear pink in private, even though I knew it wasn’t normal and people wouldn’t like it.”

Yoongi was kind of following, kind of … maybe. “Are you trying to say that you hate our wardrobes?”

“No,” Jimin waved his hands. “Not at all. And besides, it’s just a dream.” He was rambling now. “Maybe this was stupid. I mean, it was just a stupid dream and I ––.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi rolled the chair closer to put a hand on his knee. “It’s okay. I’m listening.”

Jimin nodded, swallowing heavily as he continued. “Well,” he took a deep breath. “One day, in the dream, I wasn’t careful enough and I was caught wearing pink instead of black and we… we got in a lot of trouble because of it. And you guys…,” Jimin’s voice broke and he faded out for a moment before he was looking up, blinking it away, forcing a smile, “You guys were angry at me for hurting BTS like that and …” he trailed off again, but this time, there was no intent to finish.

“Jimin,” Yoongi prodded. 

“It was just a dream.” How many times was he going to say that? “But it felt really real, you know. And I know I’ll be fine by tomorrow, but it’s just been bothering me.” He smiled again, but it wasn’t right, didn’t sit right on his features. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi started, carefully, feeling that there was more to the situation, more than he realized. “We wouldn’t get upset with you over something so small, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Jimin shrugged. “But in the dream it was a big deal, you know. So what if … what if it wasn’t something small, what if it was a big deal, like something that could actually hurt BTS, hurt all of you.”

“You wouldn’t do something like that,” Yoongi tried again. “You’re too kind, Jimin.” He squeezed the younger’s knee in a way that he hoped was comforting. “And you care, about us and BTS, yeah? So why would you ––?”

“What if it was something I couldn’t control?” The boy’s eyes looked almost glassy in the lighting. “Like the color,” Jimin stumbled out then, “in the dream. I couldn’t control that I liked it. Though I guess I could’ve controlled acting on it. But it wasn’t fair that you all got to do what made you uncomfortable and I was left uncomfortable and I –– in the dream –– I was so careful to hide it.”

Yoongi narrowed his gaze then, thinking carefully as he tried to understand the puzzle placed in front of him. “Then it wouldn’t be your fault, Jimin.”

Jimin looked at him.

“We would understand,” Yoongi assured then. He moved his hand to clasp Jimin’s in his own, tugging it apart from his other to cease the boy’s fiddling with his fingers. “And, if you were ever feeling that way, Jimin, you could tell us. We’d understand. And if we couldn’t right away, we’d try to. Please don’t hide from us, Jimin.”

Jimin blinked up at him then, another smile taking over his face, but it just wasn’t right. Especially with the teary glint in his eyes. “Of course, hyung. It was just a dream, after all.”

“If it’s just a dream, then why is it hurting you?” Yoongi asked, intending it to be soft, prodding –– but it probably came out much more interrogative than he meant.

“You know I’m always scared I’m going to slip up and mess everything up,” Jimin admitted. “Guess the dream just made it seem more apparent to happen.” He stood up then, moving from the couch back to the door.

“Jimin,” Yoongi stood, causing the younger to turn back to him. “Are you okay?”

Jimin nodded, smiling, and it set better on his face than the other ones. “I’m fine, Hyung. It was just a stupid dream anyways. Thank you, though.”

Yoongi nodded, wondering if he’d actually managed to help at all. “Yeah, um,” he looked back at his table, gesturing to his americano, “that you for the coffee, that was really nice of you to ––.”

Arms were wrapping around Yoongi’s neck and he floundered over his words, eyes widening as Jimin sunk against him in a tight embrace.

“Thank you,” Jimin muttered one more time, pulling away and ducking out while Yoongi was still flushing from the sudden contact — the sudden warmth that had basked over him for far too short a time.


Yoongi’s thrusts were deliberate, calculated –– hard. He could feel himself hitting deep inside the boy on his hands and knees in front of him each time, could feel the boys walls clench when he would increase his pace. Hands pressed to the boys smooth hips, Yoongi felt like he should be in control of the situation, like the fact that is was his movements pushing pleasure deeper into their own bones put him in some position of control.

But Yoongi wasn’t in control.

Not at all.

The boy in front of him had that position in every way.

Yoongi was pistoling in, hitting perfectly against that spot that he was getting familiar with after their other two meetings. And the boy under him was keening, making sounds Yoongi had never heard fall from the boys lips before, had never heard fall from anybody’s lips before. And Yoongi was completely dependent on them.

The boy was stretching out on the bed, the sheets a solid black this time (or maybe a navy blue, Yoongi couldn’t tell in the dim lighting), spine arching to push his ass more against Yoongi’s hips while he leet out sounds that could have been growls if they weren’t so damned pitched, so fucking breathless.

“There,” the boy keened. “Right there, Hyung.”

Yoongi growled, deep in his throat and increased the pace of his thrusts desperate now with want as the boy under him started to rock back, rolling back against his thrusts with more of those pitched sounds filling the space, canceling out the thrum of the beat from just outside.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathed, sweat sticking to his forehead, matting his hair and he tightened his grip, kneading fingers into the flesh of the boys rear as he pistons up and thrusted with determination because he could feel the heat wrapping tight inside his belly, could feel it like a coil in his stomach and he could tell this release was going to be one for the books.

When Yoongi leaned forward to increase his pace, the boy’s calls wavered as he rolled back with the same kind of desperation Yoongi felt, his own curses falling from his lips as the calls of the boy under him cut off abruptly before returning full force, his grip tightening in the covers. 

Yoongi could tell he was cumming from the way the boys walls stuttered and tightened under him.

Yoongi felt it like a punch in his gut as he leaned over, pounding into the boy as he felt his own release grip over him.

The boy under him rocked back to meet each of Yoongi’s thrusts until he was cumming, full force, the sounds of the club drowning out to a dull thrum as heat and pleasure overtook his every semblance of reality.

He felt like he was blinking his way out of a dream when he found himself on his side, soft fingers tugging through his sweat strands of hair.

“You okay?” The sweet, rasped voice of the boy sounded out.

Yoongi nodded. “You’re fucking phenomenal,” Yoongi managed out, voice rough. “You know that?”

The boy smiled under the praise, his fingers still moving through the Yoongi’s hair. Yoongi hummed into the touch, nuzzling closer.

“You’re like a cat, hHung,” the boy laughed. 

Yoongi cast him a half-hearted glare he wasn’t even sure the boy could see behind his mask.

“Hey, so,” Yoongi started, moving to roll onto his stomach, the movement causing the boy to draw his hand away (which may or may not have put disappointment straight into his gut), “I’m not going to be able to make it here for a couple weeks.”

“Oh,” the boy said.

“I don’t know if you’d like to meet up again,” Yoongi tried to recover, pushing his hand through his hair. “But I don’t know how we would…” he trailed off.

The boy turned on his back, staring up at the ceiling. In the dim light, Yoongi watched as a small smile crept over the boys features. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t know if I can walk away so easily when you can fuck me like that,” the mirth in the boys voice had Yoongi scoffing.

“I’m not even that good,” Yoongi grumbled, feeling the heat in his face and hoping the darkness could cover it.

“It feels good though,” the boy protested. “Like really good.”

Yoongi waved a hand at him. “Have you even slept with anyone else?”

“Yes,” the boy started to protest. “I ––.”

“Have you ever slept with another guy?” Yoongi clarified.

The boy squirmed next to him, which was answer enough without his, “No.”

“See,” Yoongi sighed. “I’m probably not even that good. You just don’t have anything to compare it to.”

“Why are you trying to denounce your skills?” The boy sat up. “Did you hear me earlier? I didn’t even know I could make those sounds,” the boy sounded shocked by himself and Yoongi was laughing slightly, still lying pressed to the bed.

“Its not me,” Yoongi said simply.

“Well, it’s not me,” the boy protested. “So what is it?”

Yoongi looked him over in the dim light, seeing the shadows cast on his naked skin. “Maybe we just work well together,” he repeated. “Some people just click like that, I guess.”

The boy turned his head to look Yoongi over in turn. “It’s strange,” he admitted. “I know you’re basically just a stranger, but you still feel familiar, trustworthy.”

Yoongi would comment on how that sounded dangerous to trust someone so easily, if he wasn’t all feeling the same way. “Maybe that’s it,” Yoongi supplied.

“I want to meet back up in a couple weeks,” the boy said then, moving to slide off the bed as he shuffled for his clothes.

Yoongi barely had the time to lift himself up to look at what the boy could possibly doing when the light cast upon the boys face told him enough: the boy was on his phone.

“I’m not giving you my number,” Yoongi said curtly. “Trustworthy or not, I still don’t know you. And I can’t afford to know you, we’ve—.”

“—been over this,” the boy finished. “I know. I don’t want your name or your number, relax. I just want your dick,” he said sitting back down on the mattress, jostling Yoongi where he hummed in affirmation.

The boy turned his screen to Yoongi then, who sat up, squinting at the sudden light to see it.

“This app. Download it,” the boy insisted.

Yoongi squinted at the texting app, one he’d never heard of before.

“It essentially gives you like a second number,” the boy shrugged. “You don’t have to put any personal information in or anything. Just make your title name Hyung,” he teased, tongue poking out at Yoongi. “We’ll exchange our second numbers and that will be it. As long as you don’t use the app to contact anybody else, it will be hidden, private –– you know, like this club.”

Yoongi nodded, sitting up and scampering for his own phone.

He considered as he looked at his screensaver, a fun picture of the seven of his bandmates, if the kid sitting on the bed would think he was a huge fanboy if he saw it, wondered for a moment if the boy even knew who BTS was before realizing that of course he did, and then wondering what he would think if he knew who Yoongi was.

The app finished downloading somewhere in that time and Yoongi clicked on it. “Okay, number,” he requested.

The boy held out his hand and Yoongi pulled his phone back, protectively.

“Fine,” the boy tossed his hand up, shaking his head at the older. He recited off the digits and Yoongi typed them in, saving away the singular contact into the apps list.

“Text me something,” the boy said. “To make sure it worked.”

Yoongi typed and heard the boy’s phone ding a second later.

“‘You have a nice ass’,” the boy read out loud. “Really, Hyung?” The boy almost sounded annoyed, almost.

Yoongi scoffed at himself. “So it worked?”

“Yep,” the boy popped the ‘p’ sound. “Hey, Hyung,” he said as he started to shove his legs in to his pants. “You want to know another cool thing about the app?”

“What?” Yoongi mumbled as he began to do the same.

“All the pictures are locked,” the boy smirked. “If I were to send you a picture or a video, you wouldn’t be able to screenshot it or save it. So, it’s safe,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“We’ll see,” Yoongi drawled.

The boy laughed in turn. “So, whenever you want meet up here,” see waved his phone. “Just text me.”

“I will,” Yoongi assured.

The boy pulled on his shirt, checked his pockets and gave Yoongi a salute as he headed out.


Jimin tugged his fingers through his hair, watching the colored dust swirl down the drain in front of him. The club was great, but cleaning up after it was a nightmare. Jimin wondered what it would be like to have to make this journey back and try to clean himself up if he was drunk or even just tipsy. It was why he blatantly refused to drink there. It would increase the possibility of getting caught and Jimin could not have that.

Plus, he didn’t want to dull the pleasure of what he actually went to that club for.

He felt a blush rising on his skin as he thought about their last encounter. That had been something.

Jimin had never considered that it would get better. That being with the same person instead of different ones would allow for them to get to know each other enough in their intimate moments that they could make the experience even more pleasurable. That having the older boy know where his prostrate was located could allow him practiced ease as he fucking plowed it this time, or that knowing how to drawl out the word Hyung just right could get the other so turned on —

The sex was getting better, and Jimin wasn’t about to just throw that away. Not yet. He wasn’t bored yet. And having someone that he trusted enough with what they were doing willing to continue was an excellent way to destress from his crazy idol life and an even better way to challenge all of his pent up energy into something that wouldn’t ruin his entire career.

It was good.

It was working.

Jimin ran his hands over his body, carefully ridding himself of any evidence before he stepped out and checked again in the mirror. No dust left behind, no bruising or marks –– nothing that would let anyone know that Jimin had just had his brains fucked out of him in an underground club by a hot stranger.

Jimin nodded at the lack of incriminating evidence and slipped on sweat pants and a tshirt, shoving the dirty clothes into the duffle bag.

Stepping out of the showers that rested just across the hall from their practice room, Jimin started down the hallway. He’d decided to avoid the possibility of waking up his band members and had carefully placed his belongings in the studio in advance to leaving. Now, as he walked out, he regretted not having his bed so close to him when all he wanted to do was collapse into it.

He walked past the dance rooms, carefully peering down the hall to where Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s studios rested, sighing against the still persistent voice that always seemed to want to obsess over what would they think if they knew?


Jimin jolted under the call of his name, spinning around. Eyes widening, he tensed under the careful gaze of none other than Yoongi. His hair was tucked under a beanie, his clothes slightly disarrayed.

“Hyung?” Jimin called out, much louder than he intended.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, looking Jimin over carefully. 

Jimin waved vaguely behind him in the direction he came, his own gaze narrowing as he voice his concern, “Have you been in the studio this whole time?” He accused.

Yoongi clamped his mouth closed, opening and closing his mouth a few times before, “You’re one to talk,” he called out. “Do you know what time it is? Did you just finish practicing?”

Jimin clamped his mouth closed this time. “Yes,” he took the excuse while it was offered to him. “But I haven’t –– it’s not really that big of a deal,” he held out his hands. He didn’t want Yoongi to worry about him. Not like this. Not when it wasn’t even true.

Yoongi narrowed his glance. “Jimin, you know ––.”

“I know,” he interrupted. “But,” he fiddled with a strand of his still wet hair, “You were doing it too, so you can’t complain.”

Yoongi closed his mouth at that, seeming like he was going to argue, before he just slouched forward. “Come on,” he waved. “Jimin, let’s go home. Sleep for Christ’s sake.”

Jimin nodded, hurrying to reach Yoongi before falling into stride beside him.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he walked in stride with the older. He’d boughten it, right? The lie? Yet Jimin still felt like he was going to blow it just from how antsy he was in these moments. He could feel himself flushing as he considered Yoongi knowing what he was coming back from, knowing where he had just been.

Yoongi cleared his throat as they stepped outside, cleared his throat before turning around and locking the doors.

“Don’t make a habit out of this, Jimin,” he instructed, the authority in his voice making it clear that he was at least trying to take on his Hyung roll. “This comeback isn’t worth it if you’re going to put your health on the line again.”

The again hung heavily in the cold in the night air.

“I won’t, Hyung,” Jimin assured. “I wasn’t straining myself. I wanted to be here,” he shuffled his feet. “And you should take your own advice,” he offered softly.

Yoongi scoffed a small laugh at that. “You know I fall asleep here sometimes,” he turned to start walking. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“But you weren’t sleeping,” Jimin skipped to catch up, walking beside him towards their apartment complex. 

“How do you know?” He nattered his gaze.

“Your hair’s wet,” Jimin reached up to tug a strand, earning himself a dejected sound from the older in protest.

Yoongi tugged his hat further down his hair. “Yeah, well,” he seemed to struggle for words for awhile. “I felt gross after being cooped up all night. Wanted a shower, sue me,” he added on, defensive.

“I’m just saying you weren’t asleep.”

Yoongi turned to him then, cutting Jimin off from how close they were in thee silent of the most ungodly hours of the morning.

“Please take care of yourself, Jimin,” Yoongi sighed, his tone serious.

“I will,” Jimin assured again. It wasn’t that big of a deal. He knew that, yeah, he’d been bad in the past, had worked himself too hard and had scared his hyungs at one point when he kept blacking out, but that was then. And he hadn’t been that way for awhile now. He was doing better. 

But Yoongi’s concern had never really faltered after Jimin had completely passed out during a dance practice, had never really left the older’s face in every hint given after that Jimin was pushing himself too hard.

But the attention and the concern had Jimin flushing down to his toes, until he could think of nothing else to do than to bow his head, shuffling his feet as he assured his hyung it wasn’t like that.

“I worry about you, you know,” Yoongi said, voice low and rough in the night.

“I know.”

A hand landed on his head, pushing through his hair and he looked up into the gentle eyes of the man who had all of the trust Jimin could actually put into another person. It was why he’d talked to Yoongi about the ‘dream,’ his thinly veiled metaphor for the actual problem, why he always felt himself leaning toward the older in times of stress or crisis.

A small smile pulled the older’s expression as he regarded Jimin, one Jimin couldn’t help but return ten fold as he beamed at the other.

When he dropped the smile enough to see clearly again, Jimin found an apprehensive look on the older’s face, the gentleness still there but almost seeming twinged with… sadness? Could that be right?

It was gone so fast after Jimin caught it, the older dropping his hand and turning away, that Jimin couldn’t be sure.

But he still made sure to walk closer than necessary to Yoongi as they made their way home, maybe even wrapped his arm around the older’s to pull him closer as they walked, blaming it on being tired. And the way Yoongi reached with his other hand to rest in just above the bend in Jimin’s arm to hold him in place (maybe even a little closer) didn’t go unnoticed.

Chapter Text

Jimin was exhausted. The city scape passed by the window and Jimin could feel his gaze zoning in and out, feel his eyes drooping closed only for him to pull them open once more. Their comeback stage had been wildly successful, but so very exhausting. And as the two vehicles carrying all of the members back to their apartment continued on, Jimin was finding it increasingly difficult to retain consciousness. 

He was dimly aware of a hand clasped in his own, a hand rubbing softly over where his thumb turned into his wrist. He thought it was Taehyung, before the subtle thought crossed his awareness that Taehyung was in the other vehicle.

The hand in his continued the soft touches and Jimin turned his head to catch sight of Yoongi, who was staring down at where their hands were held together.

Jimin smiled lazily at the sight. Yoongi’s thing with hand holding was easily the most adorable part about his grumpy hyung. Jimin shifted in his seat, turning from his window to Yoongi.

Yoongi jolted, movements stilling as he pulled his hand away.

Jimin was too tired to make words, so he let out a sound of protest instead, tightening his grip on Yoongi’s hand to keep it in place as he turned, laying his head to the older’s shoulder and nuzzling in against the older’s warmth.

He could feel Yoongi tense under him, until the boy began to relax, the rubbing against Jimin’s hand resuming. Jimin hummed softly at the feeling and considered little else as he allowed unconsciousness to steal him over.


Jimin made a sound of protest at being awoken, the gentle prodding of his arm forcing his eyes awake as he blinked his way into consciousness. His heart seemed to jolt at how close he was to his Hyung’s face and he was pulling away, removing his he’d off the older’s shoulder to regain some semblance of reality.

His head felt heavy.

God, he was so tired.

“Come on,” Yoongi’s hands wrapped to Jimin’s arm, tugging him alone to get him out of the seat.

Jimin allowed it, maybe even found himself slumping back against the older’s arm like he’d done that night when he’d ran into him after the club, let the older support his weight as they moved through the building. He was dimly aware of the others around him, talking lowly –– all ridden with the same exhaustion he felt.

Seokjin called dibs on a shower, which Jimin couldn’t even be bothered with. He’d just shower in the morning. Right now –– right now he just needed sleep.

Which Yoongi seemed to understand as he led him straight to his room.

Jimin sunk onto his bed with a grunt, weight tugging him to flop down into the mattress.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Yoongi latched onto his wrists, pulling the boy back up to sit. Jimin slouched over, blinking tiredly as he rubbed at his eyes.

Yoongi kneeled in front of him. “Why the hell are you so tired?”

Jimin shrugged.

Yoongi narrowed his gaze. “Have you been sleeping?”

Jimin bobbed his head to nod, feeling more awake than he had a moment before, but still just seconds from complete unconsciousness.

“How about food?”

Jimin’s head rested to the side as he blinked through his sleepiness.

Yoongi jostled him. “Jimin, what have you eaten today?”

Jimin regarded him. “I’m fine, Hyung. Just let me sleep.”

“I will after you answer my question.”

“I didn’t,” Jimin admitted. “I was too nervous, with the stage and the choreography. I was nervous,” he repeated, voice growing soft as if trying to avoid a lecture.

Yoongi sighed. “You need to eat.”

“I know.” And he did. “Could we have this conversation tomorrow?” Jimin begged, feeling himself droop off again.

Yoongi shook his head. “Fine. Let’s get your clothes off.”

Jimin jolted for a moment, blinking back to awareness to tilt his head at his hyung.

“Unless you want to sleep in your tight as hell leather pants?”

Jimin relented at that. Right. It was just Yoongi, just his hyung. Nothing Jimin hadn’t done for Taehyung or Jungkook in the past, nothing Yoongi probably hadn’t done for the other’s either.

He slouched against Yoongi as the older’s hands gripped the hem of his shirt pulling it up and over his head. Jimin smirked lazily at the connotations of it all.

As if…

He thought, finally falling back against his own bed. Yoongi was shuffling somewhere through his room. Jimin was acutely aware of some disappointment lingering in his own considerings as he tiredly blinked open his eyes to see Yoongi sitting on the mattress beside him again.

“Useless,” he criticized with no actual malice as he pulled a white t-shirt over Jimin’s head, jostling his hair. 

“‘m tired,” Jimin slurred.

“I’m aware.”

Fingers fumbled with his pants and Jimin turned into the pillow to hide his smirk. Tomorrow he’d make an effort to tease his hyung for undressing him.

In the back of his mind, thoughts of his masked stranger fleeting behind his eyelids. And no –– he could not think about that guy with Yoongi so close. God, what if he popped a boner how in the flying hell would he ever serve ––

As the pants unceremoniously slipped from his thighs, yanked down past his ankles and tossed somewhere as Yoongi grunted from his efforts. Jimin’s smile turned into a small laugh, because, all thoughts of nights of arousal and sensual removal of clothes died as Yoongi almost tripped trying to get the pant leg off Jimin’s ankle.

Yoongi straightened, a little breathless, “What are you laughing at?”

Jimin snorted against his pillow.

“If you’re awake enough to laugh at me, you’re awake enough to put your own damned clothes on,” he turned and walked a step away.

Jimin rolled over, “No,” he whined, aware that he sounded like a child.

Yoongi was back again, sweat pants finding their way over his thighs, Yoongi hovering over him, glaring down as Jimin blinked up at him.

“Help me out here,” he demanded.

Jimin sighed, digging his heels down to push his ass off the bed enough that the pants could be dragged over the swell of his ass to rest at his hips. Yoongi pulled his grip away, swallowing thickly and stumbling away in a manner that didn’t go unnoticed by Jimin.

Then there was a hand on his head and Jimin pushed into it, smiling softly as Yoongi pushed his hand through his hair, pulling strands from his face as a soft, damp cloth pushed against Jimin’s face. Yoongi was careful as he wiped the makeup from the younger’s face, careful as he prodded and the gentle motion and the matching push of fingers through his hair had Jimin slipping into sleep before he’d even finished.


Park Jimin was holding his hand.

The damp cloth was pressed between his forefinger and thumb of his other hand, stained black with eyeliner, pale with foundation, and pink from an added blush. Yoongi was kneeling beside the bed, watching the soft breathing of the younger boy and feeling a pain in his chest.

Because Park Jimin had grabbed his hand ––

–– in his sleep ––

–– looking like that ––

And there was something so almost about the whole situation. That Yoongi could almost have this, could almost tell him, could almost try.

Just almost

The boys small fingers clutched around the back of Yoongi’s hand, grip twitching against the soft breathing raising and dropping his chest.

Yoongi didn’t want to pull away.

“Hey, Jimin,” Yoongi spoke out into the quiet, barely above a whisper. 

The boy, of course, did not respond.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Yoongi pressed his lips together after speaking those words, tilting his head and watching closely, trying to ingrain this image and the memory with it into his brain. Longing and sadness warped together and it was probably how tired he was, but he felt like he could actually start crying sitting there.


Yoongi jolted, hand slipping from Jimin’s as he jerked to attention, looking to the door.

Taehyung leaned there, arms crossed and curiosity playing on his face. “Are you okay, Hyung?”

Yoongi stepped back from Jimin, waving the cloth like that would explain everything. “Yeah, just helping Jimin.”

Taehyung looked him up and down, brow furrowing further in what Yoongi could only identify as suspicion. The tall boy pushed himself from the doorframe, yawning as he stepped to the opposite side of Jimin’s bed, he started tugging the comforter free, rolling Jimin over the sheets to drape the comforter over the boy.

Yoongi smiled softly at the sight, but lost his smile when Taehyung looked back up at him.

“You sure you’re okay, Hyung?”

Yoongi straightened, hand brushing through his hair. “Uh, yeah. I’ll just…” he nodded and walked out the door. 

Yoongi waited his turn to shower, was quick about it as he put on loose clothes and headed towards his own bed. He was barely sinking into his covers when Seokjin narrowed his gaze at him.

“What?” Yoongi’s voice was muffled by his own covers.

“Yoongi,” Seokjin said and it was a sigh.

Yoongi turned then, sitting up to face him, genuine curiosity at what was causing Seokjin to sound so concerned playing across his face.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Seokjin tried, hands dropping to his thighs. “You’re going to get hurt.”

Yoongi held back a roll of his eyes, adverting his gaze instead. “I’m already hurt,” Yoongi admitted, not wanting to see the pity on his friend’s face.

“Can’t you,” Seokjin seemed to struggle for words, “stop liking him?”

Yoongi snorted at that. Maybe if it was anyone else. Maybe if they didn’t live together. Maybe if he’d stomped it out at the very beginning. “I think,” Yoongi slotted his fingers together. “If I knew one hundred percent that I didn’t have a chance, I could,” he nodded. “And it’s stupid, because I don’t have a chance. Jimin’s not gay and even if he was, we couldn’t.” He shrugged. “But he hasn’t turned me down,” Yoongi kept looking away, any part of the room that wasn’t Jin’s face. “And sometimes he does stuff like grab my hand or he’ll say something and I just think maybe. And even though it’s stupid, I can’t let that go, not enough to get over him.”

“Maybe you should tell him,” Jin said.

Yoongi jolted then, turning to his with wide eyes and a, “Are you kidding?”

“Think about it, Yoongi,” Jin scooted to the edge of his bed. “It’s Jimin. You know he’d never hold that against you. Just tell him, explain that you understand that he doesn’t. But you need to hear it to move on, which you’re going to try to do.”

Yoongi was shaking his head before Jin was even done. “No, no. I can’t.”

“Why not?” Jin pushed.

“Because,” Yoongi tossed out is hand, saying the word like the answer was obvious. “I’d have to tell him I’m gay.”

Jin slouched at that. “Yoon,” he said pitying.

“No,” Yoongi held out his hand, shaking his head still. “I can’t tell him. I can’t.”

“Why not?” Jin asked.

“Because he’ll treat me differently. He’ll act different around me. He’ll start being careful, he’ll start keeping a distance. God, Jin, what if he’s disgusted by me?”

“Yoongi,” Jin criticized. “Jimin adores you.”

“He thinks I’m straight. They all do,” he tossed out his hand. “And things are fine that way so why the hell would I ruin that?” He couldn’t help the bite coming out of his tone, the anger that even he knew was just blooming in defense. 

“Joon and I don’t think you’re straight.”

“That’s different.”


“Joon’s all americanized,” Yoongi tossed out his hand, waving it exaggeratedly in the air before dropping it down to his own head. “He studied that stuff, he educated himself on it. And you,” he looked at Jin. “You’re just supportive. I could’ve told you I was sexually attracted to traffic signs and you would’ve been supportive.”

Jin snorted an actual laugh at that. “Please tell me you’re not ––.”

“I’m not,” Yoongi interrupted. “Good god.” He rubbed his face with his hand.

“I just think ––,” Jin started again, voice serious again.

“Jin,” Yoongi interrupted. “Can we talk about this later, please? I’m so tired.”

Jin pursed his lips, probably well aware that ‘later’ meant probably never. “Just, think about it, okay?”

Yoongi nodded, but his answer was already set.


Jimin was going to text his masked stranger, he was going to schedule another meeting, he was going to have sex with the man again. Of all of this, he was sure. But… he needed a break.

Or, better said, he needed an encounter where he wasn’t thinking about Yoongi the whole time.

Because he was becoming confused.

Very, frustratingly confused.

He had started flushing around the older, face turning red enough that the others would point it out, like when he tried to tease Yoongi about helping him out of his clothes, but failed miserably when he could only stutter out a general recounting of it. Or when the older grabbed his hand like he was accustomed to him doing, to lead him through a certain corridor, and Jimin had felt his pulse in his head.

He needed just one night, one night to convince himself that it was just because of that masked stranger and not because of anything else.

Because he’d thought about it before, really had. Jimin couldn’t say that his current awareness of his sexuality had not come without some of that awareness being brought on by thoughts he found himself considering towards the older male with the gruff voice and large hands and grumpy demeanor and kind attitude ––

Yes, Jimin had thought about it. But it didn’t matter, because Yoongi was off limits. So, he’d killed that thought immediately and decided to focus on more important things, like the holy shit I’m gay epidemic that was currently threatening to ruin his entire life. 

But feelings were weird and complicated. And Jimin needed to refill them before that creeping feeling of interest grew into an actual crush and — oh god, what would he do then?

So, yeah, he needed a break from the masked stranger who reminded him so much of the older Jimin was certain he was beginning to imagine it.

Which is why he was at the club, covered in dust, disoriented from the dim lighting and loud music, peaking around for someone like him, wondering how he was supposed to tell.

Jimin didn’t have to wait long. There was a man, tall and broad who smirked at him from across the room. Jimin wasn’t sure what the appropriate etiquette was in these situations, so he brought his hand from where he’d had it clasped tight in his other to make a small wave.

And then the man was moving over.

Anxiousness jolted Jimin, heating up the pace between his ribcage and Jimin was suddenly, undeniably nervous. He thought it would be easier. After that first time, it had come so naturally, but now –– now, here, with this guy nearing, Jimin kinda felt like he was standing at the top of the tallest tower looking down.

He was in Jimin’s space, way taller than Jimin had assumed at a distance and maybe Jimin did like short guys better, because he wasn’t sure he liked being towered over. Like, yes, all of Bangtan was taller than him. But there was a difference between being tall and the way this guy stood. Jin was effortlessly broad, but this guy stood like he wanted to be broad, like it mattered. He leaned over Jimin and it made Jimin feel even shorter than he did. And he lacked the gentleness that Namjoon in all of his giantness had that had made it so the older had never really intimidated Jimin after their first meeting.

And that made Jimin realize that he was intimidated.

Even as the guy leaned in close, hand coming to wrap around Jimin’s waist, fingers resting at the small of his back, a drawled, “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

Jimin smiled, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if it came out as a cringe. Who the shit was this guy calling a thing?

Jimin held up has hand, waving it in a ‘im okay’ manner as he took a solid step back.

“Oh, come on,” the guy said, his confidence wavering as he stepped forward to keep the proximity. “I’m sorry. Did I come on too strong?”

Jimin nodded, still holding that gentle smile.

“Sorry,” the guy repeated a small laugh falling past his lips as he returned his hold on Jimin. “You are just really attractive,” he nodded. “Didn’t want to lose my chance, you know?”

Jimin considered. This was better. He could do this. 

Jimin nodded again.

“Guy of few words,” the guy leaned in, tucking a strand of hair from Jimin’s face. 

Jimin nodded again, returning his smile with a little more flirty interest.

The guy was still leaning in, carefully, eyes darting to Jimin’s eyes behind the mask and Jimin took a deep breath before raising himself up on his tiptoes to meet their lips together and it was …

… okay, he supposed.

It was warm and hot in his mouth, wet when the tall guy pushed past his lips, maybe a little sloppy, but that was Jimin’s doing and he knew it. The angle was a bit uncomfortable too, his head titling up to meet the guys fumbling lips, the complete lack of hesitance as he pushed his tongue past Jimin’s lips way before he was ready. It was open mouthed and messy, saliva dragging over the sides of Jimin’s mouths until they were able to build up some sort of rhythm and then it matched once more, turning into a very standard sort of make out.

It was okay.

When the guy pulled back, a smile on his lips as he looked behind them to the doors muttering, “Should I get us a key?” Jimin nodded.

As the guys grip and heat left Jimin, Jimin bit into his lip. It was okay… just okay. He scoffed softly at the thought, guess he didn’t click with this guy like he did with the Masked Stranger. Guess it didn’t matter either. It would be awkward for a bit, right? And then it would get easier. After a few more kisses. Once the actual sex started. Yeah, it would be fine.

A hand was wrapping around his wrist, tugging him and waking him up from his thoughts.

“Let’s go,” the guy leaned in close to say.

Jimin nodded and followed.

He was tugged aside, through the hall through the rooms, to number… eighteen of all things.

Jimin smirked at the memories before the smirk fell away and he was being pulled in. The door closed behind him, the lock sounding shortly afterwards and it made Jimin jolt.

The guy turned around, tugging off his jacket, kicking off his shoes. He nodded at Jimin to do the same. And, oh, okay, they were jumping right into it, weren’t they.

Jimin kicked off his shoes as well, sitting on the bed to do so and had barely gotten the second shoe off when he was being pushed back, his spine hitting the mattress. He stuttered a nervous laugh at the boy over him, the one pushing his way between Jimin’s legs, fingers prodding at the soft expanse of his thighs, falling around to cup his ass.

“Damn,” the boy hissed, leaning down and latching his lips onto Jimin’s neck.

Jimin’s smile died. “Careful,” he stuttered out. “No marks. You- you can’t leave marks.”

The guy laughed at that, teasing, and, oddly enough, it wasn’t sweet like the Yoongi lookalikes at all.

Jimin tried to shake away the thought, because he wasn’t here to think about the Yoongi lookalike. And he especially wasn’t here to think about Yoongi.

But then the guy spoke, “Would you get in trouble?” He cooed it like talking to a baby.

Jimin pushed him back a little. “Yes,” he said, forcing authority into his voice.

The guy leaned closer, breath fanning Jimin’s cheek. “But don’t you like danger?” He titled his head, leaning down and pressing his lips back to the same spot, muttering. “Doesn’t it get you excited?”

Jimin shoved him back with actual force this time. “I asked you not to,” Jimin insisted. “So don’t.”

“Geez,” the guy through his hands up in surrender, scoffing. “Sensitive, aren’t you.” He was still over Jimin when he smirked. “Feisty though. I like that.”

Jimin was getting ready to ask him if he could stop talking when lips met his again.


He could do this.

This was fine.

The boy was grinding low, and Jimin could feel his body reacting, but couldn’t help the feeling of distaste that was still clinging to the entire encounter.

It hadn’t felt like this with his Masked Stranger. Hadn’t felt this way at all. It had felt natural and fine and he wasn’t sure he wanted anything less.

As the guy’s hand groped Jimin’s dick with a force he personally found unnecessary, Jimin began to wonder what the hell he was doing at all. Why was he here with this guy? How was this going to prove he didn’t like Yoongi? Because really, all he could think about was how disappointed his Hyung would be if he knew he was here right now, doing this. He could almost perfectly envision the look of concern if Jimin told him he hooked up with a guy who had called him a thing and tried to leave marks after he asked him not to, a guy who was being way too rough right now.

He imagined what Yoongi would do if he saw him right now. How he’d probably throw the guy off him demanding a what the fuck are you doing, how he’d make sure Jimin was okay, take him home, take care of him like he had that night when Jimin had fallen asleep on his shoulder in the car and ––

Belatedly, Jimin realized he really wanted someone to walk in right then to stop this.

That definitely isn’t how you’re supposed to feel during sex.

Pain pinched the skin on Jimin’s neck.

“Stop,” Jimin said as the guy sunk his teeth to nibble at Jimin’s collar. His hand shoved the guy back.

“Whoa,” the guy held out his hand. “I was just trying to have some fun.”

“I told you not to,” Jimin narrowed his gaze, anger pulsing through him. “Get off me. I’m not doing this.” He shoved the guy again, off setting his balance so that the boy toppled over to the mattress as Jimin stood up, tugging his pants back on correctly, struggling with the zipper in his haste.

“What the fuck,” the guy demanded from where he was laying on the bed. “Fine, if it means that much to you, I won’t leave marks.”

Jimin turned to look at him. “You shouldn’t have tried to after I said no.”

“So sensitive,” the guy snapped. “Good god. You know how bottoms are, so submissive. They say no but they never mean it. They like it when you test it. I just thought you were trying to push my buttons, rile me up, get me to change your mind.”

Jimin bared his teeth. “I’m not submissive, dickwad.” He snatched up his shoes from the floor.

“You’re really leaving?” the guy stood up then, a scoff in his tone and Jimin was reminded of just how big the guy was in comparison to Jimin.

“Yes,” Jimin said like it was obvious, because it was.

“But I already paid for the room,” he waved out his hand.

“Then jack off in it or something, find someone else, I don’t care.” 

Shoes still in hand, Jimin turned to leave.

A hand gripped him on the arm.

Jimin whipped back appalled. “Let go,” he demanded.

The guy drug him closer and Jimin’s eyes widened. “Let go!” He said louder.

“I paid forty bucks for this room for an hour. You gonna pay it back?” 

Jimin wrenched his wallet from the pocket of his jeans, shaking his head anger setting fire to his veins as he flipped it open and ––

He forgot cash.

Jimin sunk his teeth into his lip.

He couldn’t give this guy his card? What the shit. He’d get in so much trouble if he was found out. So much fucking trouble.

“I don’t have any cash,” Jimin said dejectedly, looking up to meet the guy’s gaze.

He scoffed, grip still tight on Jimin’s arm. “You didn’t bring any money? Are you stupid?”

Forgetful, not stupid, Jimin supplied in his own head. 

“Guess you’ll have to pay me back another way.”

Jimin gaped at the words, at the implication, his shock rendering his speechless as the guy’s grip on his wrist twisted, and he was being pushed back towards the bed.

He missed it though, back hitting the vertical side of the mattress as he sunk to the ground.

“I expect forty bucks out of you,” he smirked slyly, hand’s tugging in Jimin’s hair.

Jimin grabbed his wrists, purposely sinking his nails in and trying to tear his grip away.

“Relax,” the guy pulled one arm back, tugging his button free and loosening the zipper. “You don’t even have to do anything. Just open your mouth for me and you can sit there and look pretty like the little ––.”

Jimin’s words were still gone, lost somewhere behind the fist that seemed lodged in his own throat, choking him. But his feet worked just fine, so he slid done, tailbone pressed to the rough carpet and kicked with all of the force he had in him (which was a lot).

The guy keeled over and Jimin scampered up, grabbing his shoes and fleeing the room.

The dusty cement pounded under his feet, people casting his strange looks as he barreled out of there, choking over the dust at the entrance. He handed out the number, looking carefully over his shoulder as he halfhazardly shoved his feet into his shoes. He pulled his jacket over his stained shirt, his black surgical mask over his face and took off into the night.

The cool air felt like ice against the heat burning his skin.

As he rushed through the streets he dimly became aware of the fact that he was crying. He turned around, walking backwards from the club and tried to wipe his eyes.

Trembling fingers tugged the phone from his pocket and he pressed the lock button, clicking the phone icon and clicking on the name at the top of his recents.


It rang twice as he held it to his ear, twice before he was pulling it away and hanging up as a whole new surge of panic overtook him because how could he possibly explain this?

Jimin crouched in the middle of the sidewalk until he could calm his breathing, somehow found his way to the dance studio despite feeling numb, managed to wash away all the evidence of the night, including his tears, before stepping out only to find more tears streaming down his face. He put on clean clothes and threw the old ones away. He never wanted to see them again.

He sniffled to himself as he walked up the landing, wiped his eyes again as he unlocked the front door and stepped in.

Jimin found himself hesitating outside Yoongi’s door, desperately wanting to wake him up, to tug him out to the hallway or maybe the studio and just tell him everything. If anyone was going to love him through this that wasn’t Taehyung, it would be Yoongi.

Yoongi with his gummy smile and his soft touches, with the way he’d just yell if he was embarrassed, or would always reach for an empty hand.

Jimin stepped away. He couldn’t lost that. Couldn’t lose Yoongi because Jimin’s sexuality was a threat to that boys entire livelihood, his entire dream. And Jimin could hardly imagine Yoongi without his dream.

He’ll be mad, Jimin thought though it didn’t really seem true even to him.

Jimin tried to fall into his own bed and forget, tried but he couldn’t. So instead he fell into Taehyung’s bed, jostling the other into consciousness as he blinked up at him.

“Jiminie?” Taehyung was already making room, already scooting aside, concern pressing his face even in the dark.

Jimin sniffed as he pushed his way against Tae, feeling the taller’s arms wrap around him.

“What is it?” He cooed, hands brushing through Jimin’s still damp hair. “What happened?”

“I went back to that club,” Jimin admitted.

Taehyung’s hand stilled, his grip around his friend tightening. “Did you get hurt?” Taehyung prodded carefully.

Jimin nodded, “Not physically… I mean, not really, but –– but yeah.” He stifled another sob.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Taehyung asked soothingly, hands pushing back through Jimin’s hair.

“Tomorrow,” Jimin sniffed. “Not now.”

“Okay, Jiminie,” Taehyung nodded. “Okay.”

Jimin was surprised that he was actually able to fall asleep that night. But, he supposed, with Taehyung’s hands holding him close, hand petting through his hair and brushing away his tears it was a lot easier than it would’ve been.

Chapter Text

“I’m going to kill him,” Taehyung threw out his fist, positively fuming, the boys face turning red and Jimin was shocked just from the notion that he couldn’t actually recall the last time Taehyung had been angry at something.

Jimin fiddled with his hands where he sat on Taehyung’s bed.

Hoseok had been kind enough to give them space when Taehyung had politely asked, but it hadn’t kept the concern from his face after he shook both boys awake after finding them in the same bed. Jimin hadn’t gotten a good look at himself, but he was sure it could be somewhat apparent that he’d pent the night crying from the way Hoseok had looked at him.

“You can’t,” Jimin said with a shrug. He’d told Taehyung the story, kept it brief for both their sakes. “I don’t even know who he is.”

“That’s so messed up, Jimin,” Taehyung was pacing. “That’s so messed up. He called you submissive, like it was degrading, like you were ––.”

“A slut,” Jimin finished for him.

Taehyung was there then, tugging at the boys face until he was looking at him. “You’re not a slut,” he said firmly.

“Kinda feel like one,” Jimin smiled as if it were supposed to be a joke. It didn’t feel like a joke.

“You’re not,” Taehyung assured. “And you didn’t do anything wrong and there’s nothing wrong with you.” 

Jimin smiled softly at Taehyung, wanting to believe the words.

“I can’t believe he did that to you,” Taehyung said with a dejected sigh. “I’m so sorry, Chim. You didn’t deserve that.”

Jimin nodded along.

Taehyung reached out, thumb brushing over his neck and Jimin flinched at the sharp pain.

“I can’t believe he left a mark,” Taehyung sighed.

Jimin could feel it. He hadn’t dared look at it yet, but even at Taehyung’s acknowledgement, he tried to laugh, but it just came out as a sob.

“Oh, Jimin.”

“How do I explain?” He tried. 

“We’ll say I did it to you,” Taehyung nodded.

Jimin wrinkled his nose at the thought.

“You slept in my bed, we were cuddling, I was dreaming of waffles or something and I just bit you on accident,” Taehyung was nodding along like it was the greatest idea in the world.

“Or I could wear makeup,” Jimin supplied.

“I just mean if someone sees it,” but the boy was already walking off to collect Jimin’s foundation for him.

Jimin traced the pain with his fingers where it rested on his neck.

His arm too. The one the guy had twisted, it was bruised now too.

“I’m just glad you got away,” Taehyung handed him the foundation and tugged the boy against him, latching on once more.

There was an implication in those words that had Jimin’s breath stuttering.

“Are you going to go back?” Taehyung pressed then.

Jimin didn’t answer.

“Okay,” Taehyung said weakly.

“I don’t know, Tae,” Jimin offered weakly.

Taehyung sat back and took the boy’s foundation from him, pushing some onto his fingers. It wasn’t the most ceremonious way of doing it, but Taehyung was careful as he rubbed it into Jimin’s skin until the sharp color of the bruise faded away.

“There,” he said with a small smile when he was finished.


Yoongi’s knee was bouncing where he sat on the couch. “What do you mean he looked like he’d been crying?”

Hoseok shrugged at the question, concern still widening his eyes as he spoke to the others. He’d meant it only as a warning of sorts to maybe be a little careful around Jimin that day, but his words were concerning, and that didn’t lessen even when he repeated them.

“I don’t know, Yoongi,” Hoseok huffed. “But he came home super late last night, like one in the morning late, and I heard him crying. Taehyung was comforting him so I let it go, but he woke up this morning and he looks like he’s been crying all night. And I don’t know what happened, but don’t say anything,” he whined.

Yoongi narrowed his gaze, opening his mouth to protest as he heard a door click open. A moment later, the two spoken of boys were making their way around the corner and — yeah, Jimin looked like he had been crying. With his face puffy, cheeks red, and his small sniffle the sadness was apparent, even when Jimin smiled at them softly, ducking down because even though everyone had tried to ‘act natural’ at his arrival, they combined had the subtlety of a stampede. So their glances all darted out to the boy, concern evident.

Jimin chose to just ignore it, walking through the room to flop onto the couch. “What’s todays agenda?” He asked.

Every one looked away as if in sync as Namjoon listed off their schedule for the day which consisted of some early dance practice before a radio interview.

Jimin hummed from his seat.

He wasn’t listening.

Yoongi could tell.

Yoongi closer to the boy from where he sat on the couch, getting a curious expression from Jimin as he inclined his chin to be able to see Yoongi. Yoongi curled his fingers under the boys head, scooting nearer gently resting the boys head to his lap.

Jimin pouted up at him as if the action was unnecessary.

Yoongi just stared down at him, raising an eyebrow as if to say, and what are you going to do about it?

The answer was apparently no as Jimin only shifted to get more comfortable on Yoongi’s bony thighs, which included turning on his side, facing Yoongi’s stomach.

The boy sighed out his nose and Yoongi pushed his hands through his hair. “You wanna talk about it?” He murmured, letting the clanking of dishes and small talk from the kitchen hide his own words from the others.

Jimin shook his head.

“Alright, Jimin-ah,” he said soothingly. “That’s alright.”

“I’m okay, you know,” he muttered up, turning to look at Yoongi.

“Okay enough that I can stop this,” and Yoongi stilled his fingers, drawing from Jimin’s hair.

Jimin whined like a child, “Hyung,” knocking a weak fist against Yoongi’s chest until the older snuffed his laugh and resumed the ministrations. 

Jimin smiled as Yoongi prodded through his hair. And this was good. Yoongi liked this. Jimin was smiling and that was good and ––

“Hey, Chim.” Namjoon shuffled over, sitting down on the side that Jimin’s head rested on.

Jimin tensed in his lap. 

Yoongi turned to Namjoon, giving him a look that said, drop it.

Which Namjoon returned with a shrug and a look that seemed to say, I can’t. 

Yoongi scowled at their leader. “Not right now,” he hissed in a whisper.

Namjoon threw out his hand to gesture to Jimin.

Jimin sat up abruptly and Namjoon jerked his hand back, pushing it through his hair and acting nonchalant as Jimin looked at both of them with a frown bordering on a pout. And Yoongi was probably pouting himself because he’d lost Jimin in his lap and how often did he actually get that.

Jimin was looking at Namjoon, raising an eyebrow, almost challenging on ‘say it.’

“Are you okay?” Namjoon finally said. “If there’s something wrong, you should talk about it. We’re all here if you ––.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jimin snapped, voice cold and distant.

Defensive. He was just being defensive. 

“Jimin, I ––.”

“I’m fine,” he said, but even as he said it he looked like he was about to cry again. “It was stupid and it doesn’t mean anything, so just drop it.”

He stood up and walked away, down the hall to his room. A door slammed and Namjoon jumped.

Joon whipped to Yoongi. “He’s never gotten that mad.”

Yoongi just sighed, slouching back into the couch.

Taehyung fiddled with his hands between the kitchen and the living space.

“Do you know something?” Namjoon tried, grasping at straws.

Taehyung jolted, narrowing his gaze at Namjoon that spoke clearer than any words, ‘I’m not telling,’ before Taehyung walked back into the kitchen.


Yoongi wished he could say that it got better, wished he could say that Jimin’s smile returned fully to his features within a day, that whatever had made him crawl into Taehyung’s bed and cry loud enough that it woke up Hoseok went away –– but it didn’t.

Because their schedules were booked with interviews since the release of their latest album and they were always going from somewhere to somewhere else and Jimin just… he just didn’t look happy. He’d smile for the interviews and laugh for the people and then they’d get in the car and he’d just stare out the window with a lost sort of bored look on his face. It would remain until Taehyung would shuffle over to him, always pulling him into a hug and patting his head and muttering things to him the rest of them couldn’t hear.

It went on for longer than Yoongi was comfortable with –– only a couple days, but still more than Yoongi was comfortable with –– and everyone was trying. Jungkook was being sweeter, and Namjoon was trying to be supportive, and Hoseok was trying to cheer him up,  –– but it just seemed to make Jimin shrink further into himself.

They’d been living together for years. And it was the first time since they’d grown close that Yoongi felt like he was still looking at that shy, self conscious kid from Busan who shrunk away from everything and remained at a cautious distance from everyone, (except Taehyung who had pushed his way into Jimin’s life from the very first meeting.)

It hurt in a way Yoongi had grown unfamiliar with.

And it was making things amongst the members tense.

So, after a day of dance practice and more interviews, Namjoon sent out a message that they’d have a band dinner with take out and what he dubbed ‘a talk.’ Jimin, who sat in the make up chair beside Yoongi’s own didn’t even try to hide his huff as he stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

Yoongi had to hand it to Namjoon, he kept away from the obvious ‘elephant in the room’ for awhile, instead filling the conversation with talk about their interviews and what was to come and how they all needed to be taking care of their health and eating right, which was a little lost over the take out containers stretching over the table.

But then the inevitable came, just as Yoongi noticed that Jimin had barely eaten. He nudged some food closer to the younger, but Jimin just turned away.

Yoongi frowned.

“So, now,” Namjoon continued, squeezing his hands in front of him. “If anyone has anything they’d like to talk about, I just want to say that we’re all hear for you and want to help and…”

Namjoon faded out under the sharp glare coming from Jimin, who’d sat back, arms crossed.

“ChimChim,” Taehyung said soothingly, reaching for the barely older boy. He tugged his hand and muttered something to the boy, trying to calm him down, but it was easy to see it wasn’t working.

“Jimin,” Seokjin reached over the table for his hand, but Jimin never offered it. “We’re just worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Jimin stated simply.

“You’re obviously not,” Jungkook offered, looking down when Jimin turned to him.

Yoongi straightened. “Hey,” he held out his hands, looking to the others, “We’re not here as an intervention or anything,” he looked to them first and then to Jimin. “We’re not trying to corner you or interrogate you. You don’t have to tell us what’s wrong.”

There was a sound of protest from Seokjin.

“What do you mean ––,” Hoseok started.

“You don’t have to tell us anything,” he reached for Jimin’s hand, pulling the younger’s arm from where they clung to him. “Just tell us how to help you. What do you want us to do?”

“I want you to stop t-treating me like I ––,” Jimin’s voice broke and he choked over a sob forming in his throat as the tears clung to his eyes. “L-like you’re worried about me.”

“But we are worried about you, Chim,” Seokjin offered.

“But I don’t want you to be,” he sat up, hands falling into his lap. “I just want you to treat me normally.”

“We can do that,” Namjoon offered. 

Jimin reached up and wiped his eye, sniffling softly.

That night, as Yoongi laid in bed, he could still see the faint glow of a light somewhere in their dorm on, which wasn’t terribly concerning if not for the hour. Yoongi fought against his own impulse to just roll over and continue trying to fall asleep and sat up, padding out of his and Seokjin’s room to their living space.

It was there that Jimin sat on the couch, the lamp on and a book in the boys hand as he shuffled through the pages.

Leaning against the wall, Yoongi watched him for a moment.

He looked soft like this, his eyes darting over the lines, his legs tucked beside him.

“Why don’t you ever sleep?” Yoongi drawled.

Jimin jolted, turning to face him as he blinked up at the older boy. “Oh, hi, Hyung.”

Yoongi pushed himself from the wall, walking nearer to the boy. “Whatcha reading?” He sat down on the couch beside him.

“Oh, uh,” Jimin smiled, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “It’s a little - uh, it –– its kinda childish and I ––.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Jimin,” Yoongi said. “Or anyone else for that matter.”

Jimin looked at him, stared as if in some sort of awe before closing his book and looking down at the couch. “Thank you, for what you said at dinner.”

Yoongi nodded his head once.

“I know,” Jimin went on, “that you all care and just want to help. But I,” Jimin looked off to the side, a small frown on his face as he said, “I don’t think anyone can help with this one.”

“You’ve told Tae, right?” Yoongi leaned back.

Jimin nodded.

“Okay,” Yoongi crossed his arms. “You should have someone who knows.”

Jimin nodded.

“You should go to sleep,” Yoongi pressed.

“I’m not really tired,” Jimin shrugged. “Besides, I can’t fall asleep.”

Yoongi made an exaggerated motion of yawning as he stretched out, leaning until he fell on top of Jimin.

“Hyung,” the boy complained.

Yoongi shuffled, his movements getting Jimin to scoot forward so he could fall in the space between the boy and the back of the couch. He threw his arm over the younger’s waist. “Well, neither can I, so you should read to me.”

Jimin turned eon his back to look at Yoongi curiously. “Out loud?”

Yoongi nodded.

“Do you want me to start over?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Just read.”

“But I’m halfway through. You won’t know what’s going on.”

“Don’t need to,” Yoongi let his eyes fall closed. “I just like the sound of your voice.”

The night’s quiet persisted until the shuffling of pages took over. Only then did Jimin’s voice sound out into the quiet, soothing and low, the words twisted over his tongue and Yoongi smiled against it, tightening his grip on the younger until sleep finally took him.

And if the others woke up to find the two fast asleep on the couch, curled around each other with a book lost between their bodies, no one mentioned it.


Yoongi sent the text and immediately proceeded to toss his phone on his bed, the anxiousness twisting up in his gut. It was still so weird. So not him to text someone for sex. He felt like a pervert. Did this make them Masked Boy his booty call? Was he the boy’s? Was that weird?

Young sighed, sitting on his bed.

He supposed the weirdest thing of it all was that he’d been laid more in the last month than he had in the year leading up to it. His frequenting of the club used to be a rare occurrence, used to be something he would wait months before doing it again. But there was something so intoxicating about the younger boy he’d met, something that not only had him wanting more, but had him willing to put in the effort to get it.

Which is why his stomach finally unknotted when his phone dinged from an incoming message. He scampered to grab it, sighing in relief at the acceptance of his proposition: tonight works. itll be awhile before I can sneak away though

That’s fine, Young responded. Tell me when and I’ll be there.

11 :)

Young sent a thumbs up emoji and fell back against his mattress.

Eleven seemed to arrive with a dull crawl. Yoongi excused himself to the studio way in advance, giving a simple, “don’t wait up.” He spun in his chair until the time passed by and he could head off to the club.

The noises seemed amplified that particular night as Yoongi maneuvered through the crowds. He tried to wait it out for all of a minute before he was walking to the bar and ordering a room key.

Im in room 6, he texted simply.

someones eager ;), he got in response. 

Yoongi rolled his eyes, checking his mask as he pushed his way into the room. He left it unlocked, hoping no weirdos came in and flopped on the bed.

A timid knock sounded a bit later. 

Yoongi pushed himself up to open the door.

Lips locked onto his jaw a moment later, arms wrapping tight around his neck as Yoongi just barely managed to kick the door closed.

“I’m glad you texted,” the boy hummed into Yoongi’s neck.

“You okay?” Yoongi prodded, stepping back, the boy following in turn. While the boy’s hands rested at Yoongi’s shoulders, a small space between them.

“Just been a long week.”



“Anything I can do to help?” Yoongi tried.

The boy nodded, pushing him back by his chest so that the backs of his legs hit the mattress. When Yoongi didn’t quite fall back like the boy seemed to have anticipated, he frowned, giving another small push to offset Yoongi into falling back on the bed.

The older huffed.

The younger laughed, hands falling back to Yoongi’s shoulders as he crawled into the older’s lap.

It was too easy to kiss the boy, Yoongi decided. Kissing was fine and all, in Yoongi’s opinion. But fine was usually where it ended. People tended to either be overzealous in their efforts, or the complete opposite and would just sit there.

For all of the younger’s inexperience, he made up for it with a careful enthusiasm that had Yoongi melting. Besides, the boy seemed to be aware of how sinful his lips were, relying on them to tug and push, breaching past Yoongi’s own lips. He relied on them more than his tongue which would tentatively sneak out every now again, determined and with a plan -–

Basically, kissing this boy was strangely alluring in a way Yoongi hadn’t experienced with another person.

And he really, really wanted to feel them around his ––

“Hyung,” the boy pulled back with a soft click of their lips separating. 

“Hm,” Yoongi hummed, trying to meet the younger’s lips again, his hands rested securely around his waist to hold him in place.

The boy laughed and pulled back. “Come on, Hyung. I wanna ask you to do something.”

“Anything,” Yoongi said, ‘within reason,’ he finished in his head.

The boy got a sly smile as he leaned in close, tongue flicking over the bottom of Yoongi’s ear as he nibbled the side and whispered. “Teach me how to suck dick.”

“Yah,” Yoongi jolted, almost offsetting the boy’s balance as he laughed. “What are you talking about?” Yoongi shook his head, trying to remove the blush from his cheeks. “You’ve done that before.”

Yeah,” he said like it was obvious. “I can suck it, but I wanna do it like you do it. I want to get it all in.”

Yoongi swallowed. “You want me to teach you to deep throat me?”

The younger bobbed his head in a nod.

Yoongi choked over air for half a minute before he nodded. “Okay. Okay, yeah. How do you ––?”

The younger slid from his lap. “Like this,” he nodded.

“Yeah,” it came out shaky. “Yeah, sure, um ––.”

“Pants,” the younger supplied.

“Right, that,” Yoongi nodded. He stood up for a moment, finding himself unable of tearing his gaze away from the boy who was literally on his knees in front of him as he scampered off the belt and dropped his pants.

The boy giggled softly behind his hand as he reached up to help the older with his underwear, in which Yoongi lost his breath all together.

His ass was hitting the bed again and that boy was between his legs, looking at him expectantly and: right. instructions

“Um,” Yoongi started off strongly. “What you’ve done before was great to –  great to start off with, so you can ––.”

The boy’s lips wrapped around the top of Yoongi’s dick and he chocked over his own words as he felt the younger’s tongue dart out tentatively.

Shit,” Yoongi threaded his hands through the boy’s hair.

He was already hard, embarrassingly so, and as the younger drew his mouth from the tip to the base, his lips trying to hold on with as much pressure as possible, sucking along the vein that Yoongi didn’t even know ran the side of his cock.

He let out a groan as the Youngers sucked over the tip again, blinking up to look at Yoongi from behind the mask.

He popped his lips off with a wet sound and Yoongi felt as breathless as the younger looked.

“Now what?” The boy’s tongue darted out to give a kitten lick to the tip.

Yoongi bit his own lip to keep his sounds in line. “Okay,” Yoongi nodded, as if talking himself up to the task rather than the boy in front of him. “Start slow, okay? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

The boy smiled softly at that.

Yoongi’s hand moved from the boy’s hair to hold his jaw, helping him angle. “Please don’t bit me,” he added.

The boy burst into laughter, pulling his head away as it wracked his whole body.

Yoongi bit his lip, tilting his head at the sight. Cute, he thought. Kinda like… He shook his head, not letting himself finish the thought as the boy returned his face in front of Yoongi’s cock, holding it carefully, his breath fanning over the skin. 

Yoongi held his jaw softly. “Careful of the angle.”

The boy nodded, sitting up higher in his knees, his head falling to rest against Yoongi’s abdomen as he took the tip back in his mouth, back between his lips. 

“Slowly,” Yoongi cautioned, but it came out much more panicked than Yoongi intended as the boy started to slide down. The boy pressed his tongue up against the side of the member sinking into his mouth.

Yoongi could feel the beginnings of the boy’s throat rather than his mouth when the met heat engulfing him got tighter and hotter and the boy swallowed and Yoongi almost bucked up, because shit. 

The boy pulled back from Yoongi’s cock, now slicked with spit, to regain his breathing.

“Through your nose,” Yoongi instructed, carding his hands through the boys hair.

“This is hard,” the boy smiled up at him, voice already hoarse and Yoongi couldn’t help his fond smile.

“Take your time,” Yoongi assured.

The boy went again, taking him in as much as he had before and pushing down still. Yoongi groaned at the feeling.

“Hold my hips down,” Yoongi instructed, feeling the boy’s small hands rest in the bends of his legs and push, a curious look playing on his leg.

“I don’t want to thrust up and hurt you,” Yoongi explained.

The boy seemed to accept that as he pushed further down, his breathing escaping his through his nose which fanned against the skin just below Yoongi’s stomach.

The boy fitted Yoongi completely down his throat, pulling off with a slick sound and a question in his eyes and Yoongi moaned, head falling back.

“Perfect,” Yoongi groaned out, dropping his head to look down at the boy again. “You’re perfect.”

The boy went down on him again and Yoongi tried to buck up, glad the boy’s grip held him down as he tightened his hands into his dust stained locks. 

The boy pulled back to bob at the tip, sinking down to the base and then back up again and Yoongi had been gone from the start, but now he was ––

“I’m not going to last much longer.”

The boy pulled off. “I wanna swallow.”

Yoongi cursed under his breath as he nodded along. “Just ––.”

“I know,” the boy assured, a twinkle in his eyes as he returned his lips, kissing the head with a small laugh before sinking his plump lips back over and down to the base. Yoongi let out a guttural sound, rubbing his fingers against the boys scalp. The boy continued with determination, tongue playing with the member in his mouth and Yoongi was there.

“I’m gonna cum.”

The boy gave a small nod, his grip on Yoongi’s thighs tightening.

Yoongi saw stars as it hit him. A final breathless moan falling past his lips as he stuttered. And the boy on his knees took it in stride, pulling back and swallowing heavily as Yoongi’s high drifted away. Only then did the boy pop off the tip, a small wince on his face as he rubbed his own throat.

“Do you want water?” Yoongi asked, realizing his hands were still playing in the younger’s hair.

“You don’t have pants on, Hyung,” the boy rasped.

Yoongi scoffed.

He pulled the younger up, pushing him against the bed as he scampered for his underwear and pants. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

The boy curled up, waving his hand. “Not going anywhere.”


The Masked Stranger came back with a glass of water which Jimin accepted graciously, taking swigs in stride and coughing over the rough feeling in his throat. The Masked Stranger sat on the bed, criss-cross as he regarded Jimin in turn.

“Are you okay?” The older pressed.

Jimin nodded. “That was fun.”

Theo older scoffed a laugh. “Was it now?”

Jimin nodded. “Thanks for teaching me,” he said behind the glass in his hands. 

“Thanks for offering,” the boy mumbled with a small smile. “Tell me when you’re ready and I’ll return the favor, yeah?”

Jimin swirled the water in the glass. “Okay, hyung.”

He must’ve sounded unsure, because the older said, “Unless you don’t want me to.”

“It’s not that,” Jimin waved his hand. “Just, a minute?”

“Of course,” the older said, but he sounded concerned still, which was only enunciated by his adding, “Hey,” he scooted closer, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Jimin rushed to say. “Of course I’m okay ––.”

“You do realize you have nothing to lose, right?” The boy interrupted.

“What?” Jimin tilted his head.

“I know nothing about you and you know nothing about me. You could tell me what it is. I’ll listen. And it won’t hurt you.”

Jimin sighed. “Yeah, that makes sense,” he muttered, setting the glass in his lap so that his crossed legs held it up. But then instead of saying it, he just sighed, “Why are you so nice?” He looked at him with a disbelieving shake of his head. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“What do you mean?” The masked stranger said, confusion tugging on his features. 

Jimin sighed, staring down. “I came here about a week ago. I thought maybe it was weird that I only ever slept with you when I don’t even know you,” he tossed his hand out in explanation, looking away as his own embarrassment colored his cheeks. “So I came back and I met this guy and…”

The older scooted closer again, hand falling gently onto the younger’s knee, listening attentively.

“He was an ass,” Jimin nodded, feeling the tears already welling up again and he hated it. Hated that he felt so much like a fucking baby sometimes. “He fucking bit me,” Jimin reached up, ducking his head as he pulled the mask aside to wipe his eyes, his face still obscured by the shadows. “I told him not to leave any marks and he kept trying to anyways and then he did, and he was so fucking mean about it all and -and ––.”

The hand on his knee reached instead for his hand, holding it tight while Jimin kept his head turned away, the embarrassment only outmatched by how relieving it felt to tell someone.

“When I tried to leave he said I had to pay him back for the room. So, I went to, but I forgot to bring cash like an idiot ––.” The grip in his hand tightened and he nodded in understanding. “He shoved me to the ground and treated me like garbage and tried to make me ––.” Jimin just shook his head. He didn’t want to say anything more.

“Did you get away?”

Jimin turned his head, surprised by the anger in the older’s voice as he repeated. “I swear to god, if he did something, we’ll – I don’t know, but we’ll do something, there’s gotta be something we can do and I’ll ––.”

“He didn’t –– I got away,” Jimin assured. “I kicked him in the nuts.”

“Good,” the older said. His tone softened as he added, “I’m really sorry that happened to you.”

“Why are you so nice?” Jimin repeated with a shrug. “I don’t get it. You don’t know me.” He stared down at where the older still held his hands.

“You’re a human being,” the older said. “How am I supposed to treat you?”

“Not like this,” Jimin muttered, staring down at their hands.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Jimin said honestly.

“Here, baby,” Yoongi scooted forward. “Let me treat you how you should be.” He kneeled in front of Jimin on the bed, cupping the younger’s face. “I may not know you, but from what I can tell you seem amazing and gorgeous.”

Jimin laughed, wiping at his eyes. “I’m wearing a mask.”

“I would met a million won that under that mask you’re gorgeous.”

Jimin snorted then. “Safe bet. I can never prove you wrong.”

The boy smiled. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Jimin shook his head, leaning over the bed to place his glass down as he said, “I wanna do something.”

“What do you want to do?” The boy asked carefully.

“Just,” Jimin pulled his hands until the older was falling over onto of him. “Do something.”

“Something?” The older taunted, voice low and that smile that was so close to Yoongi’s it hurt playing over his lips. 

“It’ll be fine as long as it’s with you.”

Chapter Text

If Yoongi was being honest, he wasn’t sure why he treated the boy with such care. Like, he would never treat him the way that douchebag did, never even consider it. But Yoongi couldn’t deny that there was a level of care and intimacy he would give to that boy that he wouldn’t give to any other person he met at a club for a hook-up agreement. He supposed it could be that they’d met up about a half dozen times now. Maybe that meant something.

But Yoongi was pretty sure it mostly stemmed from the fact the boy reminded him so much of Jimin.

It was starting to haunt him. 

There had been so many times where the boy had done something that reflected Jimin and it was starting to bother him –– especially after he’d seen the boy cry.

He just wanted to fix it.

He would’ve done anything to stop it and realizing that was strange because he wasn’t supposed to feel that way about a stranger.

Yoongi decided that there was a line somewhere and he had probably crossed it a long time ago.

He stared down at the open chat in his hands. They hadn’t met up in a couple days, which was probably for the best with the stages they’d had to do and good god was Yoongi tired. But the chat still remained there, waiting, beckoning.

And Yoongi was wondering if he should delete the whole app and be done with it.

Two things were keeping him from doing it.

The first being simply that Yoongi didn’t want to. He wanted to meet the boy again. He wanted to have sex with him again.

And even if that wasn’t a good enough reason, Yoongi still couldn’t delete the app because imagining the boy trying to contact him and being upset at finding that he couldn’t, maybe even hurt, had something uncomfortable tightening in Yoongi’s gut.

Yoongi locked his phone and dropped it beside him with a sigh.

He was being selfish. He knew it. But, in what other universe could he have such an almost and –– 

It’s not Jimin. He had to remind himself. It wasn’t him. It was an act, a fake. It wasn’t an almost, it was an illusion.

But he still didn’t want to let go.

Even if it was starting to hurt.

Like it was now, sitting on a couch in the room dedicated to them in their efforts of preparing for a photoshoot. Jimin was in the chair next to Yoongi, simply scrolling through his phone, brow furrowed in mild focus. And Yoongi really needed to stop staring.

The younger boy kept nervously pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, letting it slip back out before pulling it back in again.

And now that Yoongi had an idea of what those lips might look wrapped around him, he was having a hard time not staring. 

Such a hard time, in fact, that Jimin’s brow furrowed further and he turned to the older, raising a brow. “Hyung?” He asked carefully.

Yoongi drew his gaze away, clearing his throat. “Sorry,” he swallowed. “Zoned out.”

Jimin returned to his phone, but when Yoongi chanced a glance over, he could see a small smile playing over the younger’s lips, amused perhaps.

Either way, Yoongi had to suppress his own smile as he simply thought, damn, he’s beautiful.

… Maybe he should tell him.

Yoongi cleared his throat again as their makeup artists fluttered away for half a second. Jimin glanced up at him. 

“Hey, Jimin,” Yoongi started, already feeling his throat go dry as he continued on, “You know you’re beautiful right?”

Jimin’s face slacked immediately, eyes blinking wide in a shock that was quickly taken over with a faint blush as he ducked away. “Aish, what are you saying?” He shook his head, but Yoongi could see the smile on his lips.

It made him smile in turn. Everyone knew how much Jimin liked being praised. Yoongi suspected it was in attempt to offset his own self doubt in many aspects of who he was. But there was a genuine care in how the boy took the compliments offered onto himself, like they were more important to him than to the people giving them out. Yoongi kinda considered it like little seeing a young child receive gifts of trinkets or little treasures –– while not very important to others, you could often see the light in the child’s eyes as they took it, the happiness of receiving something so small.

Compliments weren’t an easy thing for Yoongi to give out, always making him feel awkward and flustered.

But when it was Jimin, it was worth it.

When it was Jimin, he wanted to.

“I mean it, you know,” Yoongi added, a slight breathlessness in how good it felt to be able to admit how he saw the younger. And, yeah, maybe it wasn’t the easiest or most common compliment he could’ve let slip, but it was the one he meant the most. And he knew he could get away with it, if just barely.

Seeing Jimin flustered made it worth it.

The boy was waving his hand at the older. “It’s just the make-up,” he excused.

“Definitely not,” Yoongi said and damnit, even he could hear how soft he sounded for the boy.

How can you not know how I feel?


Flashes from cameras continued to press as commands dictated the groups poses and actions and Jimin… Jimin wasn’t feeling too great. He wasn’t sure if he could identify the ache, as it didn’t seem to really be stemming from anything physical, more like a deep set discomfort in his bones that was making him restless.

Which meant posing for a camera for well over an hour was not helping.

By the time the shoot had finished, Jimin felt claustrophobic. In the car with the others, he barely managed more than a couple words, keeping his head bent, feeling as if his throat was closing up on him every time he swallowed.

They stopped for food, and though Jimin ordered to prevent the worried looks he knew would follow, he never actually pulled anything from the bag.

Maybe he’d be hungry later. He could reheat it. Right now, though, he couldn’t even imagine chocking anything down despite it bearing eight at night with their last meal having taken place some time before the afternoon was fully in motion.

“I think I’m going to go to the studio,” Jimin announced to no one in particular, holding tight to his paper bag. “I’m feeling kind of restless after all those pictures. I want practice for a bit.”

Namjoon looked up at him from his own bag of food before giving a nod and saying, “That should be fine.”

 Which was Namjoon’s way of assuring Jimin that he could.

Which meant that it wasn’t even an hour later that Jimin was in the familiar room, the rest of the building strikingly abandoned at the late hour. Jimin had simply grey sweatpants on, a white t-shirt to match and even after such a short period of throwing himself into the music blaring from above, Jimin could feel the perspiration clinging to his skin.

Yoongi had called him beautiful.

Had said it with a level of care Jimin couldn’t have imagined if he tried, could barely get to repeat through his awareness with the clarity Jimin had felt for just a second when he first heard it.

Because, that couldn’t be right.

Yoongi wasn’t opposed to compliments necessarily, he just didn’t give them out as often as, say, Hoseok or even Seokjin or Namjoon. Yoongi kinda had a knack for being silent about his feelings for as long as possible before randomly slipping in a proclamation of endearment or a compliment while trying to pretend that it was no big deal.

But Jimin couldn’t think of a time when he’d been complimented quite like that ––

–– or maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe it was that he couldn’t think of a time where he’d felt like that while receiving a compliment.

The striking clarity that came in such a heated rush was only outweighed by how flustered Jimin felt, how elevated he was by it all.

It didn’t make any sense, Jimin assured himself as he completed a complicated turn, feeling the movements come almost like muscle memory with how distracted he was from what he was doing.

Because in his head all he could think about was Yoongi. Yoongi, who had tucked him in and wiped the make-up off his face; Yoongi, who had laid down behind him and asked Jimin to read to him –– said something about how he liked the sound of Jimin’s voice, had held him around the waist, had been so kind, so easy to fall asleep next to. Yoongi who had scared the hell out of him when he’d first joined the band, but had put such an effort into not scaring Jimin that it turned almost comical. He’d easy won over Jimin’s trust and just about everything else.

In his mind, Jimin was remembering their first concerts, how nervous Yoongi had been, but when he’d seen Jimin shaking, he’d held both of Jimin’s hands in one of his to keep the boy from tearing at his fingers like he sometimes did when he was nervous. Jimin was remembering how flustered the older had gotten when Jimin had attended his basketball game only to cheer as loud as he could –– how flustered the older usually seemed to get around him.

Jimin felt — 

Well, he felt like… he was kinda… maybe… just the tiniest bit in love with the older.

Jimin stopped dancing as the thought fluttered through his head, the sudden stop toppling his balance and he collapsed to the studios wood floor.

Because Jimin could think of maybe five guaranteed ways to completely destroy not only his career but his friend’s and while murder was on that list, falling in love with one of his male bandmates was also on that list.

The tightening of claustrophobia seemed to wrench against Jimin’s chest. He had to stop. He had to stop it right now. Maybe it wasn’t what he thought. Surely Jimin wasn’t falling in love, that was stupid. Jimin knew he was a sucker for compliments, maybe that was it. Maybe Jimin was just confused after finding out he’d been gay this whole time. Maybe he was confused because of the stranger that looked like the older. Maybe ––

It doesn’t matter, Jimin cut himself off, staring up into the mirror across the room. The realization sinking in with a cruel laugh. It didn’t matter because Jimin could never act on it even if it were true. Besides, Jimin considered as he pushed himself back up on shaking legs to stand, Yoongi wasn’t gay.


Yoongi took a deep breath from where he sat on the couch. He closed the book he hadn’t actually been reading and threw it onto the floor with a huff. He leaned over, elbows propped on his knees and rested his face in his hands.

He’d seen.

Sometimes Yoongi felt like he was the only one who saw as much as he did. The only one who noticed when Jimin would skip a meal or when he’d spend too many nights awake.

Yoongi had seen the boy hold his bag but never actually take any food out of it, had actually managed to see it beyond the flurry of the others hungrily devouring their meals like their lives depended on it.

And Jimin had quietly held the bag and never actually taken a single thing out of it.

When he’d asked if he could go to the studio, Yoongi about lost his breath.

There were very few things that had scared Yoongi –– or maybe really any of them, Jimin included –– as much as that time than when Jimin had blacked out. 

Jimin had not been okay that day, but at the time, it was kinda hard to find a day when he was. Yoongi remembered that period of time with multiple things regarding Jimin: 

First, he was losing a lot of weight. The definitive roundness to the boy’s cheeks had started to shrink away, the boy’s waist slimming while the muscles became more pronounced. 

Second, he rarely ate. And when he did, it was usually something stupid like kale or salads. Yoongi specifically remembered seeing him drop pieces of his meal once into a napkin in his lap because he wasn’t eating. 

Third, he was always moody. The amount of fights Jimin got in with the others during just a few months was probably more than he’d gotten into the rest of the time they’d been together. It hadn’t all been the boy’s fault. It really just seemed like the things that not-moody Jimin would let go, moody Jimin couldn’t. 

Fourth, Yoongi had felt constantly like he was in pain because of it. He’d tried to talk to Jimin, hell, all of them had tried to talk to him at some point, but it had never worked and had usually just left Yoongi feeling like he was a failure for not being able to help. 

In the end, it had been partially the blackout (there had been a couple of other ones before), and partially Seokjin that pulled Jimin out of it. 

But the blackout had happened following a dance practice when Jimin had spent half the day being cranky and the other half in a zoned out silence that was infinitely worse. He had hardly faltered throughout their practice, had hardly missed a step until the last five minutes when he’d missed so many it had all of them concerned over his well being.

He’d asked to stay after, work out the pieces he’d messed up. 

Every one else had gone home.

Yoongi had noticed first, but it still took him significantly longer than he wished it had to realize that it had been four hours and Jimin still wasn’t back. Yoongi had also only noticed it because he happened to be the only one still awake at that time, working on some lyrics in the dim lighting of the lamp by their old, tiny couch.

So Yoongi had stuffed his feet into Namjoon’s shoes on accident, tugged on a coat and walked out in the cold night to make sure the younger was okay. 

He’d found him on the ground on the studio. And it had taken too long for Yoongi to piece together that he wasn’t just taking a nap. And that was mostly due to the blood.

Yoongi had felt his insides shrivel up, twist, and maybe disintegrate as he’d crossed the small distance and fell on his knees by the boy, trembling grip pulling out his phone and typing in his passcode. He was careful with the boy’s head, scared to move it as he jostled his shoulder, calling his name.

Jimin had eventually blinked back into consciousness, groaning as he moved on the floor, curling up against Yoongi’s knees and Yoongi had chanced his hand to the younger’s head. 

He’d passed out.

It became apparent as he stumbled over his words after calling their manager, apparent as his own mind put the pieces into place. And hit his head. That was the big one. And then had been left there for hours.

The company hid the incident, Jimin recovered fine, and the members started cracking down on helping Jimin get through it. Mostly it had been Seokjin who broke through to him.

Mostly it had left Yoongi with a sick feeling that hadn’t gone away for a week and a concern that would likely never fail.

So maybe Yoongi wouldn’t be so concerned right then if not for the similarities between that night and this one. The not eating, the obnoxiously late night without coming back, the fact that Jimin had been… weird lately. Yoongi didn’t want to jump to conclusions, didn’t want to assume that maybe the boy was relapsing, but he really couldn’t help the concern.

So once more, Yoongi found himself slipping on a random pair of shoes and a coat he was mostly sure was his and walked out of the apartment.

Different apartment, similar situation.

Yoongi hoped the similarities ended there.

The music was still strumming when Yoongi walked into the studio, growing louder as he got closer. He looked for movement through the door, in the mirror, but saw nothing. He pushed his way in, already feeling his stomach in his throat. 

The door to the side that led to a single stall bathroom was open. The rest of the room was empty. 

Yoongi opened his mouth to call Jimin’s name, only to hear a sound that sounded suspiciously like someone throwing up.

Yoongi crossed the room to the stereo, grabbing Jimin’s phone from where it was pugged in and paused the music. 

Yep. Yoongi flinched. That was definitely the sound of someone throwing up.

He took a deep breath, feeling the concern and fear twist in his own gut as he started across the studio. He snatched Jimin’s water bottle from where it rested and moved towards the bathroom door, knocking softly before entering.


The sight of the young boy sitting with his back against the wall by the toilet was enough to make Yoongi slouch.

“Jimin-ah,” he repeated with a level of concern that may have held into a how could you do this to yourself again?

“I didn’t ––,” Jimin croaked out, eyes teary as he wiped at his mouth. “It wasn’t on purpose. I just ––.”

“Okay,” Yoongi nodded, stepping forward, water bottle in hand. “Just drink.”

Jimin nodded, taking it with a trembling hand.

Yoongi slid to sit against the opposite wall. “What are you doing, Jimin?” Concern was bleeding into agitation and Yoongi closed his eyes against the bite in his own voice. When he blinked them open, Jimin was staring at him and Yoongi had to look away because there were still tears clinging in the corners of his rounded eyes and his face was pale –– he looked weak and sad.

“Don’t you ever think about what you’re doing?” Yoongi went on, rubbing his thumb to his lips and avoiding looking at the younger. 

“Hyung,” Jimin tried weakly.

“Do you ever think before you do these things? Can’t you ––,” he looked at the younger again, finding a scowl reaching him then, It gave Yoongi the courage to finish. “It’s not that hard to take care of yourself, Jimin.”

“You don’t know ––.”

“I don’t pretend to know,” Yoongi interrupted. “I never have. I get it, okay. I get there’s things that you have to deal with that I can’t understand, but, Jimin, god, you’re going to kill yourself if you keep this up.”

The boy’s eyebrows raised. “You think I did this on purpose?” He snapped, going to push himself up, but giving up just a moment later.

“When was the last time you ate?” Yoongi asked, his expression like stone, his voice colder than maybe he even met it.

“Earlier today,” Jimin bit out in turn.

“Why didn’t you eat dinner?” Yoongi challenged.

Jimin huffed, “So what? You’re keeping tabs on me now?”

“Answer the question.”

“I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t feel like it,” he snapped Yoongi with his signature glare and Yoongi always thought Jimin or Hoseok was the scariest when angry, but that wasn’t stopping Yoongi, even when he knew he was pissing the younger off. “Why does it matter?” Jimin threw out his hands as he demanded.

“Why are you throwing up?” Yoongi asked next, tone still stiff.

“I just had to throw up,” Jimin said simply.

“Why?” Yoongi pressed.

Jimin looked away, huffing. 

“You overworked yourself again,” Yoongi wasn’t asking, he was just saying. “After barely eating all day. So now you’re throwing up.”

Jimin glared at him.

“When are you going to learn to take care of yourself?” Yoongi lectured.

“Why are you even here?” Jimin demanded, pushing himself to stand. Yoongi moved forward at how the younger’s legs trembled to hold him up. “Did you really just come here to yell at me?”

“I’m not yelling,” Yoongi said, standing in turn, realizing it was kind of ridiculous that they were still having this conversation in a bathroom still.

“Why are you here?” Jimin demanded again, pushing his way past Yoongi and back out into the studio..

“I’m worried about you,” Yoongi moved to follow.

“Why?” Jimin snapped, turning around.

“Why do you think?” Yoongi tossed out his hand. “Or have you already forgotten that I was the one who found you? Do you have any idea what that was like?”

“Do I have any idea ––?” Jimin stomped his foot, face turning red as he grabbed at his hair. “I was the one who passed out! Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

Jimin was shaking, and even if it was partially from the anger, it wasn’t entirely. He’d just thrown up, of course he was shaking.

Yoongi reached out to steady him, maybe to ask him to sit.

Jimin jeered away from him. “Don’t touch me!” He shouted.

Yoongi halted, drawing his arm back.

The younger’s lip quivered.

“You’re shaking,” Yoongi tried, pretending like it didn’t hurt what had just happened, like this whole situation wasn’t hurting. “You should sit down?”

“Why do you care?” Jimin snapped, tears shouting in his eyes again, hands clasping together.

“Because I care about you,” Yoongi threw out his hand, like it was obvious.

“Well, stop,” Jimin said and his voice cracked and he chocked on a sob.

And Yoongi was reeling because that was not what he expected.

Jimin moved to step away, maybe to flee, but he was still shaking so bad, was still so pale and Yoongi saw his steps falter.

Yoongi reached out, catching Jimin even as he sunk to the ground.

“Yah,” Yoongi lowered Jimin to the ground, arm still protectively around him.

“Get off,” Jimin said, and he was crying.

Yoongi shook his head at the younger boy. “You piss me off so much sometimes, you know that,” Yoongi wrapped his arms tighter.

“I don’t care,” Jimin said, “Let me go.”

“I’ll let you go after we get you something to eat,” Yoongi sighed out. “Do you think you can stand?”

Jimin turned away, but soon gave a small nod.

“I’m fine,” Jimin assured even As Yoongi helped support his weight in pulling him up.

“You’ve barely eaten and you’ve been dancing for hours now without stopping. Your blood sugar is probably at shit levels, not to mention the shaking, vomiting, and the almost passing out again.”

“I didn’t almost pass out,” Jimin closed his eyes, tears streaming down. “I just f-fell.”

“Sure you did,” Yoongi bent over to snag Jimin’s jacket from the floor, holding it out to him until he took it and put it on. “Do you have anything to cover your face?”

Jimin tugged the face mask from his pocket, putting it over his face with trembling fingers. Yoongi tugged the younger’s hood over his head. “Let’s go.”


The beeping of the convenience store microwave sounded out in the late hour of night. Jimin stared out the window from his bar stool seat set in front of the counter resting against the window. Yoongi was sliding into the one next to him, pushing the instant noodles towards Jimin.

“Eat,” he commanded.

Jimin picked up his chopsticks and brought the noodles closer. “Thank you, Hyung.”

“Just eat,” Yoongi leaned forward, tracing patterns over the surface.

Jimin managed to choke down half. But even half felt too much. Jimin felt sick to his stomach from everything. He didn’t want to eat. He wanted to cry and go to bed and think about all of this never.

But, of course, Yoongi had showed up.

Of all of the people, of all of the members –– it had been Yoongi.

Always Yoongi.

Because Yoongi cared and Yoongi noticed, and he was always the one who was there.

Jimin really needed it to not be Yoongi.

Not tonight.

Not now.

Not when Jimin wanted to punch himself in the face for every fleeting thought and awareness that revolved around the male.

But even then. The older had walked in, had said his name as sweet and softly as he did and Jimin had gotten his hopes up. He’d hated himself for it, but it had happened anyways. And he’d let his mind race ahead of the situation, wanting Yoongi to hug him and tell him it was going to be okay. But all he’d gotten was yelled at.

And Jimin knew it came from a place of care. Of course it did. It was Yoongi. And he always cared.

But it was the opposite of what Jimin wanted. And it was completely uncalled for.

Especially when the reason Jimin couldn’t eat was because he was so fucking scared of his feelings for the older, when the reasons he had decided to try and dance until he forgot was the pale, short asshole to his left –– and the reason he didn’t stop dancing was simply because he could not get himself to forget about how Yoongi had decided to call him beautiful earlier that same day.

It was Yoongi’s fault.

And Jimin hadn’t wanted the lecture.

“Why aren’t you finishing it?” Yoongi asked after a prolonged period of Jimin swirling his chopsticks through the noodles.

“I’m full,” Jimin muttered.

“Jimin,” he sighed.

“You don’t get it, Yoongi,” Jimin snapped, turning to him.

Yoongi straightened at being yelled at.

“Butt out,” Jimin seethed, those tears still easy coming in his eyes. 

“I just trying —.”

“Stop trying.”

Jimin pushed back from the counter, sliding off the stool, half full cup of noodles in his hands. He dropped it in the trash, “Thanks for the noodles, Hyung. Can we go home now?”


Jimin was very aware that this was not a good way to cope or handle one’s problems. So aware in fact that he’d told himself that it was a bad idea about one hundred times. Didn’t stop him from texting, certainly didn’t stop him from showing up, or renting a room, or waiting.

He’d texted the Yoongi look-a-like the number of the room, and now he was just waiting, lying on the bed, arms crossed, feeling his pent up emotions boiling over.

There was a small knock and the door clicked open and Jimin sat up.

“Finally,” Jimin smiled.

“It’s hard to read tone over text, but you seem anxious,” the boy said, a sly smile taking over his lips.

Jimin pushed the door closed and grabbed the guy’s arm, yanking him to the bed before giving him a solid push onto the bed. The guy bounced twice, sitting up with mild shock and curiosity playing over his face.

“I’m really pissed at someone and I want to take it out on you. Is that okay?” Jimin made sure to say, but he couldn’t keep the rush of his words from his lips.

“Um…” the guy blinked at him. “Yeah, sure thing.”

Jimin nodded, immediately climbing into the older’s lap.

“Real quick,” the guy leaned back. “What exactly does taking it out on me entail? Just want to make sure I didn’t consent into any weird kinks or bondage or shit.”

Jimin chuckled out a laugh. “I was just thinking like aggressive sex?”

“I’m down with aggressive sex,” the boy nodded.

Jimin connected their lips, almost forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be angry when the boy chuckled softly at him. It was kind of endearing. But, right. Jimin was pretending this was Yoongi so he could get these feelings out without accidentally shouting at his bandmate that he was falling in love with him or some life ruining shit like that.

The boy’s back hit the mattress, his hands falling to Jimin’s hips, thumbs pushing up under the boys shirt and sinking into skin.

“Can I take some stuff out on you too? I’m also pissed at someone.” The boy asked as Jimin latched onto his jaw. 

Jimin leaned back. “Just to clarify, no pain right?”

“Shit no,” the boy said, leaning back in turn. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Than we’re in agreement.”

“Perfect. Take your pants off.”


Jimin had hardly spoken to Yoongi since the previous night. But for the first time since then, Yoongi wasn’t thinking about it. Because, well…

Yoongi was hot. He could feel it layered onto his skin. Every place the boy touched him seemed to be lit under a close flame, one that was threatening to tear him undone. He’d be tempted to ask for a break, except he desperately did not want to stop.

The boy that looked way too much like Jimin and he had completely lost track of which direction was the head of the bed as Yoongi rested in between the younger’s thighs, the boy’s head tilting off the edge, one leg tensed to a bend, heel pressed to Yoongi’s back, edging him in with each solid thrust. The boy’s other leg was up, heel resting on Yoongi’s shoulder.

Shadows played over the boy’s skin, illuminating the different patterns of dust over his arms and neck. Yoongi leaned forward as he gyrated deep into the boy, getting a breathless cry, reached out and pressed his grip firmly to the boy’s throat. 

“Is this okay?” Yoongi tried, but his voice was already hoarse, the words breathless.

The boy bobbed his head, reaching to place his hand over Yoongi’s, pressing to tighten the Yoongi’s grip. 

Yoongi trailed his thumb down his throat. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

He locked his other arm under the boys knee, gasping as he thrusted deep. The boy let out a breathless moan under him, throat arching into Yoongi’s grip. It was really the final straw as Yoongi increased his pace, feeling the heat setting up under his skin become fully engulfing. 

Yoongi’s thrusts seemed to threaten to push both of them completely off the bed. Yoongi was getting ready to pull back, reposition.

The boy’s arm wrapped around Yoongi’s neck and he pulled himself up, leg falling off his shoulder as they tumbled back and Yoongi’s spine hit the mattress.

“That was hot,” the boy whispered into his ear as he licked a striped over it.

“You’re hot,” Yoongi casually threw in there.

The boy laughed, legs pressed on either side of Yoongi as he bounced his weight down, lips locking to Yoongi’s jaw, teeth barely nibbling as he asked, “I want you to leave a mark.” The sentence was segmented by each of the boy’s own bounces. 

Yoongi gripped the boy’s hips. “Are you sure?”

“We’re having angry sex,” the boy insisted. “Bite me.”

“But no marks,” Yoongi pointed out.

“I don’t fucking care.”

Yoongi blinked at the curse, sitting up, almost offsetting the boy again.

“Just,” the boy breathed heavily. “Somewhere I can cover.”

“Where, baby?” Yoongi kissed down his throat, laying him down, the boys head hitting a pillow and they must’ve managed to rotate a full 360 degrees throughout this endeavor.

The boy took Yoongi’s head between his hands, guiding him to the soft skin of the boy’s tummy. Yoongi considered that it was a lot like Jimin’s, probably way too easy to imagine even as he kissed the skin surrounding the area before he licked over it and bit down.

The boy arched up into his arms and Yoongi smiled as his licked over the spot that would certainly bruise. “Discovering new kinks today, aren’t we?”

The boy managed a laugh, only to cut it off himself with a pout. “Don’t make me laugh, we’re having angry sex.”

“Yeah, okay,” Yoongi said, thumb rubbing over the spot as he kissed the boys lips before sliding back in, the younger arching under him.

“Fuck me like you mean it, Hyung,” the boy smirked.

And Yoongi was nothing if not obedient.

“Fuck,” the boy gasped, grip tightening on Yoongi’s shoulders as he fucked himself down to match each of Yoongi’s thrusts. Fingers bit skin and nails threatened the break the surface, but Yoongi didn’t care. He’d find an excuse.

He couldn’t really find it in him to care about anything when he was teetering on the edge, the wet slide of their connection hot and like a grip around him as he increased the pace, the boy under him keening and calling out and making those pitched gasps that Yoongi adored. 

“Close, Hyung. I’m ––,” he cried out, as Yoongi pistoned straight against his prostrate, back arching, fingers tugging at Yoongi’s hair, “–– close.”

The boy’s tugging on Yoongi’s hair only increased until Yoongi was hissing at the feeling, but he was surprised he didn’t mind, not when: “I’m close too.”

The boy made a sound like a squeaked groan, toes curling and legs tensing, thighs clamping against Yoongi’s sides. 

The boy basically screamed, but it came out more like a growl as his arms wrapped around Yoongi’s neck and he pressed them flat together. “Keep going,” he mulled out, desperately. “Please,” he whispered the last word.

Yoongi wrapped his arms around the boy, holding the pace as the boy writhed under him, keening with each movement, his orgasm leaving him sensitive as shit, and somehow just the thought of that (and maybe the sounds the boy was making) was Yoongi’s final straw as he broke over the edge and slammed forward to ride out his own orgasm.

He didn’t realize he was even speaking until the boy was laughing under him, their sweat making their skin stick together.

“That was a series of curse words I’ve never heard together.” The boy laughed.

Yoongi grunted his affirmative and rolled off the boy. “You should get pissed more often,” Yoongi supplied, sinking into the sheets, the air feeling cool and nice against his overheated flesh. “What the hell is your stamina?”

The boy chuckled softly, but it sounded half hearted.

Yoongi turned on his side, reaching over to nudge the boy. “Hey.”

The boy turned to him.

“What happened?”

The boy tossed his hand up, waving it through the air to drop it back down against his still heaving chest. “I got in a fight with someone.”

“Mm,” Yoongi nodded in understanding. Maybe a little too effortless understanding considering. “What about?”

“I don’t think it matters,” the boy shrugged. “It was kind of a stupid fight. I was angry at other things and just deflecting I think. He was kind of being an ass though.”

Yoongi nodded along. 

“What about you? Who did you get in a fight with?”

“The boy you remind me of,” Yoongi admitted.

The boy flopped on his side. “That must’ve been very therapeutic for you,” he teased.

“Shut up,” Yoongi gave a halfhearted shove.

“Lovers quarrel?” The boy wiggled his eyebrows, giggling adorably.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “No. I shouldn’t have yelled at him. But he’s,” Yoongi sighed, “so frustrating sometimes.”

“I get that,” the boy rubbed at Yoongi’s arm softly a couple times in a way that Yoongi really liked, but was not going to admit. Then he tapped it. “I gotta get going.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded. “See ya, kid.”

Yoongi remained still as the boy shuffled around him, throwing on clothes and checking his wallets. The boy left Yoongi alone in the room and he rolled over onto his side, reaching carelessly for his clothes before giving up and flopping back down.

He really shouldn’t have yelled at Jimin.

He also really probably shouldn’t keep doing this.

God, Jimin would hate him if he ever found out about this, wouldn’t he? He’d never be able to look at Yoongi again. He’d never want to.

It was Yoongi’s dirty little secret, but maybe it was getting to be too much, crossing a line that definitely existed somewhere.

Yoongi pulled himself up and headed out.


Jimin walked tiredly down the hall, ready for their stupidly busy schedule that definitely meant he shouldn’t have spent most of the night in the arms of his Yoongi look-a-like, but it had been so worth it, even if Jimin was sore as shit, and so fucking tired he was already planning the next time he would be allowed to sleep and ––

“Jimin-ah,” a hand held Jimin’s wrist.

He turned to face Yoongi.

“Can we talk for a sec?” 

Jimin nodded, following as Yoongi tugged him lightly into his and Seokjin’s room, the older member already in the living area with the others.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin said the moment the door closed and he fell against it, back feeling stiff against the door. “Hyung, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking and I ––.”

“Jimin, shut up.”

Jimin started, looking up into the incredulous look on the older’s face. He frowned at the older.

“Why are you apologizing?”

Jimin swallowed. “Because I worried you and- and didn’t eat and ––.”

“And you’re sorry about that?” Yoongi crossed his arms, the disbelief evident in his tone as he tilted his head.

“Yeah,” Jimin said, but even he wasn’t convinced.

“You’re not sorry,” Yoongi dropped his arms. “So why are you apologizing?”

Jimin frowned, bottom lip sticking out as he crossed his arms. “Because I’m not angry anymore and I don’t like fighting.” He kicked his foot against the ground.

The corners of Yoongi’s lips pulled at his words.

“Besides,” Jimin shrugged. “I am sorry we fought.”

“I didn’t drag you in here so you’d apologize, Jimin,” Yoongi stepped closer, incline his head to peer at the younger. “I was actually going to do that.”

Jimin blinked at him. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Yoongi said. “Honest. You didn’t deserve that. And I’m sorry I wasn’t kinder,” he ruffled his own hair, cringing as he said it, “You deserved a better response. You know, more nurturing and stuff.”

Jimin felt warm and he wished he didn’t, but he also kind of liked it, and –– 

“I’m also sorry we fought,” Yoongi added. “That, too.”

Jimin laughed at that. “I’ll be more careful,” he said seriously then, still shuffling his foot to the ground. “Promise.”

“You know it’s just because I worry about you,” Yoongi said.

“I know,” Jimin nodded.

“I’ll try to be more understanding,” Yoongi said. “And less aggressive.”

Jimin nodded.

“Are we good?” Yoongi asked then, that tilt back to his head.

Jimin pushed from the door, wrapping his arms tight around Yoongi’s neck and feeling the older tense for a moment at the sudden contact before he was wrapping his arms back around Jimin, resting his chin on the younger’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Jimin pulled back then, trying not to think too hard about the look in Yoongi’s eyes as he regarded him. “We’re good.”

Chapter Text

This was hard.


Coming to terms with it.

Things were bad enough when Jimin realized he wasn’t straight, but this –– this was a whole other ball park of pain, suffering, and eventual heartbreak. 

Why did he have to like Yoongi?

Why not anyone else?

Even another idol would be different. At least that wouldn’t threaten the entire dynamic of their band, the relationships they had with each other, the way people saw them as a whole. It was change for Jimin if it ever came out, but maybe her could get away with it just destroying him. Not them.

Jimin was so scared of destroying them.

Sitting in the meeting room with the other members, all tired and groggy from it being too early in the morning for something like this, Jimin found he wasn’t actually listening to a single thing their manager was saying. Something about their upcoming Japan tour, which was in less than two weeks now, something else about an eventual Global Tour, something about taking care of their healths and an interview? Maybe? He’d have to ask Namjoon for a recap later.

Because all he could think about right now was Yoongi.

Said member sat at the opposite end of the table, arms crossed and mouth hanging open as he “listened.” The way he kept blinking, eyes falling closed for a bit too long before pulling open as he nodded made Jimin giggle behind his hand, biting at his lip as the older member continued to fall asleep in front of him.

Too early for this. Like Jimin said.

And Jimin was mitten for the way his head lolled forward before he jerked up, banging his knee on the table, drawing every eye to him as he tried to play it off, looking at them with an expression that simply said, what. Jimin laughed then.

Yoongi turned to him, his own embarrassed smile on his face as he ducked his head. He’d been caught and he knew it.

Jimin was kinda in love with that smile.

And the entire person behind it.

He sighed and forced his gaze to his hands.

In other words, Jimin was royally screwed.


“I don’t know what to do, Tae,” Jimin admitted as they changed into their outfits for their segment on Saturday Night Live to advertise their tour, new album, and the like. “It’s just getting harder and it won’t go away.”

“That’s what she said,” Tae said, voice muffled by sleeve hole he was trying to stick his head through.

Jimin sighed, tugging the shirt to help his friend find the right place for his head. “This is serious, Tae.”

“I know,” he sighed in turn, head pulling through the appropriate hole as he smoothed the shirt down. “I knew this was going to happen.”

“You did not,” Jimin scoffed.

“I did too. You’ve always had a weird soft spot for Yoongi,” he shrugged. “And he for you too, now that I think about it.” Taehyung tapped his chin. “Every one knows you’re his favorite.”

“He just says that,” Jimin waved Taehyung off, even as his face heated.

Taehyung shrugged again, confining his place as the most unhelpful person in this situation.

Jimin swatted him. “Tae,” he whined. “What do I do?”

“There’s not much you can do, Chim,” Taehyung said, sympathetic as he regarded his friend. “You could tell him? Maybe work through it ––.”

“No,” Jimin said way too fast, shaking his head. “I can’t,” he looked away. “He won’t –– he won’t treat me the same and what if- what if he’s angry about it, or grossed out that I would have a crush on him. I mean —.”

Taehyung frowned at him. “Yoongi wouldn’t be angry and he wouldn’t ––.”

“You don’t know that,” Jimin scuffed his feet to the floor.

Taehyung sighed. “Then maybe you should try, I don’t know,” he tossed up his hand, “maybe getting some space from him. So you can clear your head and stuff.”

Jimin scoffed. “Space when, Tae? We’re about to go on tour together. We live together. We’re always around each other.”

“Maybe just, less touching?” Taehyung suggested. “Keeping a distance. Don’t sit with him. Try not to room with him. That kind of stuff.”

Jimin crossed his arms. “He’ll get worried.” He sighed, “He’s usually worried about me. He’ll think something’s wrong. Like I’m not eating again or something.”

“Then just tell him you need some space,” Taehyung shrugged. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Chim.”

Jimin knew he was being difficult, really did. “I know. Thanks, Tae.”


Distance. Yes.

Distance should be fine. Jimin just wouldn’t get in the same car as Yoongi, wouldn’t stand next to him during practice, take his seat opposite him at the table. Distance was doable and fine and ––

Really fucking hard.

It had only been two days (which just made Jimin feel pathetic, because he had no idea how he was supposed to actually do this until he could stop crushing on his bandmate) and Jimin just felt sad. He didn’t know how to actually keep his distance from Yoongi without actually keeping a distance from the others and keeping quiet during meals and sticking to himself while they did dance practice while the others messed around, it just felt lonely.

And maybe Jimin was letting his self-pity get the best of him.

Realistically, he knew he didn’t have to keep such a distance, knew there were better ways to go about this. But Jimin kinda felt like he deserved it with the secret he was holding and the hurt he could so easily accidentally dish out at his closest friends.

And maybe there was a dim part of him that was hoping someone would notice, put together the whole thing, and confront Jimin about it.

And maybe he was hoping that person would be Yoongi.

Childish. He was aware.

That didn’t make it easier.


“Jimin’s being weird,” Yoongi said offhandedly to Seokjin as they drove to get their check-ups done before their tour.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Jin sighed. “Tried to talk to him about it, but he’s being quiet. Doesn’t want to talk.”

“He’s been weird for awhile,” Yoongi said, worrying his lip. He sat back. “Something’s going on.”

“Yeah,” Jin agreed. “But he doesn’t want to talk to us about it. Every time we try to get him to, he shuts down even more.”

“You don’t think it’s the self-image thing again, do you?” Yoongi looked over, trying to keep the worry from his voice, but failing miserably.

“I think it might be,” Jin nodded, lips pursed. “But I don’t know. He’s being weird, but not that weird. Plus, I’ve been looking and he’s not losing any drastic weight and I don’t think he’s been practicing any more that Hoseok lately.”

Yoongi nodded, chewing at his lip.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Yoongi,” Jin assured. “And he’ll come to us when he’s ready.”

“Yeah, okay,” Yoongi said, unconvinced.

“You worry too much,” Jin sighed. “Especially about him.”

Yoongi grunted in response, not wanting to go back into this conversation, but already feeling the lecture coming on.

Jin drummed his fingers against the door’s edge. “How’s the whole getting over him thing going?” He asked, offering a comforting smile.

“It’s not,” Yoongi answered shortly.

“Yeah. I thought so.”

Yoongi chanced his glance to the others. Jungkook sat beside them, but he had his headphones in and Namjoon was out cold in the back.

“I still feel that you should confess,” Jin said.

Yoongi flinched at his words.

“I know you’re not keen on the idea. But if it’s the only way to get over your crush ––.”

“It’s not a crush,” Yoongi interrupted, hands clenching at his sides while he waited for Jin to call him out for interrupting.

But he didn’t. “What do you mean?” He pressed.

“It’s not a crush,” Yoongi said with a shrug, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal when it was and it was destroying him in ways he never knew he could be hurt. “I’m in love with him,” he admitted. The panic of it swelled hard and fast in his gut, dissipating as the relief of getting the words out settled over him. A faint buzz was left in the wake of it all, expectancy as he looked to Jin.

Jin blinked at him. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi agreed. “Oh.”

“When did you… realize?” Jin scratched at his head, the flinch there even if he tried to hide it.

Yoongi sighed, slouching forward. “There wasn’t like a single moment, I guess. It just kinda crept up on me until I was like ‘oh.’”

“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” Jin patted him on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said. “I know this is… not good,” he decided on saying. “I just… don’t know what to do anymore.” He leaned back again. “And now he’s getting all weird and it makes me wonder if I did something.”

“I don’t think so,” Jin tried to assure.

Yoongi shrugged. 

“He just needs our support right now,” Jin nodded firmly, “whatever it is. Just show him you care,” Jin jostled Yoongi’s arm. “And maybe consider telling him.”

“Yeah, okay,” Yoongi said.

But he couldn’t get himself to actually think about confessing to the boy.


Jimin had hardly smiled all day and Yoongi was getting sick of it. He moved around the others looking like a lost child or a kicked puppy and only Hoseok, Jin, or Taehyung seemed to be able to snap him out of it for whatever period of time. But then they’d get distracted or would leave and then Sad Jimin would be back and Yoongi was getting ready to throw his own kind of fit.

There were times when Jimin was the epitome of mature and collected, but that came with the other side of Jimin that Yoongi could only define as immature sometimes. It wasn’t shocking that this was how he was coping with whatever was running through his head, just… disheartening.

So, that night, as they all started to settle down, Yoongi walked to the younger’s room, knocking before receiving a grant to access from Hoseok’s chirped voice.

Jimin was sitting on his bed criss-cross, reading a book. When Yoongi stepped in, Jimin jolted, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Jimin-ah,” he said firmly, using his hyung voice. “Finish up that page or chapter or whatever and then meet me in my room, yeah?”

Before the younger could even respond, Yoongi stepped back out and closed the door.

He didn’t have to wait long before a timid knock sounded at his door. Yoongi pushed his laptop off his lap and stood up to answer the door.

A very timid Jimin stood in the hallway outside his room, shuffling his feet and fiddling with his fingers. 

Yoongi laughed softly at the sight as he tugged the younger into his room, closing the door. He crossed back over, sitting on his bed as he clicked they internet icon on his computer. 

“Hyung?” Jimin tried.

“We’re watching a movie,” Yoongi said, leaving little room for argument in his tone. “What do you want to watch?”

The boy’s eyes rounded in surprise. “I, um, I’m okay, Hyung. I ––.”

“We’re watching a movie,” Yoongi said, assertive and demanding. “You’re not getting over it, so you might as well just get over here and tell me what you want to watch.”

Jimin carefully stepped closer to the bed until Yoongi tugged his arm, making him fall against the bed by Yoongi.

Jimin huffed at Yoongi and Yoongi smiled in turn. 

“Something American? Something Korean? Drama? Romance? Action? Horror?”

“Not horror,” Jimin quickly interjected.

Yoongi smiled. “If you insist.”

“And not action,” Jimin wrinkled his nose.

“How about a Ghibli movie,” Yoongi clicked into the sub-genre on the sight. 

“I haven’t seen Howl’s Moving Castle in awhile,” Jimin said, peering at the movie list.

“Okay?” Yoongi said, looking to the younger.

Jimin looked to him in turn. “Okay.”


They started off propped up against the pillows of Yoongi bed, against the headboard, the laptop set up between them in the sheets. But Yoongi kept wiggling down until he had to tilt the screen to see and the Jimin complained about not being able to see it right and so Yoongi just tugged him down so they were both lying down.

“My neck hurts like this,” Jimin complained.

“Aish, what a baby,” Yoongi teased, sitting up and tugging the computer from where it rested. Between them, scooting back until his butt hit Jimin’s thighs.

“Hyung!” The younger jolted.

“Calm yourself,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, placing the computer back down on the bed, facing where they laid.

Yoongi sat up to grab a blanket from the end of his bed, bundling it up and stuffing it under Jimin’s pillow to elevate the younger’s head so he could see over where Yoongi’s head rested on his own pillow. Yoongi’s back rested against Jimin’s chest, their legs trying to retain a distance as Yoongi curled his up in front of him, tugging the covers over both of them.

“There,” he said, looking back at Jimin. “Comfortable now?”

Jimin nodded, resting back behind Yoongi.

And, yeah. This wasn’t helping. Yoongi could feel the younger’s warmth pressed up against him and it was intoxicating as Yoongi lost focus on the movie, instead focusing on where he could feel Jimin’s hand jostling between their bodies.

And that was distracting enough, completely wiggling its way into Yoongi’s every thought before the hand brushed over Yoongi’s side, falling to rest over his waist and Yoongi forgot how to breathe.

“It was falling asleep,” Jimin excused.

Yoongi nodded, clearing his throat. “That’s fine.”

Jimin’s arm tightened, bringing the minimal space between them to a nonexistent state and Yoongi’s heart fluttered in his chest as he felt the younger’s breathing against his neck.

Jimin was just a cuddly person. If it were anyone else from the band in front of him, he’d probably be doing the same thing. But Yoongi felt on fire with how almost it felt once more. Like in another life they could be exactly like this only with Jimin returning the feelings Yoongi was harboring without any need for fear. 

It was just Jimin being Jimin and Yoongi was aware of that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want there to be more.

And maybe he could get away with it too.

Taking a deep breath, Yoongi moved his hand over the one resting over his stomach, intertwining their fingers and clapping his palm to the back of the younger’s hand. Jimin’s hand was soft and warm and so stupidly small and Yoongi loved it, but couldn’t say that as he waited for some kind of negative reaction, waited for the younger to pull away or tease him for always wanting to hold his hand.

But it never came.

Part of Yoongi that had expected the teasing almost wished it would come to cut through the air and normalize the situation. Because, without it, all that was left was the thick weight of Yoongi’s actions and all they could mean lingering in the room.

Yoongi didn’t even have an excuse, so he didn’t try to excuse it.

Jimin’s hand pulled from Yoongi’s grip and in that brief moment, Yoongi considered throwing himself out the bedroom window or just crying for a small eternity, but the heat of Jimin’s palm was back in an instant, moving under Yoongi’s hand, palms together as he clasped their hands together properly, the younger thumb tracing patterns over the juncture of where Yoongi’s thumb connected to the rest of his hand.

Yoongi completely forgot about the movie, completely forgot about everything, because all that mattered in the whole world was Jimin’s hand holding his. 

Jimin was awake and holding his hand.

Yoongi very rarely let himself consider the possibility of a ‘maybe,’ but it was rushing through his head a hundred thousand miles a minute, stealing all of the air from his lungs until he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

The ministrations on his hand stilled, the younger’s grip tightening to an unrelenting grip.

Yoongi almost moved to turn around, to look at the younger and ask if he was okay.

But his question was answered before he could even form it.

Behind him, Jimin’s body trembled, his legs coming up and there was a sharp gasp and a sob and –– oh –– oh no. Jimin was crying.

Yoongi shuffled, turning on his back as he looked at the younger.

Jimin had pressed his face into the pillow, wet spots already forming form his eyes, His body shaking as he brought his free hand from under him to try and hide his face.

Yoongi pulled his hand to reach out for the younger, to comfort him, but Jimin’s grip was still tight, shaking and refusing to let go.

“Jimin?” Yoongi rubbed his thumb over Jimin’s finger, reaching out with his free hand to push the boys hair back, turning his back to the movie. “Hey, Jimin,” he whispered soothingly. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

The boy shook his head against the pillow.

“Come on,” Yoongi brushed his thumb over the boy’s cheek. “Look at me, Jimin.”

Reluctantly, the younger rolled back until his face could be seen, peaking from the pillow at Yoongi, eyes sad and lip wobbling.

Yoongi brushed at the younger’s tears, Jimin closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath as he did, more tears falling free. 

“You said I didn’t have to say,” Jimin mumbled, words wet from his own crying.

“Is that still bothering you? The same thing?”

Jimin nodded.

“Then tell me what to do?” Yoongi heard the break in his own voice. “What can I do to make this easier on you?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin shrugged sadly. 

“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” Yoongi muttered softly.

“Can we pretend I’m not crying?” Jimin sniffled then, giving a small, teary laugh.

“Of course, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi said.

He stretched up, pressing a soft kiss to the younger’s temple, rubbing over the spot with his thumb before turning back around. He pulled the younger’s arm back around his waist, holding the younger’s hand in both of his own to play soothingly with his fingers and try to calm the shaking he could still feel behind him, the tears wetting the pillow behind him, the sobs Yoongi could still hear stifled amongst sniffling and shaking breaths.

Yoongi pushed his fingertips over the younger’s arm, brushing skin and pressing touches. Yoongi turned on his back, head still facing the computer so he could reach more of Jimin, fingers dancing over skin, tracing patterns and words and anything, anything to keep his fingers moving.

The crying stopped along the way, somewhere when the main character in the movie discovered Howl’s past. Yoongi brushed his fingers over skin still, focusing on Jimin’s breathing, on how it evened out, felt normal. 

The movie played on. Yoongi felt for too warm with Jimin’s arm wrapped around him, far too in place with the younger just beside him, holding him close. The credits started to roll.

Yoongi reached over, closing the laptop and lowering it down to the ground below.

Still holding the younger’s hand, Yoongi turned to face him one more.

Jimin blinked up at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like an offering. “Thank’s, hyung. For the movie. It was nice.”

So they were still pretending he hadn’t spent most of it sobbing his eyes out.

“Do you want to talk now?” Yoongi said.

Jimin’s smile fell away. He shook his head.

“We don’t have to talk about what’s bothering you. We can talk about anything,” Yoongi suggested.

“Like what?” Jimin shifted, playing along.

“How are you today?” Yoongi said. “Weather’s nice.”

Jimin scoffed a laugh, turning his head into the pillow.

“Cute,” Yoongi poked his cheek.

He knew the younger loved compliments. He expected it to be comforting, helpful.

Jimin turned further into the pillow, a small but weak smile on his lips.

“You believe me right,” Yoongi titled his head. “That you’re cute.”

“That’s not it, Yoongi,” Jimin said.

“Okay,” Yoongi nodded, trying to understand, really trying.

“It’s hard,” Jimin said.


He nodded.

“It’s just hard.”

“What is?”

“Everything right now.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi brushed some of Jimin’s bangs from his face. “What can I do?”

The younger made an amused sound, but didn’t elaborate on it. Instead, it fell away and a soft, “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course,” Yoongi said maybe too fast.

But Jimin still looked unsure.

“We haven’t slept in the same bed in awhile,” Yoongi offered a small smile.

“Yeah,” Jimin said. “It was easier then.”

Yoongi furrowed his brow, unsure of what he meant.

He looked down at where Jimin was still holding his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin said then, voice quiet.

Yoongi met his gaze. “What for?”

“I’m selfish,” he gave a small smile.

“What do you mean?” Yoongi pressed.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter.”

“You’re not making a lot of sense, Jimin.”

“Why did you want to watch a movie with me?” He asked suddenly.

“Because,” Yoongi shrugged. “You’ve been distant lately. I don’t like it when you’re distant. Thought you could use a distraction.”

Jimin nodded.

They were so close. Why couldn’t they always be this close?

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

Yoongi turned to switch off the lamp, turning back to Jimin. He decided that if the younger pulled away, he would do the same, but if he was willing to leave it as it were, so would Yoongi. Jimin didn’t pull away, which kinda left Yoongi breathless. But what totally stole his breath away was when the younger pushed up closer, head resting underneath Yoongi’s chin as he wrapped his arm around the older’s waist.

Yoongi stiffened at the sudden movement, relaxing almost immediately as he put his arm around the boy in turn, fingers pushing up in his hair.

“Goodnight, Jimin,” he muttered into the darkness.


Jimin’s breathing pressed up against Yoongi’s felt perfect somehow. On each intake, Yoongi could catch the smell of Jimin’s hair. It took him a moment to place it, but he almost laughed when he realized it smelt like peaches. 

“Yoongi,” Jimin broke the silence.

Yoongi hummed in acknowledgment.

“I love you,” Jimin said softly, lips brushing over the expanse of skin on Yoongi’s collarbone.

Yoongi sunk his teeth into his lip, took a deep breath, and responded. “I know.” Because he knew Jimin loved him, just as Jimin loved all of them. Jimin loved him, but not how he loved Jimin. And even though that hurt, it was okay. It would have to be okay. “I love you too.”

When Yoongi felt tears press against his shirt, he didn’t say anything, just brushed his hand through the boy’s hair until he felt him calm in his arms, his own breathing signaling that he was asleep.

Yoongi didn’t know what was going on in the boy’s head. But maybe he needed them to remind him that they loved him. Maybe the self-doubt was winning again.

Yoongi took a deep breath and pulled back, feeling the cool night air wrap around his exposed skin.

He shifted, closing the space once more and closed his eyes against the top of the boy’s head.

Sleep came soon enough.


Jimin was going to end it soon. He promised himself he would. He’d end it with the masked stranger and then he’d figure it out with Yoongi and he’d kill his feelings and get his life back, and he’d stop making his bandmates so worried about I’m all the damned time. He would do all of this.

But first, he was going to enjoy this just a couple more times.


It was odd that that was somehow exactly what Jimin wanted, but the Masked Stranger was being gentle. A sudden switch from the aggression in their last meeting.

Jimin gasped up to the ceiling at the firm thrust pushed straight against his prostrate. Jimin pulled his lip between his teeth, letting it out slowly to hold the moan wracking his insides at bay. He felt like he was barely recovering from the last thrust when the next one hit in.

Jimin arched into it as the stranger’s mouth met his. The kiss was careful, soft and warm and everything Jimin wanted.

“How do you always know?” Jimin drawled as the boy kissed down his neck.

“Know what?” He smirked.

“How I want it,” Jimin’s sentence fell away to another moan and he pushed his fingers through the dusted locks of the older.

“Do I really?” The boy tilted his head, kissing back up his neck to his lips.

“You’re magical or some shit,” Jimin teased back before he lost his breath as the older started to increase his pace.

“Hyung?” Jimin asked.

“What is it, baby?” he drawled.

“I want you to leave another mark,” Jimin sighed out.

“Where do you want it? Same place?”

Jimin shook his head, swallowing thickly. “I want it somewhere people could see,” he bit his lip. “But somewhere I could hide it if I wanted to.”

“Why?” The boy asked.

“I like the thrill,” Jimin smiled down at him as he received a smile in response.

“Yeah, okay. How about on your neck? You could wear a scarf,” the boy pushed himself up, pushing his lips sweetly against the expanse. 

“Too noticeable.”

“Lower?” The boy supplied, nibbling Jimin’s collar.

Jimin bit his lip. “I don’t know.”

Lips met his again, hard and hungry. “Give me your hand.”

Jimin furrowed his brow, but did as instructed. The older took Jimin’s wrist carefully in hand, wrapping his other arm around the boys waist to turn them over, flipping Jimin on top. The movement sent the older even deeper into Jimin and he gasped from where he leaned over the older.

The boy took Jimin’s wrist and brought it to his lips, kissing carefully over the skin, sending goosebumps up Jimin’s arms. 

“How about here?” He asked. “You could wear a bracelet.”

Jimin was nodding before his brain was ready to agree.

“Keep moving for me, yeah?” The boy guided Jimin’s hips a few times until Jimin caught on and did it on his own. The movements made his breathing increase, sweet beading on his forehead as the older licked over the expanse on Jimin’s wrist below his thumb, teeth pinching onto skin a moment later.

Jimin gasped at the feeling, sliding down the older with a breathless hum. 

“Again?” The boy tilted his head.

Jimin nodded.

On the opposite side of the same wrist, the boy kissed the skin, gently pulling it between he teeth only to let go and lick carefully at the flesh. Teeth bit down and Jimin was groaning as he bucked down.

“Good?” The older clarified, thumb rubbing over the reddened spots of skin.

Jimin nodded, leaning forward until his forehead rested against the older.

“Can you cum like this?” The older whispered soothingly.

Jimin nodded, breathing in the same air as the older as an arm wrapped around his waist, the older sitting up as their movements synced and increased. Jimin’s breathless gasps filled the space between, building in between moans and pitched sounds until a final push sent his cry to shatter it all.

Jimin slumped against the pillow in the aftermath, feeling his pulse race as his breathing struggled to catch up and calm down. 

He tried to peer at his wrist in the faded light, still feeling the sting of the bites, but he couldn’t make out any discoloration if there was any.

The older fell on the bed beside him, jostling the mattress.

“I’m going to have to take a couple weeks off,” Jimin said, actually feeling a loss due to the tour. “But I’ll text you when I’m ready again, okay?”

The masked stranger nodded.

Jimin bit at his lip and narrowed his gaze at the older. “If you wanted to meet up once more before then, I have Thursday night off.”

“That’s in two days,” the boy observed.

“Yeah,” Jimin said.

“We’ve never met up so close in time,” the boy shrugged.

“It’ll be our last chance for awhile.”

“I can do Thursday,” he nodded. 

Jimin smiled.

“How’s your wrist?” He reached to take it carefully in hand, rubbing over the expanse he had bit at.

“It’s fine,” Jimin assured.

“Why do you like it?” He questioned, no judgement in his tone. “Is it a pain thing?”

“I like being able to see it later,” Jimin admitted, rubbing over the spot with his other hand. “And it does hurt, but it’s not like pain pain, you know? It’s just like a small sharp prick. I kinda like it.”

“Weird kink.”

“Hey,” Jimin swatted at him. “I could be into way weirder stuff.”

“You’re not wrong,” the older joked. “Glad I could assist you in your self discovery.”

Jimin managed a small chuckle, staring up at his wrist and thinking, you really have no idea.


The watch fit perfectly over the two bruises, hiding them from sight, but definitely not from mind as Jimin examined the accessory sitting on his bed in his room. He wasn’t used to wearing watches. The additional weight felt kind of odd.

“I’ve got it,” Tae fell on his stomach on Jimin’s bed. “This guy, the one you’ve been meeting.”

“Yeah?” Jimin prodded.

“Why not like him?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I mean, it brings to light a whole other set of problems, but you said he was attractive and like really nice,” he rolled over on his back, “and that he was really good in bed ––.”

Jimin hit him with a pillow. “I never said that.”

“You implied it,” Taehyung smirked, sitting up. “Why not try liking him?”

Jimin sighed, staring down at the pillow still in his grip. How did he explain that Jimin only found him attractive because he looked like Yoongi? Or that, trying to like the stranger likely wouldn’t help because Jimin had kinda sorta been pretending it was Yoongi since basically day one? “I don’t know anything about him,” he said instead. “He could be a serial killer for all I know.”

“If that were true, I’m sure you’d be dead,” Taehyung assured.

Jimin glared.

“Come on,” the boy flopped back down. “Ignoring Yoongi’s not working because you’re friends and he notices things and makes you watch Ghibli movies with him when he thinks you're sad and you apparently can’t control yourself around him because you held his hand and ––.”

Jimin thwacked Taehyung with the pillow again, scowling at the older. 

Taehyung just grinned wider, “And,” he went on like the blow hadn’t occurred. “You won’t try and talk it out.”

Another, lighter, blow hit Taehyung in the side.

“So,” he went on, “why not try liking someone else. Even if it’s just a weird rebound or doesn’t last, it could be enough to at least weaken Yoongi’s hold on you.”

Jimin set the pillow in his lap, brushing his hands over it. “I don’t think a stranger I met at a club is really the best person for that.”

“Then someone else,” Taehyung nodded.

“Who though?” Jimin tossed out a hand. “We’re idols, Tae. We’re constantly being watched. I can’t just casually date.”

“Well, none of us can,” Taehyung sighed.

“But it’s different if you guys get caught. It won’t ruin your whole lives.”

Taehyung pressed his lips together. “Yeah, okay,” he looked up at his friend. “You’re still being very difficult about this though,” he rolled off his bed, tugging Jimin’s hand to follow. “Come on, breakfast awaits.”

Being that it was only a few more days until they would be heading out to board an international flight, Jin had taken the opportunity of the somewhat late start to their morning to actually cook breakfast. The members slid into place one by one, as the older served out the meal, his dongsaes calling out their thanks in turn.

Jimin reached for his cup of orange juice when a hand caught around his own.

Jimin turned to Jungkook, scandalized at the sudden attack.

“Cool watch, Hyung,” the younger tugged at it.

“Um, thanks?” Jimin tilted his head.

“You don’t usually wear watches,” the younger gave a sly smile.

Jimin tried to tug his hand away, feeling a small rush of panic as he stuttered out, “I’m trying something new.”

Jungkook’s smile only grew. “Can I try it on.”

Jimin got his wrist away that time. “No, that’s okay.”

By now, the others were all distracted by their antics.

“Why not, Hyung?” Jungkook tilted his head, scooting closer. “Just for a moment.”

“Go get your own watch,” Jimin shoved him. 

“Are you hiding something, hyung?” Jungkook teased again.

The brat.

“No,” Jimin bit out, trying to press a drop it into his tone.

“It’s not even on the right wrist,” Namjoon pointed out, mouth full as he said it. “Won’t that get in the way?”

Yoongi snorted amusedly, bringing his coffee up to his lips. Traitor, Jimin thought. Letting them tease him like this with no defense.

“It’s fine,” Jimin said weakly.

“Why not just put it on your other wrist?” Jungkook was still smiling.

“Fine,” Jimin glared at the younger, carefully slipping it off his wrist as he kept it under the table and tossing it at the younger with his non-bruised hand. “Try it on. I don’t care.”

But Jungkook was in no way looking at the watch. “Are those bruises, hyung?” He suddenly sounded a lot more concerned than he had a moment ago.

“What?” Hoseok squeaked, grabbing Jimin’s wrist and holding it up. “What happened? Did you hurt yourself? Are you okay?–– oh,” Hoseok tilted his head at the darkened spots of skin, looking up at Jimin scandalized as he asked, “Are those bite marks?”

Sputtered coughing made Jimin jolt as he looked at Yoongi who was bent over, coffee mug hitting the table with a thunk as his coughing wracked his body, widened eyes jerking up to meet Jimin’s.

Jimin shied away immediately. He didn’t want Yoongi to know he liked being bit — he didn’t want any of them to know he liked being bit. But he really didn’t want Yoongi to know that he was sleeping around.

They wouldn’t be able to put together who with from some bruises, but they could put that much together from it, couldn’t they.

“I, uh-uh –– Taehyung bites in his sleep,” Jimin shot out his finger to point at his friend.

Said friend blinked in shock a couple times before nodding along. “Yeah, yeah. It was, uh, me.”


Jimin sighed.

“Holy shit,” Namjoon said. “Do you have a girlfriend, Jimin?”

“No,” Jimin waved his hands. “It’s nothing like that, honest.”

“You got laid though,” Jungkook snickered, ducking to avoid a smack that was supposed to hit him on the head.

Jimin finally twisted his wrist from Hoseok’s grip, the older looking scandalized as he said, “My innocent Chimchim.”

“Hyung,” Jimin whined, hitting his shoulder weakly.

“Kinky,” Jungkook jolted immediately after the word left his mouth to avoid any attempted attack. 

“It’s not like that,” Jimin’s face was flushing. 

He still couldn’t get himself to look at Yoongi.

What would he think? Was he upset at Jimin? Did he even care? Which was worse?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and ,grateful for the distraction, he tugged it from his pocket, to stare down at the simple message from the app that only held one contact. All it said was: Had a good time last night.

Jimin tilted his head. That was strange. They never texted after their endeavors unless it was to plan another hook-up.

“Is that the girl?” Namjoon smirked.

“No,” Jimin shoved his phone back in his pocket. “It’s really not like that. You’re misunderstanding.” He tried again.

“Maybe you could’ve gotten away with it,” Jin said. “But Taehyung bit you, that’s the best you could come up with?”

Jimin tried to come up with an excuse, but all words seemed to have left him. Defeated, he just shrugged, wallowing in his own embarrassment and ––

“Hey,” Jimin straightened, staring at the empty seat across from him, a meal half finished and coffee barely touched. “Where did Yoongi go?”

As if on cue, a door slammed in the hallway. The sound seemed to shake the walls and make the group start.

Jin was scrambling to his feet. “Uh, wait here, you guys,” he ordered, fast walking out of the kitchen and turning down the hall.

Jimin looked up, matching the confused and concerned expressions on the other’s faces. Despite Seokjin's words, Jimin was standing, walking towards Yoongi, concern and confusion twisting in his chest. 

Chapter Text

“Are those bite marks?”

Yoongi had stilled immediately, mid-swallow as he looked up and saw the two circled bruises on either side of the boys wrists and ––

Hot coffee rushed down his throat as he breathed, burning as it seemed to go down the wrong pipe. He sputtered, barely managing to not spit it out all over the table and his fellow members.

Namjoon’s heavy hand clapped twice on his back to try and calm the chocking. Tears welled in his eyes, but Yoongi blinked through them, swallowing over the burning sensation in his throat to look up and meet the gaze of Jimin. He looked concerned, maybe a little confused –– mostly embarrassed, flushed from his ears down his neck and ––



There was just no way.

It was a fucking coincidence or– or an accident.

“… Taehyung bites in his sleep,” the younger called out.

Yeah, or that. Why not that?

Yoongi looked to Taehyung, ready to believe, but the younger’s answer wasn’t even a little convincing and Yoongi kinda felt like he was still chocking over his coffee, maybe drowning in it at this point.

Yoongi wrenched his phone from his pocket, fingers trembling as he opened up the text app. It was nothing. It was fine. Right? Right?? Yoongi couldn’t hear the words being exchanged over the thrumming in his own ears.

What did he type? Because Yoongi was surely just overreacting to some weird ass coincidence, so what the hell did he say to not make this weird for the masked kid who was probably at work or some shit, completely unaware of Yoongi’s panicked turmoil.

Had a good time last night or some variation of that, Yoongi couldn’t be one hundred percent sure what he was typing in his panic, seemed good enough. He hit send.

And immediately heard a distant buzz that seemed to set his chest on fire.

Jimin pulled the phone out, brow furrowing at the text before Namjoon said something and he was shoving it back in, a loud pitched, “No!” Falling from the boys lips.

And Yoongi was drowning.

Like a house of cards that had been stacked up so carefully, incident after incident, sign after sign, and finally, the bottom one had been pulled free and it was all falling, collapsing around him and 



Fingers trembling, Yoongi stood from his seat, his movements barely noticed when everyone else was so invested in teasing Jimin for his night out — his night out, Yoongi realized, with him. Yoongi swallowed thickly, feeling like his brain had disconnected from his limbs as he walked away from the kitchen table, turning down the hall.

He found himself standing in Jimin’s doorway, a shaky breath leaving him as the tears started to well from a different kind of pain. He glanced behind him, hearing the talk of his friends carry through the hallway.

Yoongi stepped in, walking straight towards the younger’s closet. Invasion of privacy wasn’t even on his radar, because fuck fuck, no, this isn’t happening. He flipped through the younger’s clothes, kneeling down to tug at the dresser drawers, ignoring socks and sleep ware and finding his gaze drawn to the duffel bag lying on the floor.

For Christmas the year prior, Hoseok had gotten Jimin a new dance bag. The old one was there, lying on the ground, definitely full of something. And Yoongi had yet to see him use his old one since… except for that night then Yoongi had run into Jimin at the studio. Late at night. After Yoongi had met up with — fuck.

Yoongi tugged the zipper down, tugging out black pants and a white shirt, both covered in dust from an array of different colors. 

Yoongi was losing the ability to breathe. He held them tight in his fist, feeling the tears actually start to fall as he shoved them back into the bag, a small cloth falling to the ground.

Except, it wasn’t a cloth. Yoongi picked up the white bandana, rolled up to easily be tied around a wrist, stained with orange and pink and a twinge of purple and yeah –– Yoongi was dying.

Bandana clutched in his grip, Yoongi fled. 

He wanted to run from the building, run to the studio or maybe just never stop running, but he couldn’t walk past them. Couldn’t let the others see –– so he ran straight to his room, throwing the door closed with an effort and strength he had not intended in the slightest.

His rear hit the ground as his legs pushed his back to the wall. That stupid fucking bandana still tugged around his fingers from where he held it in a vise like grip.

He’d kissed Jimin.

He’d fucking slept with Jimin. 

In a dirty club with masks on and dust in his lungs and ––

Jimin was gay.

Yoongi grabbed his head, dimly aware of the pitched sounds his own gasps were echoing out into the room.

In all of his life, Yoongi could not recall a single moment he had ever fucked up this bad.

He had no idea what to do.

His own chest heaved with a struggle for air as the door to his room creaked open and a wide-eyed, very concerned Seokjin peered in. The concern only seemed to deepen as he saw Yoongi’s state, the younger desperately clamping his hand over his mouth the muffle the sounds from reaching out into the kitchen where his friends were.

Seokjin stepped into the room, closing the door carefully and held out his hands like approaching a nervous animal.

“Yoongi?” He pressed. “Yoongi, are you having a panic attack?”

Yoongi barely managed a nod as he gasped past his hand, tears wetting his face as he curled further into himself.

A knock sounded on the door. “Is everything okay?”


Of course it was Namjoon.


Yoongi lost his breath all over again at the small voice of Jimin himself.

“D-don’t let them in here,” Yoongi rasped out, words shaking as they fell out of him. “Don’t l-let them see m-me.”

“Okay, okay,” Jin waved his hands, stepping back to the door to open it, sticking his head out and keeping it closed against the space he filled to hide Yoongi. “Go away,” he said sternly to the younger members.

“Is he alright?” Namjoon’s concerned tone.

“He’s having a really bad cramp. He doesn’t want you to see him writhing on the floor in pain. Go away,” the older lied effortlessly for Yoongi’s sake.

“I can bring water,” Jimin’s voice offered. “Or pain killers.”

“Water,” Jin nodded.

The patter of footsteps sounded out as Jimin hurried away.

Yoongi thunked his head back against the wall, hand still clasped over his mouth, trying to hold the sounds at bay even though some still slipped through. 

“He doesn’t sound okay,” Namjoon said, concern evident.

“He’ll be fine,” Seokjin assured. 

“Here’s water,” Jimin’s voice returned.

“Thank you,” Jin took it. “Now,” he flapped his hand at them. “Go away.”

The door closed and Yoongi dropped his hand from his mouth, gasping for air before breaking down into a full blown sob. He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them there, trembling like a leaf on his bedroom floor.

A hand petted against his hair, another pushing a glass of water into his shaking grip. 

“Talk to me, Yoongi,” Jin said.

Yoongi just shook his head.

“I know,” the older took a deep breath. “I know you love him,” he said carefully. “And I know that seeing that must’ve been hard for you,” each word was slow in coming as if carefully selected. “But Yoongi, you can’t be upset with him for finding someone who’s not… you know, you.”

Yoongi bit out a laugh, but it was so cruel and twisted it ended up sounding like another sob.

Jin had no idea. Of course he didn’t. Who would put this together? Who would actually guess this ridiculous situation? 

It was so much worse than that.

Yoongi shook his head. “It-it’s not th-that,” he choked out. “Th-that’s s-stupid. I wouldn’t have a f-fucking panic attack over th-that.”

“Okay,” the older brushed his hands over Yoongi’s head, through his hair. “Than what is it?”

“I can’t t-tell you,” Yoongi realized the truth of the statement even as he said it.

He couldn’t.

Because it would ruin everything.

Because it would destroy his relationship with Jimin.

Because it would be outing Jimin.

It could change everything.

Jin’s brow furrowed at that statement.

“It’s so fucked up,” Yoongi pressed his teeth to his kneecap. “I messed up so bad, Hyung.”

Jin was looking at him carefully, so carefully, as if trying to read through the words and understand what the boy was saying.

“He’s going to h-hate me,” Yoongi cried out, knees coming tighter to his frame until he was sure he looked like nothing more than a ball on the ground.

“Who? Jimin?” Jin pushed.

Yoongi nodded.

“Did you do something to him?” Jin tilted his head. “You didn’t like, I don’t know,” he shrugged, “hook up with the girl Jimin is seeing, right?” Careful, calculated — so wrong it hurt.

“I’m g-gay,” Yoongi looked up at him.

“I don’t know,” Jin tossed out his hand, voice raising. “Maybe you were trying new things! I’m just trying to figure out what happened that made you so upset.”

Yoongi sniffled over another sob.

“What did you do to Jimin?” Jin pressed still, careful and gentle. 

Yoongi pulled his face from where it his behind his knees, the words I fucking slept with him, on his tongue even as he clenched his teeth to keep them inside. “He’s going to hate me,” he said again.

“Jimin could never hate you,” Jin rushed in to say.

Yoongi shook his head at the words.

“Okay,” Jin nodded. “New plan. You calm down, and then we’ll talk, yeah?” He pushed the glass of water closer to Yoongi’s chest. “Drink this. All of this and let’s focus on breathing okay?”

Yoongi nodded, trembling fingers sloshing the liquid onto his chest even as he brought it to his lips.

“Whatever it is,” Jin assured, “it’s Jimin, right? You know he loves you. There’s nothing you could’ve done that could change that, okay?”

Yoongi closed his eyes, large tears slipping free. 

It was Jimin, yes.

And that made it a hundred times worse. Because there was no getting over him — no getting over this.


Yoongi hiccuped over a ghost of his sobbing as Jin rubbed patterns onto his knee.

“What happened?” He asked again now that Yoongi was breathing and “calm.”

“I can’t tell you,” Yoongi said again, fiddling with the rim of the empty glass.

“Why not?” Jin said.

“Because it won’t just affect me if you know,” Yoongi offered, almost apologetically if he could actually muster another emotion that wasn’t soul crushing self despair and hatred.

“Okay,” Jin threw his hands up, letting them clap back down to his thighs. He took a short breath and turned to Yoongi. “Is it really that bad?” concern, maybe a little bit of fear laced its way in there.

Yoongi hesitated and then nodded.

“How bad?” The older pushed. “And don’t say Jimin will hate you again, because I’m not buying it.”

It could ruin BTS. It could kill our careers. Jimin may never speak to me again.

“You know how bad things would be if I got caught,” Yoongi looked up to meet Jin’s gaze. “If I was hooking up with some guy and the media got news of it.”

“Yeah,” Jin nodded. “Okay, so pretty bad, but I mean, Joon’s talked to you about this. We could work through that and ––.”

“Worse,” Yoongi said, staring down into his lap.

Jin was silent for a moment before, “What the hell did you do?” Slipped from his mouth, as aggressive as Jin could get.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said, feeling the tears well up again. Because he was. He was so fucking sorry it hurt.

“Does this put us at risk?” Jin went on. “Not just you, but BTS.”

“It could,” Yoongi admitted. He closed his eyes then and took a deep breath. “But I’m not going to let it. I’ll fix it,” he nodded, the tears already falling because that was mostly a lie. He couldn’t fix this. There was no way. But he knew Jimin wouldn’t do anything to hurt the others. They’d just have to never say anything about it ever and if Jimin never wanted to talk to Yoongi again, he’d just have to accept that.

In the back of his mind, his god forsaken brain reminded him that he was the boy’s first time with a guy and another wave of shame and self-hatred fluttered over him until he felt the need to punch the wall.

“You better,” Jin said, concern still worrying his brow.

A knock on the door. “Um, guys,” Namjoon was speaking. “The car’s here. We really need to get going.”

Yoongi let his head fall against his knees.

“Yoongi threw up,” Jin called over his shoulder, causing the shorter to look at him. “I don’t think it’s anything serious. Just food poisoning,” Jin nodded at Yoongi. “Why don’t we let him take a nap now? He can meet us there later.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay,” Joon’s voice echoed through the door. “Are you okay, Yoongi-Hyung?” He added on.

“I’m fine,” Yoongi said to the door, hearing the younger’s footsteps move away.

“Let’s get you up,” Jin grabbed Yoongi’s arm and helped him to his own bed. “I’m serious about you taking a nap, okay? I’ll lie for you. Do what you need to do and then meet us at the studio. If you’re not there in three hours, I’ll whoop your ass.”

“Thank you, Hyung,” Yoongi slumped to his bed, aware that the bandana was still held tight in his grip.

Jin closed their bedroom door behind him, the patter and sounds of movement beyond dying after another close of a door beyond Yoongi’s own.

Yoongi rubbed his thumb over the material of the bandana.

He’d had sex with Jimin.

It was such a strange thing to begin wrapping his mind around, such a painful awareness that every simple memory of his late night hook-ups now resonated with something so much deeper and more intense because it had been Jimin the whole time.

And it was Yoongi’s fault.

His own mind had tried to rationalize for maybe half a second that maybe it wasn’t so bad, because they had both been consenting adults and it was kind of both of their faults, but then he knew that if one was more at fault that the other it was him. Because he had gone there looking for someone that looked like his bandmate and if that hadn’t been the case he would have never walked up to Jimin. He would’ve never considered having sex with someone who looked so much like his friend if he wasn’t harboring the worlds biggest crush on the boy and this was all his fault.

Vaguely, Yoongi remembered Jimin admitting that he reminded Jimin of someone he knew too.

Yoongi had asked if he liked that person.

Jimin had said that wasn’t it… which now hurt. Of course that fucking hurt. That was like the rejection he’d never been able to get before and –– fuck. That wasn’t important now. Because then the boy had said that he trusted that person, trusted the person Yoongi reminded him enough that the fact alone that Yoongi looked like him made Jimin trust him.

Which was naive, probably.

But it was also probably Yoongi he was referring to.

Which meant that Jimin trusted him that much.

And he’d fucked it up.


The drive alone to the studio was way too quiet. Yoongi had managed to sleep, if only because the panic attack had drained him so much, but it had been futile because he’d woken up with tears still in his eyes, even more tired than he had been before, and with a thousand and one thoughts racing through his head.

He knew what Jimin sounded like during sex, knew what he felt like, knew where his goddamned prostrate was, how his dick felt in his hand, how he gave blowjobs, how his tongue tasted, and that he liked getting bit, if only a little –– all of which were things Yoongi had no business knowing and now he knew it all, and Jimin had no idea. He felt disgusting with the idea that Jimin wasn’t aware of any of it. That the boy was fine right now with the others simply because he didn’t know.

… maybe it would be best if Jimin never knew.

Yoongi played it out in his head, but shook it off before he could get too far.

That wasn’t right. That wasn’t fair. 

He still had no idea what to do. 

Even as he stared out the window, watching the short drive pass by, Yoongi’s eyes snapped closed a shaky breath falling out of him because he’d had sex with Jimin because he was pissed at him, and oh god, he was the one Jimin was pissed at too, wasn’t he? 

And then he was reeling again, feeling his insides clam up because of the time Jimin had asked him why he was so nice to him. The time Jimin told him about that dickweed, who’d tried to –– and Yoongi had been pissed at the situation before, but knowing it was Jimin who had gone through that made him want to scream.

No wonder he’d been so weird.

He was hiding so much, struggling with so much. And Yoongi had been there the whole time and knew none of it.

It took Yoongi a minute to realize the car had stopped. 

He fumbled out, stepping inside the building and making his way towards one of the larger studio rooms. The run down of the choreography included their back up dancers, this time to make sure everything fit and worked how it was supposed to. A last minute check before they were taking flight in a couple days.

Walking in, Yoongi felt nauseous. He knew he looked awful, but he couldn’t bring it in himself to care as he slipped into the room, music playing loud from the speakers as his members and BigHit’s other dancers moved in sync.

Yoongi really wanted to go as unnoticed as possible, realizing it was probably a naive hope when someone actually stopped the music once they noticed him.

“Yoongi,” their choreographer called out. “You’re not sick, are you?”

Yoongi shook his head.

“You better not be,” the man assured, “Can’t have you getting everyone else sick.”

“It was just food poisoning,” Yoongi copied Jin’s lie, moving to drop his jacket in the pile with the other member’s clothes.

It went fine.

Yoongi could say that at least. It was easy to ignore every one and be ignored when there was a direct goal ahead of them, an intent focus. It didn’t mean he didn’t catch Hoseok’s concerned glances in the mirror, or feel the others watching him –– didn’t mean Jin didn’t pat him on the shoulder assuringly every chance he could, Namjoon too –– didn’t mean Jimin didn’t watch him with a concerned pout Yoongi refused to acknowledge or meet with his own gaze.

Time moved at a relative speed and soon they were piling back into their car to go back to their dorms to shower, change, and get ready for the next item on their agenda.

If Yoongi had been less tired, he may have waited to see which vehicle Jimin slipped into to make sure he sat in not that vehicle. He realized his mistake of slipping in first and pressing himself to the back corner when said boy sat in the seat beside him, Taehyung landing in the third back seat and successfully trapping Yoongi where he sat.

He could feel himself losing air, so he turned from both of them to stare intently out the window.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Hyung?” Jimin asked.

Yoongi hummed an affirmative, not trusting himself to use words at the moment.

The car started, rumbling down the short distance. And it was a short drive, Yoongi reasoned. He would be fine keeping his distance from the younger, staying away, all that stuff. He just shouldn’t talk to him. Shouldn’t talk to him and that was it.

Stubby fingers reached to draw Yoongi’s grasp from where he tensed it to his leg before intertwining between Yoongi’s own, a comforting squeeze following.

The tears were returning full force, along with a breathless panic as everything he’d done swept over his awareness.

Screwing his eyes closed, Yoongi tugged his hand free from Jimin’s grip, shoving his hand out of reach and turning his body further. He swallowed over the look of shock he knew the younger was wearing and knew he had to say something. “Not right now, Jimin,” came out weak off his tongue, but it was all he could manage as he felt the younger shift away from him in the seat.


“I don’t know what I did,” Jimin murmured to Taehyung as he laid down in his own bed.

Hoseok peered over at them curiously from where he was crawling into his bed. “What are you talking about?”

Jimin flopped down. “About how Yoongi hates me now.”

Hoseok scoffed a small laugh. “Yoongi definitely doesn’t hate you.”

“He does now,” Jimin insisted. “He won’t even look at me,” he pouted, feeling overwhelmed by feelings he didn’t have the strength to delve into right now, but from the ache in his chest, Jimin wondered if this was some form of heartbreak. 

“He’s had a bad day,” Hoseok tried to excuse. “He’s probably just grumpy from feeling sick.”

“But I don’t think he was sick,” Jimin mumbled. 

“What do you mean?” Hoseok pressed.

I think he was having a panic attack. “Nothing. Never mind,” Jimin waved his hand, the pout returning. “Even if he’s having a bad day, he’ll still look at you and Tae.”

“Yeah, Hyung,” Taehyung addressed Hoseok, agreeing with Jimin, “He is being really weird around Jimin. Chim’s not just making that up or imagining it.”

Hoseok frowned. “I’m sure if you talk about it everything will be fine.”

“He won’t even look at me,” Jimin huffed, “How are we supposed to talk?”

Jimin at least tried to take the older’s advice. When he woke up the next morning he almost believed that everything would be fine. Yoongi would be feeling better and there wouldn’t be any more weirdness –– or, at least, any more than usual. But when Jimin walked into the kitchen, looking for the older who was looking at him in turn and made eye contact, before Jimin could even say anything, Yoongi was standing up, grabbing his mug of coffee and excusing himself with a simple, “I’m going to head to the studio for a bit.”

“Oh, okay,” Namjoon turned in his seat to watch as the older left, the front door swinging closed behind him shortly after.

Jimin worried his lip, feeling a pained sort of panic rush inside him. What did he do? What did Jimin do that had Yoongi so upset? Did he say something? –– He couldn’t remember saying anything. Was it because Jimin had cried on him and slept in his bed? Because, yeah, that hadn’t been the most normal thing to do, but Yoongi hadn’t been upset after that night, so why would he get upset just a few days later.

Did he realize Jimin liked him?

Jimin took a sharp breath even as he made his way to the others, ready to pretend that everything was fine even as Taehyung exchanged a look with Hoseok that seems to say I told you so. 

Did Yoongi realize and now he was trying to let him down easy? Did Jimin really ruin their relationship without even having to confess? Oh, god, what if ––

“Jimin, you alright?” Namjoon snapped him out of his thoughts.

Jimin nodded, leaning forward to collect food onto his plate.

Jimin was not alright. He was not alright because Yoongi was avoiding him, and there was no other way around it. Jimin would walk into a room, Yoongi would walk out. Jimin would get in a car, Yoongi would wait and get into a different one. Jimin would try to say something to him, anything to him, and Yoongi would suddenly be rushing off because he “remembered something he needed to grab.” 

Somehow, someway, Jimin had ruined one of the greatest things in his life.

What did he do now? Did he try apologizing? Because Jimin kinda wanted to yell at the older for treating him this way, so he wasn’t sure any attempt he gave at an apology wouldn’t end up with him in tears yelling.

It was all too much and it almost made Jimin cancel on his Masked Stranger.

It was supposed to be their last meeting for awhile, but Jimin almost didn’t even have the heart to go. It would feel weird to go to his Yoongi lookalike when his actual Yoongi didn’t even want to look at him.

But maybe Jimin could just forget all of that, including that this guy looked like his hyung. Maybe he could just go and get a distraction from the mess that seemed to have sprouted out of nowhere. Besides, the masked stranger was nice. He was nice to Jimin. And Jimin really wanted someone to hold him, distract him, and say sweet things like his stranger tended to do a lot.

By the end of the day, it became the only thing Jimin was looking forward to.

Yoongi headed off to the studio once more and Jimin scoffed as the door closed behind him. Scuffing his feet to the ground, he turned on his heel and hid inside his own room, ignoring Hoseok’s pitying glances and Taehyung’s assurance that it would be fine and it was nothing to get worried about. 

Jimin tried to read to pass the time, but he couldn’t keep a sentence straight in his head, so he ended up just staring up at the ceiling, a self pitying pout spread on his face until he got so bored with that, he began to watch videos on his phone.

It had been awhile since he’d seemed desperate to just make time go by. Usually, everything was so fast he never felt like he had enough.

The others eventually went to bed. As Taehyung’s breathing filled the room, Jimin slipped from his comforter and gathered up his duffel bag once more. Strange, he thought as he zipped it up, I thought I closed that. He pushed it over his shoulder and left the dorm, heading back to the studio to change, get ready, and wait.

Except… his Masked Stranger wasn’t there. 

Jimin waited at the club, mask on, at the bar for well over an hour, having sent various texts that went unanswered.

Maybe he forgot.

Maybe he fell asleep or something.

Jimin sighed, feeling his self pity and confusion expanding as if ready to swallow him. Maybe, like Yoongi, he was just done with him. Maybe Jimin had messed up this relationship too.

Chapter Text

Yoongi couldn’t sleep. So he went to the roof as the night expanded above, grey streaking the black sky as a cold wind pushed through the material of his coat and pajamas to tear at his skin. 

Yoongi couldn’t sleep.

And he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to again.

Every time he closed his eyes, it was just Jimin. Jimin in the club, nervous and unsure; Jimin kissing him, almost falling off his stool; Jimin saying he’d done stuff to himself before; Jimin throwing his head back as Yoongi pushed in the first time; Jimin’s fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, tugging through strands of his hair; Jimin with his legs around Yoongi’s waist; Jimin straddling him; Jimin’s lips around him; Jimin swallowing; Jimin mewling; Jimin asking him to bite him –– just, Jimin.

Looking back on all the nights Yoongi had spent at that stupid club, it was too easy to remove the mask in his mind, see everything for what it really was, a strange mix of heat and sadness twisting in his gut. Because he’d done that with Jimin, but he really shouldn’t have.

Other things were starting to click too. Like Jimin’s limp the day after their first meeting. Yoongi closed his eyes tight at that. He’d done that to him. Or that night they ran into each other at the studio. Or that day when Hoseok said Jimin had cried all night. It was later that week that Jimin told Yoongi about the asshole at the club, wasn’t it?

Everything was starting to make sense and each new revelation seemed to steal Yoongi’s air from him.

Because there was also the fact that Jimin had been so weird lately.

And then there was that dream the younger had talked to him about.

Hindsight was really something else. Yoongi felt like an idiot for not putting it together sooner. It was never about wearing pink or wearing black. The younger had been talking about being gay.

Who would have thought that Jimin was harboring the same fears that Yoongi felt towards getting caught and ruining everything? That he’d even gone to Yoongi for some form of comfort over it and Yoongi had just completely missed the point. Who would have thought that Jimin would choose to cope with it the same way Yoongi did. At a club in the dead of night as careful to not get caught as one could be.

Who would have thought that they would run into each other like that.

Yoongi had to talk to him. He had to fix this. He had to try.

He was dimly aware of his phone going off in his pocket a couple times, the third ding finally snapping him from his clouded head space as he pulled it out. 

1:03 I’m here.

1:27 Are you running late?

1:42 Are you coming?



Yoongi straightened. He’d completely forgotten about that. They’d agreed to meet up tonight, hadn’t they? And now Jimin –– his Jimin –– was sitting in a dirty club waiting for him.

Yoongi couldn’t go. 

Of course he couldn’t. What would he do? What would he say? 


What would Jimin do if Yoongi didn’t show up? Would he just go home?… Or would he find someone else?

The thought of Jimin in somebody else’s arms had his chest twisting unpleasantly. He hated it–– hated it because he didn’t have the right to feel that way. Jimin wasn’t his, never would be. But it was still his Jimin. His friend, his bandmate –– one of the most important people in Yoongi’s life, and the boy he just happened to be in love with. Yoongi couldn’t help but feel the twist of frustration at the thought, feel the twist of regret and anxiety.

What if Jimin got hurt again because he wasn’t there? 

What if Jimin really did end up in a room with someone else because he wasn’t there?

You can’t avoid him forever.

Yoongi looked at the time. It was nearing two a.m. What better time to have a life altering conversation. Stomach plummeting at the thought of what he was about to do, Yoongi unlocked his phone and sent out a simple text.


Running late. Be there soon. Go ahead and rent a room.

2:19. That’s what his phone was saying the time was. Jimin sighed, scuffing the bottoms of his shoes against the dingy carpet from where he sat on the violet sheets, an orange lamp casting a dim light around the room, shadows swelling the corners and the folding in the bedding. Music thrummed through the walls, loud enough that the activities from neighboring rooms rarely bled through. And Jimin was sitting on a bed, alone.

Why was he even here?

He shook his head at himself.

This was never supposed to turn into this, was never supposed to leave Jimin so reliant on a distraction or a fantasy. He’d only come here to be sure. And he was sure. So why was he here?

More importantly, why hadn’t he just found someone else after the Masked guy stood him up for another hour.

This was going to have to come to an end. Of course it was. And Jimin knew he was going to get hurt in it.

Maybe this could be the last time, he thought as he played with his phone, turning it over and over in his grip. He’d go on tour, delete the app, and just never come back to this club. The Masked guy would have to understand, right? It was never supposed to be a long term deal, never supposed to go like this. It’s not like they meant anything to each other. It’s not like Jimin would be hurting him by breaking it off.

Besides, he had to think about his band. He had to think about himself. And he had to think about Yoongi.

This was just hurting him. Pretending when he couldn’t have what it almost felt like he could have was hurting. And it was hurting his relationship with one of his closest friends too. He’d rather have Yoongi as a friend than as nothing at all.

Maybe this should be the last time, Jimin considered. But that thought alone made it very hard to get into any kind of mood the situation would require.

Maybe he should just text the guy and say not tonight, say he went home, got tired –– something.

But, if it really was his last time, maybe he should just stay. When would he get another chance to ––

There was a knock on the door, a small one, barely there. And Jimin was jolting from his thoughts, tucking his phone into his back pocket as he stood up to answer it. He tugged the door open enough to look out into the dim hallway and see a familiar stature.

“Hey, Hyung,” Jimin pushed a smile onto his face, opening the door further to grant access.

The older was staring, movements hesitant.

Strange, Jimin thought, wrapping his hand around the boy’s wrist to drag him into the room with a small laugh as he closed the door behind them both, clicking the lock in place.

“You’re really late, Hyung,” Jimin pouted, pulling the older closer to the bed.

The older let himself get dragged along, seeming kind of out of it. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Did you fall asleep?” Jimin tilted his head at him. “You seem pretty tried.”

Jimin watched the older swallow, could see the glimmer of the lamps light in his eyes as he seemed to regard Jimin with a careful caution. Had something happened?

Jimin moved into the older’s personal space, noticing the sharp intake of breath the older took only to hold. 

“It’s okay, Hyung,” Jimin tried to assure, smiling again at the older as he wrapped his arms around the back of the boy’s neck. “It’s just me,” he said with a small shrug, moving forward, ready to connect their lips.

He could feel the boy’s breath against his, heard the sharp sound like a gasp as hands tugged his arms away, holding. The tight, panicked eyes matched the panicked tone that said, “Jimin, wait.”




A three count seemed to pass of just silence where the grip tightened around Jimin’s wrists before the younger was stepping back by his own accord, a breathlessness stealing over him as he said, “You know my name?”

Behind the mask was the same panic, the older’s mouth opening and closing a couple times.

Jimin twisted out of his hold, glaring at the older as he felt his own kind of panic start to build. Because… Wait, that’s not right. That can’t be. That doesn’t ––

“I’m so sorry,” the words were thick as the older dropped his head. “I-I didn’t know. I s-swear. I wouldn’t have if I had…” he looked up and seemed to lose his breath all over again, “known.”

“Known what, Hyung?” Jimin wrapped his arms around his frame, feeling the tears start to burn.

The older stood with his hands outstretched, hands clasping and unclasping before a trembling sigh fell past his lips. He stepped to the nightstand reaching over and tugging the shade from the lamp. Jimin blinked against the brighter light, the white light pushing through the nearby shadows, illuminating the older as he stood so close to it.

Jimin saw how his fingers shook as he reached up to the mask on his face.

Please don’t, Jimin wanted to say, almost did. Because his brain was rushing for an explanation and it was really only landing on one that kinda made all the sense in the world while simultaneously shattering Jimin’s world, and that couldn’t be it –– wouldn’t be it –– but, if it wasn’t it, why was the older taking off his mask? If it wasn’t… 

… If it wasn’t, why was he watching Yoongi drop the mask to the small table?

Jimin let out a shaky breath, one that twisted into a sob so suddenly, Jimin clapped his hand over his mouth to try and catch the sound. He failed.

The older met his gaze then, shadows falling across the far-side of his features, but the emotions were still easy to catch: fear, grief, guilt… regret.

It all hit Jimin like a hammer to the chest and he needed out. He needed out right then. Because this wasn’t right. And this wasn’t okay. And it couldn’t be real. There had to be another explanation. But, if there was, Jimin couldn’t find it.

He pushed himself forward, ready to run, to flee –– he could figure this out later, right now he just needed out, and ––

“Please don’t leave!” Yoongi practically threw himself at the door as Jimin’s grip reached the handle, spreading out as his eyes widened further in panic.

Jimin looked up at him with tears welling in his eyes.

“Please don’t leave,” Yoongi held out his hands then, stepping away from the door. “I-I didn’t mean to — I don’t want to trap you in here, but please don’t leave. Please. Please. You can’t.” His head fell forward, his hands clutching at his chest as he breathed over his own tears— his own crying. “I k-know I have no right to ask you to stay after I ran off when I found out, but please, please, you can’t leave. You can’t. Because we have to talk. We have to…” he grasped the air in front of him as if it had the answer he was seeking, “fix this,” he breathed. “We have to. And you can’t leave. Because if you leave, I’m scared it’ll be over. And it can’t be over. It can’t be. Because I can’t lose you, Jimin.” He finally met Jimin’s gaze then, his own full of tears as they streaked down his cheeks. “I can’t lose you.”

Fingers trembling, Jimin’s grip slipped from the door handle.

He opened his mouth to say something, but all that tumbled out was another breathless sob as he pushed his hands through his hair, grabbing tight to the locks as if that could actually ground him, could actually bring sense into his reality.

Sinking to the ground in a crouch, Jimin stared at the floor, trying to fix his breathing, keep it even, when every part of his diaphragm was trying to wrack him into uncontrollable sobs.

“I’m so sorry,” Yoongi sobbed, sliding down to the ground next to Jimin, his back against the door as his butt his the ground. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know,” he shook his head. “I s-swear, I ––.”

“You’re gay?” The words broke out of Jimin. The betrayed tint wasn’t supposed to pitch the words like it did, wasn’t even supposed to be in them, but Jimin almost couldn’t help it. This whole fucking time, he’d been ––.

“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded, wiping at his eyes. “Yeah. I am.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” And rationally, Jimin knew he shouldn’t be yelling, knew it barely even made sense that he was. But the tears were slipping through the space between his mask and his face, breathing hurt, and Jimin kinda, sorta felt like his whole life had just come to a stuttering hault.

“I couldn’t,” Yoongi said, the sadness bleeding into his tone, though he remained much calmer than Jimin. “I-I was scared of what would happen. Of what you guys would think. Of what it would change.”

And Jimin really didn’t need to hear the answer, because he already knew it. Knew it because it was his answer too.

“How long have you known?” Jimin hiccuped over a sob, keeping his gaze trained to the floor.

“Since before I knew you,” Yoongi admitted. “I’m sorry, Jimin. I’m so ––.”

“Stop saying that,” Jimin snapped.

So Yoongi shut up.

Jimin sniffled, trying to make it so breathing out of his nose was possible again as he looked up. “How did this happen?”

“I didn’t know you were gay,” Yoongi tried, hands trying to enunciate his point as they lifted from his lap. “I really thought you weren’t. I really thought —.”

“Its been you the whole time?” Jimin couldn’t even bring himself to look at Yoongi, his gaze falling on the wall by his head, because in his mind all their meetings were fluttering past his awareness like a sped up movie reel. Every look, every word, every touch — it had all been Yoongi. It had all been his Yoongi. His Yoongi who held his hand and told him it was going to be okay, who fought with him over his health and watched movies with him to try and make him feel better. Jimin’s Yoongi.

He’d done all that with Yoongi.

“Yeah,” the older nodded. “Yeah, it’s been me.”

Jimin’s first time kissing a guy, being with a guy –– every time he had bent over or spread his legs, or got on his knees, it had all been for Yoongi. He’d sucked the older off, he’d let him fuck him, he’d –– panic and embarrassment were an awful combination to feel with such force.

“Jimin, you have to breathe.”

A hand was on his knees, the words knocking the air back into his lungs and Jimin coughed over nothing, sliding to the ground on his rear just to pull his legs up tight to his chest.

“How did this happen?” Jimin repeated softly.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi said after a silence Jimin was sure had almost been filled with more apologizing. “Chance, I guess,” he shrugged tiredly. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

Jimin flinched against Yoongi’s words. They shouldn’t have hurt like they did. Not under these circumstances.

Wrong echoed in his mind.

He supposed that was what this was: wrong.

… it hadn’t felt wrong.

Jimin screwed his eyes shut tight. “What do we do now?” And he waited for the dreaded answer, the pretend it never happened, the move on and let it go. Because they would have to, wouldn’t they? For the others. For themselves. But Jimin was almost one hundred percent certain that there was no way he could pretend it never happened, could move on, or could let go.

Not when it had been with Yoongi.

“Can I hug you?” Yoongi said instead.

Jimin peaked up at him, heard the older sniffle as he made eye contact with a sad, tear filled gaze and Jimin was nodding before his brain could catch up, legs falling away as his arms reached out.

Yoongi was there, solid in where his arms wrapped around his neck, solid in how he wrapped his own arms to Jimin’s waist, falling to sit next to him as he practically pulled Jimin into his lap. Solid, but shaky as he held him, tears wetting Jimin’s neck.

I can’t lose you, he’d said.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” Jimin said brokenly. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Yoongi sniffled as he pulled away, trying to wipe away his tears with the back of his hand as he looked at Jimin. The older’s hands reached up to hold the edges of the mask on Jimin’s face, thumbs brushing where the bottoms pressed to Jimin’s cheeks, hesitating there as if giving Jimin the option to stop him before Yoongi was pulling the black plastic from the younger’s face, letting it fall beside where Jimin’s legs currently rested over Yoongi’s.

“We can’t tell the others,” Jimin said as he watched the mask fall to the ground. “We can’t. It-it’s too much. It’s— they w-won’t understand. Not this.”

“Okay, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi nodded.

At the sound of the fond ending to his name, Jimin’s lip started to tremble again. It was too real, each memory –– knowing it was with the man in front of him.

“So w-what do we do?” He asked.

Thumbs brushed under Jimin’s eyes to drag away the tears. “Why do you think I know?”

“You’ve had more time to think about it,” Jimin lightly punched the older’s shoulder, the movement so weak it didn’t even jostle him as he looked sadly at Jimin. 

“We can’t take it back,” Yoongi said, brushing a hand through his hair. 

Do you want to? Jimin almost asked, wanted to too, but couldn’t get himself to. 

“I guess—,” Yoongi blinked away more tears as he turned his head. “I guess we try to move past this.”

Jimin looked down at the words he knew were going to come eventually. It shouldn’t have hurt.

“How?” Jimin gave a defeated shrug as he voiced his question.

Palms were pressing to the sides of Jimin’s jaw, pushing the boy’s face up to meet Yoongi’s gaze once more. “I care about you,” the older assured. “So so much,” he nodded, eyes searching Jimin’s as he went on. “You’re so important to me, Jimin, you know that, right?”

Jimin allowed himself to nod.

“This can’t be it,” Yoongi went on, sniffling again. “This can’t be enough to wreck us. It was— it was just sex, wasn’t it?” There was an edge of uncertainty that punctuated the question. He was waiting for Jimin’s assurance that that was all there was to it.

The sex with the stranger had just been sex.

But sex with Yoongi was something so vastly different it was threatening to swallow Jimin whole.

Sex with Yoongi was not just sex. It couldn’t be just sex when Jimin now had hours upon hours of memories to sort through with the now acute awareness of the identity of the person behind the mask. Knowing that every word spoken came from Yoongi, every gentle touch had come from Yoongi, every thrust had been delivered by Yoongi –– it wasn’t just anything.

It was everything and then some.

“Yeah,” Jimin found himself agreeing anyway, swallowing over the lump threatening to suffocate him in his throat. “It was just sex.”

The fingers holding his face still jerked with a soft twitch, the older seeming to catch his breath as something danced through his eyes before his gaze was falling away, hands moving from skin to rest against Jimin’s leg, over the thick material of his pants.

“I care about you too, Hyung,” Jimin said. “And you’re very important to me,” he looked down to trace his hand over where Yoongi’s was resting nearby, against his pants. The words I’m in love with you echoed out in his own head and in his own head alone. “I won’t let this ruin us.”

“I won’t either,” Yoongi assured.

Jimin almost tried to smile then, but realized quickly that it wasn’t something he could even attempt to manage, so he gave up on it and looked down again. “I don’t want to be here anymore, Hyung,” Jimin wrapped his arms tight around his frame. “Can we please leave? I really don’t want to be here.” Tears were already springing back to his eyes as he glanced around the dim room, the dim room that suddenly felt a hundred times smaller, like it was squeezing around his frame, around his lungs –– his heart.

Yoongi was nodding, fingers grasping at the black mask on the ground to place it back over Jimin’s face, tugging the elastic back behind his head and letting it rest. The older stood up then, moving back to the side table to grab his own mask, pulling it over his face. He placed the shade back over the lamp and walked back to Jimin, offering a hand.

Jimin felt shaky on his legs, leaning against Yoongi even as he opened the door and they both stepped out.

The music had always been loud, but now it felt insufferable, pounding in his head, threatening to crack his skull. Crowded, the interior seemed to sweep Jimin away, to crush him in-between moving bodies, suffocate him in the heat. Jimin had never had problems with crowds or claustrophobia before, but trying to move through the club to the exit felt strangely like running in a dream, legs sticking to the ground, not really making any progress.

A hand grasped at his elbow, the touch snapping Jimin back into the now enough to realize he was hugging Yoongi’s left arm to his chest like a lifeline, the older right hand pressed to his elbow, leading –– concerned probably.

The people fell away behind the curtain. Masks were handed back to the woman who gave them their jackets in return for the neon numbers stored in their pockets. Her gaze was hidden from them in the near darkness, but Jimin could feel the judgement. 

You weren’t supposed to leave with anyone here.

Jimin turned away, facing the exit and froze. Somehow, leaving felt like it would make it real.

He barely had time to feel another surge of panic at the prospect of walking out when a hand was tugging his jacket’s hoody up and over his face, tugging him out into the night.

Cold bit against his exposed skin on the stretch of sidewalk. Yoongi’s grip was firm where it held his arm, tugging him from the club and away from the street it rested on. 

“Come on,” Yoongi led him in the direction of their apartment — in the direction of the others, of their friends, their life —

Are we going to be okay? Jimin couldn’t get himself to ask.


Beeping echoed from the convenient store microwave. Exhaustion weighed on Jimin’s frame. The realization, the panic, the sadness –– it was all too much, too tiring. Outside the window his gaze remained on, the world continued to exist in its night, peaceful and unknowing of the catastrophe that was threatening to reshape Jimin’s entire existence. 

Steam wafted from the plastic cup as Yoongi pushed it in front of Jimin, chopsticks handed over next as the older pulled himself up into the barstool next to Jimin, sticking his chopsticks into his own cup.

“Thanks, Hyung,” Jimin managed a weak smile.

Yoongi nodded.

Jimin felt exhausted, but Yoongi looked exhausted.

“You realized because of the bruises,” Jimin accused, tugging his food closer to him, “Didn’t you?”

Yoongi nodded again.

“And you had a panic attack,” Jimin added, trending carefully.

“So you heard?” Yoongi sighed.

“Yeah,” Jimin nodded. What did it mean? What did it mean that when Yoongi found out, his first reaction was to reach such a state of panic he stopped breathing? Jimin supposed his reaction hadn’t been much better, and probably would’ve been much worse if Yoongi hadn’t been there, but Jimin’s panic came from his fears of losing Yoongi, of ruining their band, of hurting his friends –– of accidentally acting on something that was forever supposed to remain hidden. Where did Yoongi’s panic come from?

“Bite marks on the wrist are kind of a dead giveaway,” the older supplied, almost light, almost teasing. The words sounded out more like an offering in the heavy weight they were both burdened with. Jimin wasn’t sure he could return it.

It was his embarrassment after all. He cringed at the implication –– of the understanding that it had been Yoongi who sunk his teeth into Jimin’s skin, who left marks simply because Jimin begged him to.

“This is so weird,” Jimin shook his head, stepping his chopsticks down into the cup.

When he looked at Yoongi, he could see the dust on the shirt peaking out from his jacket, could still see it on his pants and a spot on his neck he’d failed to wipe it from.

“Looking back and realizing we did all that together,” Yoongi said with a sigh.

Yes,” Jimin leaned until he was in danger of falling out of his chair. It was such a sudden relief to know that at least someone understood.

Yoongi let out a soft laugh, running his hand through his hair, his own sort of flinch on his face.

“I really didn’t know you were gay,” Jimin said then, twisting the wooden sticks through the broth. Distantly, he wondered what would’ve happened if he had known. Would anything have turned out different? 

“Who knows?” Jimin asked instead.

“My mom,” Yoongi nodded. “My brother. He was actually the one who made me aware of it. I was so naive for so long,” he shook his head at himself. “I ignored every single sign because it was too hard to believe, to come to terms with. I was never really focused on relationships anyways, but I –– I knew there was something different about me. My brother’s the one who confronted me about it. After he said the word, it stuck in my radar. It wasn’t a couple weeks later I had to accept it.” He sighed. “Namjoon knows,” he threw on there, “We’ve lived together way too long for him not to. He was the first person I actually came out to, rather than having them just guess it. That was way back, before I knew any of you guys, when it was just him and I and debuting still felt kind of impossible. I was more reckless then,” Yoongi traced the rim of his instant noodles cup. “Seokjin knows. But, again, he just kinda picked it up. He’s observant like that.”

“Anyone else?” Jimin asked.

“You,” Yoongi’s lips pressed in the corner. “As of tonight. What about you?”

“Taehyung knows,” Jimin nodded. “I had to tell someone, you know.”

“I know,” Yoongi nodded in understanding.

“That’s it,” Jimin pressed his lips together.

“What about your parents?” Yoongi tilted his head.

Jimin shook his. “I can’t do that to them,” he said silently, brokenly. “Besides,” he shook off the pity and tried to lighten his expression. “It’s not like it matters. I can’t ever act on it unless it’s in some anonymous club or risk losing everything, so I guess I’ll just die alone,” he sighed, fingers twisting together on the table in front of him.

He could feel Yoongi watching him. “How long have you known?”

Jimin flinched, turning to face the older as he leaned on the table. “I’ve known for awhile, you know, like in the back of my mind and stuff. But I was ignoring it because ignoring it was easier. I even hooked up with some girls, dated some too, trying to prove it to myself, but it didn’t work,” he admitted. “I wasn’t one hundred percent sure though, not until…” He bit at his lip and turned from Yoongi.

“That’s why you were there that night?” Jimin tried not to read too much into the pain in Yoongi’s tone. “To figure it out? Be sure?”

Jimin nodded.

Silence for way too long and then, “And you’re sure now?”

Jimin actually managed to laugh, shoulders shaking from where he stared down into his lap. “Pretty damn sure, Hyung.”

When he looked up, Jimin knew he wasn’t imagining the blush spreading to the older’s ears.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said then, leaning over his food and avoiding looking at Jimin.

“What for?” Jimin kicked to spin his chair side to side.

The older struggled to form words for a moment as Jimin stilled his movements to peer at him. “I just ––,” Yoongi ran an hand through his hair again, “–– That was like your first time with a guy, right?” He twisted up his face even as he said it. “And it shouldn’t have been me, but it was, and I’m sorry.”


“You know it was just as much my fault as it was yours, right?” Jimin pushed then. “It takes two to do what we did.”

“But,” Yoongi started, but seemed to stop himself. Whatever he was planning on saying died off and he just shook his head.

“Besides,” Jimin went on. “I’m sorry it made things weird for us, and hard,” he picked his words carefully, “But it could’ve been a lot worse, don’t you think?” Jimin offered, wondering if he was crossing a line.

“What do you mean?”

Jimin tossed out his hand. “You know, it wasn’t … bad,” Jimin cringed at having to say it out loud, because not bad didn’t even do it justice. It had been fucking phenomenal. “As far as first times go,” Jimin shrugged, “I don’t mind it being like that.”

“Even if it was with me?” Yoongi scoffed then, the disbelief evident.

Especially because it was with you, Jimin realized with a start. He closed his eyes over the thought, because he couldn’t do that right now, couldn’t sink deeper into the hole he’d burried himself in at this point. “If we get through this,” Jimin said with a determined nod, “if we can still be as close as we were and it doesn’t ruin our careers, then yeah, I don’t mind that it was with you.” Jimin nodded again at his conclusion, content with what he’d said. 

Yoongi was looking at him carefully.

“Who would’ve thought I want to be a rock in my next life Min Yoongi could bang like that,” Jimin teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

The older made an incredulous sound, reaching to swat Jimin, “Yah,” he shook his head. “Don’t say stuff like that,” his face already turning red.

Jimin giggled. “Our fans would be thrilled to know that about you,” he stuck out his tongue.

Yoongi shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

It felt almost normal, felt almost like they weren’t hiding out in a convenience store to avoid going home after they’d just discovered they’d been unintentionally sleeping with each other for a good couple months. Which is why Jimin heard the words, “That’s why I’m your favorite,” slip out of his mouth.

Only for him to then still, the joke gone from the air as he stiffened. “Am I still your favorite, Hyung?” A small smile, mostly sad accompanied the question.

Yoongi blinked at him, disregarding his food as he turned to Jimin, leaning closer to say. “Of course you are, why would that change?”

“Isn’t everything different now?” Jimin shrugged.

“Why does it have to be?” Yoongi tried, but it sounded weak.

Jimin dropped his hands, sighed, “I don’t know, Hyung. Maybe because you now know I like being bit, and I know you have a hyung kink,” he tossed out his hand, ignoring Yoongi’s scandalized call and the glare that accompanied it. “That’s not… normal,” he decided on saying. “Doesn’t knowing this stuff –– doesn’t what we did –– doesn’t it change things?”

It wasn’t just sex, his brain stubbornly supplied. 

Yoongi clamped his jaw closed, turning away. “I just think we’re stronger than that. Like us,” he gestured between them, “Our relationship, you know?” He sighed. “It’ll be weird for awhile, I’m sure. But eventually, we’ll find our normal again, right?”

“Sure, Hyung,” But Jimin wasn’t convinced, not at all. 


“Will you go back?”

Yoongi’s question pushed out into the night, whispered as the pair made their way from the dance studio to their apartment. They’d both needed to shower the dust from their skin, their hair still wet as they’d stepped out into the street.

“To the club?” Jimin clarified.

Yoongi nodded. He wanted to pretend that he was just asking for the younger’s safety and well-being, but of course there was an ever present part of himself that needed Jimin to say no for reasons he didn’t feel like he had the right feeling.

“No,” the younger answered with a small nod. “Not for long while. I need a break,” he laughed, but it was weak, forced –– probably just there to clear the air more than anything. “What about you?” He asked then, hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets as they crossed the street.

“Never again,” Yoongi said honestly. 

“Why did you go?” Jimin turned to him then. “I mean, I went to try and figure, you know, this,” he gestured to himself, “out. What brought you there?”

Yoongi pulled his gaze from the younger’s face. “I was figuring out my own stuff.”

“Like what?” Jimin prressed.

Yoongi flinched. He could almost perfectly remember the conversation he’d had with Jimin when he thought Jimin wasn’t Jimin. The conversation that went a little along the lines of ‘I’m fucking you because you look like a coworker of mine who I’m very much in love with, is that weird to you at all?’ –– the conversation that, if remembered by Jimin, would expose so much of what Yoongi had tried to keep hidden.

A part of him wondered if it was even worth hiding anymore after everything else, if it could ever possibly make anything worse that it currently was.

The other part of him that had rejected any kind of confrontation over the matter for literal years was decisive in not bringing it up unless Jimin did –– and then immediately apologizing profusely and swearing to get over it.

Because Yoongi had reminded Jimin of someone too, someone he wasn’t interested in like that. Right? That had been what the younger said. Which meant Yoongi kinda had the rejection he’d been missing. Which meant it was time to start moving on.

Which was coming at such a horrific time because how could he just move on when they’d done all that they had and when Jimin was gay and he might actually have a chance? 

“Just, uh,” Yoongi shrugged, “Letting off some steam. Figuring out what I could handle. Stuff like that.”

“You said you never met up with anyone more than once,” Jimin pointed out.

And Yoongi cringed because if he remembered that, there was a very likely possibility that he remembered everything else too.

“I didn’t. But we worked well together, remember?” Yoongi sighed out into the night.

Jimin burst into a fit of giggles.

The laughter was so sudden that Yoongi halted where he stood, turning back to face the younger as Jimin lost himself into his own laughter, body doubled over, his whole frame thrown into the way he laughed, like it usually did, as the sound guffawed past his lips and seemed to wake up the night. The boy was trying to straighten, wiping tears from his eyes as he struggled past his laughter to say, “This is ridiculous, isn’t it?” He clapped his hand to his forehead. “We slept together,” He announced.

Yoongi stepped closer, trying to shush him at the loud proclamation.

The younger drew away, still laughing, but those were definitely tears forming in his eyes as he pointed out at Yoongi. “I slept with Min Yoongi,” he said. “God, our fans would be so jealous.” He shook his head as he wiped at his eyes, still laughing, though softer.

Yoongi wished he would stop. There was something painful twisted into his smile, like he was hurting, like was struggling still and Yoongi had no idea how to take that away or make him feel better.

“I begged you to bite me,” Jimin’s head fell to a tilt. “I cried after I sucked you off –– oh my god, I had you teach me how to suck dick and I ––.”

“Jimin, stop,” Yoongi stepped closer, wrapping his arms around the younger and feeling him tremble in his hold. “Stop,” he said softer, holding him as the laughter finally turned into what it probably had been all along: tears.

“I embarrassed myself in front of you,” the younger’s words were muffled, but still there. 

“It’s not embarrassing,” Yoongi said, “Not anymore than anything I did.”

Jimin pushed against Yoongi’s chest, releasing himself from the older’s hold, shaking his head. “You must think I’m so pathetic,” he smiled then, but it was cruel and sad. 

“No,” Yoongi denied immediately. “I would never think that of you. Jimin, I ––.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me,” Jimin said then, simply and blunt, arms crossing over his chest. 

“What?” Yoongi faltered.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He dropped his arms, flopping them in Yoongi’s direction. “You found out two days ago, and you didn’t tell me. You saw the bruises, you texted me, and you figured it out. But you just hid from me,” Jimin took another step back then, his frown tugging on his face. “You made me feel like I’d done something wrong, like I’d messed up and hurt you somehow. And then you almost blew me off tonight, almost left me there alone.” 

Yoongi had been expecting Jimin to sound and be hurt about a lot of things when it all came out. But he could honestly say that was one he hadn’t even thought to consider.

“I wasn’t hiding it from you,” Yoongi tried.

“But you weren’t telling me either,” Jimin said simply. “What? Did you think I wouldn’t be able to handle it? That I wouldn’t be mature enough to talk it out and figure out how to deal with it? What?” Jimin asked, his tone almost pleading to know. “Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

“I thought you’d hate me,” Yoongi said. “I really did,” he added on at the simple disbelief that crossed the younger’s face. 

“Why would I hate you?” Jimin demanded, actually sounding stumped by the statement. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yes, it does,” Yoongi defended.

“It takes two to do what we did,” Jimin stepped closer, gesturing between them. “We both did it. We’re both at fault here. Why would I hate you?”

“Because I should’ve known better,” Yoongi blurted out. Because I was looking for someone who looked like you and that’s weird and stupid and I should’ve never thought that was okay. “I’m the hyung,” Yoongi sighed. “And I just, I’ve always just wanted to help you, to protect you.”

Jimin sighed, shaking his head. “You don’t have to protect me all the damned time. I can take care of myself.”

Yoongi must’ve given him a look that expressed: obviously not because Jimin was stomping forward, hand pointed out.

“This is exactly why we fought last time,” Jimin called out at him. “You care. You care and I get that and I appreciate it. But I have to go through things on my own sometimes. I have to learn on my own. And you aren’t my dad so stop treating me like a child all the time. I don’t want you leading me by the hand everywhere like a fucking kid who can’t take care of himself. I want you to be there when I need you, but it’s not your place to boss me around or tell me what I’m doing wrong or to make me feel like crap over something that is none of your business.”

“Jimin, I ––.”

“You should’ve told me.” The tears were back and falling now. “You shouldn’t have left me to make a fool out of myself in front of you again. You should have said something.” Jimin shook his head, wiping at his eyes as he turned to storm off.

Yoongi grabbed his arm. “Jimin, wait.”

Jimin sniffled, turning to avoid Yoongi’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said, hands moving to cup the younger’s face. “I’m sorry, Jimin. I –– I really didn’t know. I wasn’t thinking,” he tried, because it was true. “There’s not a manual for this kind of stuff,” Yoongi dropped his hands to Jimin’s shoulder, “I panicked and I wasn’t thinking and I’m sorry.”

Jimin slouched forward.

“I didn’t stand you up though,” Yoongi added, leaning forward to try and match the younger’s slouched gaze. “I just forgot cause things were crazy and I was panicking. I wasn’t going to leave you there alone. Not you. Not ever.”

“Can we go home?” Jimin moved from Yoongi’s hold. “I’m so tired, Hyung. I’m so tired and everything is just so much and I just ––.”

“Yeah, Jimin,” Yoongi nodded, nudging his arm. “Sure thing.”


Lying in bed was weird. Because everyone was asleep and Jimin was just a couple rooms away and everything was different and Yoongi felt so stupid. Exhausted and stupid. And he couldn’t get his eyes to stay closed because every time he let them drift closed for just a bit too long, Jimin was there, angry, or sad, or naked — and Yoongi was wrenching his eyes back open and cursing his very existence.

Because despite all his fears of hurting Jimin, he’d somehow managed to not hurt him how he thought he would, and hurt him in a different way by being an idiot. And, god. How did they fix this?

The door was creaking open, almost stopping Yoongi’s heart as he sat up in the darkness.

A figure peaked in, short and unsure and —

“Jimin?” Yoongi muttered into the darkness.

“You’re awake,” Jimin whispered back.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi cast a conscious glance at Jin, who was, luckily, still fast asleep.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jimin shrugged.

“Me neither,” Yoongi scooted closer. 

Jimin remained unsure in his doorway.

“Do you want to ––?” Yoongi started as Jimin did:

“Can I ––?”

They both stopped at the same time until Jimin finished, “–– stay with you tonight?”

“Of course,” Yoongi was already scooting over, making room for the younger as he climbed underneath the bedsheets, wiggling into Yoongi’s space.

“I don’t like fighting,” Jimin sighed against Yoongi’s collarbone. And when did staying this close start to feel normal?

“I’m sorry, you know.”

“I know,” Jimin said.

“Is this okay?” Yoongi said, referring to their proximity. 

Jimin nodded, head brushing under Yoongi’s chin. “Go to sleep, Hyung.”


But of course that wasn’t it, couldn’t be it either. Time ticked by until Jimin broke the silence once more. “Hyung, are we going to be okay?”

Yoongi pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Of course, Jimin-ah.”

“We’re okay?”

“We’re okay.”

“Goodnight, Hyung.”

Chapter Text

Maybe they weren’t okay.

But it didn’t really matter in the hustle and bustle of the days leading up to their tour. Couldn’t matter, not with dance practices and vocal checks, not with packing and preparations –– not with five other people constantly around them, constantly holding them together like the family they were supposed to be.

Jimin was there, constantly. No matter what Yoongi was doing, Jimin was there. A distance seemed to constantly stretch between them, like an invisible pole keeping them away from each other. But it didn’t mean Jimin wasn’t dancing in the same room as him, sitting several seat from him at meals or at meetings –– 

Yoongi was aware of him every second too.

He catch the younger’s glance and Jimin would offer a small awkward smile and Yoongi would nod and it would be like a confirmation of what they’d agreed to:

To not make a big deal out of it, to not lose each other, to play it off and exist how they had ––

Which somehow translated in both of them to distance.

Which wasn’t okay.

Yoongi didn’t like it. Hated it, actually.

Hated that when he turned the corner too fast, almost running directly into Jimin, the younger sprung back, muttering a flustered, “oh, hyung!” before quickly regaining their proximity and ducking away with that same weak smile.

“Are you guys okay?” Namjoon asked from where he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Yeah,” Yoongi brushed it off, completely ignoring Jin’s very pointed expression as he grabbed a cup of coffee and sat at the table.

“Did you fix it?” Jin muttered to him, looking over the rim of his cup.

“You don’t have to worry about it,” Yoongi said in answer.

“It doesn’t seem fixed,” Jin accused.

“We talked,” Yoongi said.

“Maybe you should talk some more,” Jin raised a brow.

Yoongi took a deep breath and focused on his coffee.

“You hurt him and I’ll hurt you,” Jin warned behind his coffee cup, brow still arched.

“Feeling the love, Hyung,” Yoongi scoffed back.

“I love all my children equally,” Jin jutted out his chin. “But don’t you dare hurt my Jimin.”

“I’m trying,” Yoongi assured, “I’m really, really trying.”

Jin must have sensed the seriousness in Yoongi’s tone, because he dropped the joke in his. “You’re not alone in this, Yoongi,” Jin nudged him. “You have five brothers who would do anything for you two. We’re here. You just have to talk to us.”

Yoongi stared intently into his cup of coffee. “This is a bit more complicated than that.”

“I think you’re just making it more complicated than it needs to be,” Jin said with a shrug.

But it felt really complicated. 

Felt really complicated in how it kinda felt like someone had set him on fire every single time they would accidentally brush against each other. 


Jimin couldn’t sleep.

They got on a plane the next day, ready to tour and perform, and do all of the things that usually made Jimin’s blood boil with excitement and anxiousness and none of that was why he couldn’t sleep.

He couldn’t sleep because of Yoongi.

He couldn’t sleep because there were way too many memories to reprocess.

And the thing was, he was stuck on one in particular. 

Their second time hooking up, to be exact.

When Yoongi had said … things. Things about Jimin reminding him of someone –– his coworker, as he’d said — someone that he really liked… someone who would call him Hyung.

I call him Hyung, Jimin thought tiredly as he stared up at his ceiling.

Was Jimin just being ridiculous? 

A coworker?

He supposed Yoongi could be talking about any other idol –– the thought made Jimin frown, pity welling up in his chest until he pushed it away –– because there was the way that he’d said it. The 'I care about him' he’d said after. Was it possible Yoongi was talking about him? That Yoongi actually had —

In the dead of night Jimin clapped his hand over his mouth and sat up.

Because Jimin remembered everything that had happened between him and the Masked Not-So-Stranger and he distinctly remembered the night after his fight with Yoongi when he and Yoongi had had sex. And… yeah, Jimin was kinda aware that they’d both been angry at each other when they’d did that –– but Yoongi had admitted to getting in a fight with the guy Jimin reminded him of! The guy that he had a crush on. And that was right after their fight!

And ––

Oh my god, Yoongi has a crush on me.

Jimin sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. And then immediately flopped out of bed and stumbled to Taehyung’s.

“Taehyung, Taehyung,” he shook his arm, kneeling down on the ground, resting his chin on the mattress.

“Hmm,” Taehyung blinked into consciousness, disoriented as he looked at Jimin. “Hm?” He grumbled, voice deep.

Jimin bit his lip to keep his smile down. “Taehyung,” he whispered into the night. “I think Yoongi likes me back.”

“Yoongi’s not gay, Chim,” Taehyung reached out, hand patting Jimin’s head. 

Jimin laughed softly. “But what if he is, Tae?”

The boy in question blinked tiredly at him a couple times. “Then, congratulations,” his eyes blinked closed, his breathing evening out once more, hand falling from Jimin’s head.

Jimin laughed at his friend, returning Taehyung’s hand to his side before returning to his own bed, doubtful the younger would even remember that come morning.

He sat criss-cross, staring down into his lap. What did he do with this information? What did it mean?

Jimin’s smile slipped from his face as he started worrying his lip.

What did it mean?

What did Yoongi’s behavior since then mean?

He said it was just sex. He’d also freaked out. 

Jimin laid back down, staring up again at the ceiling and breathing out a heavy sigh. Could he even act on it? 

Yoongi had approached Jimin because he looked enough like himself that Yoongi wanted to sleep with him –– was Jimin reading that right? Was that why Yoongi felt so guilty? Why he thought Jimin would hate him?

Jimin let out a stuttered breath into the night.

Did Yoongi still like him?

If he did, what did that change? What could it change?


“Hyung,” Jimin shifted in his seat on the airplane. “Can we talk?”

Namjoon peeked up at him from his book, closing it when he saw Jimin’s serious expression. “Yeah, of course, Minnie.”

Jimin worried his lip. “It’s kind of a secret,” Jimin glanced around, but all the other members were spread out enough that they wouldn’t hear what he was going to say. He cast another careful glance to where Yoongi was sitting, sound asleep with his head on Hoseok’s shoulder, the boy also asleep with his head against Yoongi’s.


“I won’t tell,” Namjoon assured. “You can tell me anything, Chim.”

Jimin nodded, trying to carefully pick the words before he spoke. “So,” he ruffled his own hair. “The wrist thing,” he started.

Namjoon pursed his lips, giving a nod of acknowledgement.

“So,” Jimin started, “I may have met someone.”

“Yeah?" Namjoon prodded. “And she bit you?”

“Uh,” Jimin flushed, ruffling his hair more. “Yeah.”

“No judgement,” Namjoon smiled as he put his hands up in the air.

Jimin nodded, feeling his insides twist in nervousness. “So, the - the thing is,” he waved out his hand, “we started seeing each other a couple months ago, but it wasn’t romantic or anything like that,” Jimin rushed out, feeling embarrassed even without telling the full truth. 

“It was just sex,” Namjoon said for him.

“Yes,” Jimin nodded. “But the- the, uh, thing is, I uh –– I didn’t really know who they were at the time. And it turns out they’re also an idol,” Jimin decided on saying.

Namjoon’s brow raised. “Like an idol we know? Do I know them?”

“Yeah, you know them,” Jimin pursed his lips.

“Who is it?” Namjoon sat up.

“I can’t say,” Jimin blurted out. “I, uh, don’t want to either so please don’t make me.”

Namjoon put his hands up in surrender. “Okay. You don’t have to say.”

Jimin bit his bottom lip. “Well, she ended up being an idol and I ended up really liking her and I kinda recently may have learned that he- she,” Jimin jumped at his own error, “may also like me back.” He swallowed. “But we’re idols,” Jimin said. “And doing anything could be really hazardous to our careers, you know.”

“Jimin,” Namjoon started, “Idols date all the time. You’ve dated before,” he added on. “You’d have to hide it, but that’s just expected by now.”

“It’s different,” Jimin assured, struggling to come up with a scenario that could actually explain how he felt. 

“How is it different?” 

“I think I love… them,” he ended up saying. “I think I’m in love with them.”

Namjoon blinked at him. “Chim, why haven’t you talked about her before if she means so much to you?”

“Because we’re not — we can’t be together,” he could feel himself tearing up. “It’s not like a normal dating relationship. If people found out, Hyung, it would ruin both of our careers.”

Namjoon’s brow furrowed.

“And it could hurt you guys too, you know, for being associated with me.” He stuck his hands between his legs.

Namjoon looked out in front of him, worrying his own lip before he nodded. “You’ve been weird lately, Jimin, you know that?”

Jimin looked at him with widened eyes.

“For a couple months actually,” Namjoon leaned forward to face him better.


He nodded. “You said you’ve been seeing this person for two months?”

Jimin nodded.

“And it’s not like other dating relationships?”

Dread was welling up in his throat. “Yeah,” he supplied weakly.

“Okay,” Namjoon was nodding. “Okay, Jimin, I think I understand.” He placed a hand on Jimin’s knee. 

“You do?” Tears were already welling and he was dropping his head to try and keep it hidden.

“It’s going to be okay, Jimin,” Namjoon squeezed assuringly.

Jimin hiccuped over his tears. “That’s, um ––“ Jimin didn’t want to talk about it. “That’s not –– What do I do about this person? I really like them, Namjoon. So, so much,” Jimin felt kinda breathless as he admitted it.

“Do they know?” Namjoon asked. "That you like them?"

Jimin shook his head. “I haven’t told them. I don’t want to ruin anything, you know.”

“Tell them,” Namjoon nodded, assured. 

Jimin looked up at him.

“No matter what happens, we’ll stand behind you,” Joon rubbed Jimin’s knee comfortingly. “You’ll have to keep it hidden, though, just like any of us would.”

“I’m okay with that,” Jimin nodded.

“And I hope you’ll tell us more about this person soon. All of us.”

Jimin nodded, fresh tears welling up. “But what if it changes everything?”

“You’ll still have us.”


“I swear it,” he said.

“Even if it’s someone you hate?”

“I’ll try to like them.”

“Even if it’s someone you know? A friend of yours?” Jimin pressed.

Namjoon furrowed his brow and Jimin could tell he was trying to figure out who. “I guess that’s fine. You’re an adult, Chim.”

“You’re really okay with this?”

“Do they make you happy?” Namjoon titled his head.

“So very much,” Jimin sighed.

“I want to meet them,” Namjoon smiled, nudging Jimin. “And if they hurt you, I’ll kill them, okay?”

Jimin managed a laugh, the tears still swimming as he fell against Namjoon’s shoulder, partially to hide his tears, partially because he really needed to laugh, but mostly it was because it was Namjoon and Namjoon was safe.

“Thank you, Hyung,” Jimin stayed where his head rested, reaching up to wipe away his tears.

“Of course, Jimin-ah.” Namjoon reached to wrap his arm around Jimin, who shifted to accompany it. “Tell us soon. Please.”

“I’ll try,” Jimin said.


“Hyung, can we talk?”

Yoongi halted where he was walking, suitcase in tow, to peer over at Namjoon as he walked beside him, exiting the airport. 

“In the car?” Namjoon nodded.

“Sure,” Yoongi said, brow furrowing at the almost sympathetic tone Namjoon was facing him with.

By the time they got into the car, baggage loaded into the back of the vehicle, Yoongi was sitting in the back, expectant as Namjoon shuffled next to him.

“Yeah?” He said as Joon settled next to him.

Namjoon took a deep breath. “I just thought I should warn you of something.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi pressed, beginning to grow anxious.

“I know you took Jimin being with someone kind of hard, you know, with the wrist thing––.”

Yoongi groaned, falling until his head hit the window. So Namjoon also thought he had a fit over Jimin being with another person when that was so not what had happened that it hurt. “That’s not ––.”

“It’s okay, Hyung,” Namjoon assured, leaning in to whisper, “I’ve kinda suspected that you had feelings for Jimin for awhile. You’re not the most subtle about it.”

Yoongi made an incredulous sound. “Joon, that is so not ––.”

“Hyung, please,” Namjoon tried. “I need to tell you something.”

Yoongi closed his mouth to let the younger speak. 

He took a deep breath. “I just want to give you a warning before it comes out later.”

Yoongi furrowed his brow.

“Jimin really likes somebody, Hyung.”

Confusion flooded his system just a second before he just stopped breathing all together to regard Namjoon and, “What?

“He told me,” Namjoon whispered. “And it’s not my place to tell you more than that, but I know this is going to hurt you, so I wanted to give you the chance to get over it before Jimin tells us about it so that ––.”

“Who?” Yoongi said. Because who could the younger possibly ––?

Namjoon shrugged. “I don’t actually know. Jimin wants to keep it a secret for a bit longer. But I guess that person who Jimin slept with, the one who bit him,” Namjoon let out a small, awkward laugh, “guess it’s a lot more than sex to Jimin.”

Yoongi one hundred percent lost the ability to breathe. “What?” He managed, barely whispered.

Namjoon nodded, pursing his lips as he reached to pat Yoongi on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Hyung.”

Yoongi tried to swallow, but it wasn’t really working and that - that couldn’t be right. That –– “Jimin’s – Jimin’s likes somebody?”

Namjoon nodded. “That’s what he said.”

“With the—,” Yoongi waved his finger, “With the person who left those bruises? That person?”

Namjoon nodded. “Apparently they’ve been messing around for a couple months now,” Joon ruffled his hair nervously. “And Jimin’s realized that he really likes this person, so… yeah. I’m sorry, Hyung.”

“Jimin used the word like? Did he mean it the way you’re implying? You’re sure?” Yoongi asked.

Namjoon furrowed his brow at him. “Yoongi, I get that this is hard to accept, but you can’t be upset with Jimin for falling for someone else.”

“I’m not,” Yoongi said, turning his gaze as he stared at the back of the seat in front of him in shock. “I’m not upset with him. I’m just confused.” Yoongi pressed his fingers to his lips. “Did he — did he say anything else about them?” Yoongi turned to Namjoon.

“That’s all I can tell you, Hyung. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Peachy,” Yoongi turned away.


They checked into a hotel as the night was beginning to steal over the horizon, and Yoongi felt incredibly out of it. His mind was still reeling, still trying to process –– still doubting. Because that couldn’t be right. What had Jimin told Namjoon? It obviously wasn’t enough for Namjoon to think it was Yoongi, so maybe it wasn’t? But Yoongi had left the bruises. And, unless Jimin had been sneaking around even more (and Yoongi could not come up with where he’d get that time) he was also the person Jimin had been “messing around” with.

Did Jimin like him?

He got the younger’s gaze as they stood in the lobby. Jimin offered his small, awkward smile and Yoongi couldn’t even force one back because, was it really possible?

“Pick a number,” the manager held out the cap holding seven folded pieces of paper. “Whoever draws out number four gets their own room.”

The cap was passed and Yoongi drew one.

“Who’s got number one?” Their manager asked as Taehyung and Jimin raised their hands. “Great. You two room together for tonight. How about number two?”

Yoongi looked down at his, scoffing a small laugh.

“Lucky,” Jin nudged him. “I wanted to get my own room tonight,” he sighed.

“Maybe next time,” Yoongi said.

They ate dinner together that night, their concert wasn’t until later in the evening the next day, but the morning would be filled with preparations for it. One night of peace and rest was going to be much appreciated. Jimin looked cute in his oversized wool sweater, cute as he leaned against Taehyung, lazily pushing food into his mouth.

Did Jimin like him?

“Uh, earth to Yoongi-Hyung,” Jungkook snapped in front of his face.

“Huh, what?” Yoongi turned to him.

“You were zoned out, Hyung, staring at Jimin-Hyung.”

Yoongi jolted at being called out. Whipping to look at Jimin who was staring at him with widened eyes too. Yoongi ducked away, face flushing before he could even gouge the younger’s reaction.

“I wasn’t staring at Jimin,” he mumbled. “I was staring at the picture behind him.”

Six heads turned to face the painting, before looking at Yoongi with varying levels of confusion.

Jin cleared his throat. “You guys good to perform tomorrow?” 

“I hate the night before concerts,” Jungkook leaned back until he fell to the ground. “I just want it to start already, you know?”

Agreements followed, but Yoongi was just trying really hard not to stare at Jimin again –– struggling to ignore the heat tightening in his chest.

That night was quiet, alone in the hotel room, the city fluttering by under the window of their hotel in Kyoto. They had five locations in the country, five cities they would perform in. Yoongi just wished he could actually make his brain stop thinking about all of this until the tour was over.

But he couldn’t.

Especially now.

Yoongi couldn’t even remember the last time he was sleeping in a bed without anybody else in the room. 

Yoongi pushed his hand past the waistband of his own pants, wrapping his fingers around himself and took a deep breath.

This was probably wrong. But it couldn’t be any more wrong than what he’d already done.

There were too many memories to pull from, so Yoongi found himself combining the interactions, taking every piece that fluttered through his mind and going over it. Only, this time, Jimin wasn’t wearing a mask. Only this time, neither was he.

Yoongi hardened in his hand with thought of Jimin’s lips wrapped around him, almost ruining the mood by snorting when he recalled the younger’s pouted, “This is hard,” as Yoongi ‘taught’  Jimin. It was too easy to go back to the night after they fought, with Jimin almost bent off the bed, holding Yoongi’s hand against his throat –– the way he breathed, the way he sounded –– how each of his moans would cut off with a sharp sound when Yoongi thrusted in. It was too easy to imagine when imagining was just remembering.

Yoongi sat up as his release struck him, his own gruff cry sounding out into the room as he worked himself through it, collapsing back down as his breath heaved under the city lights twinkling in through the window.

Did Jimin ever do that thinking of him?


Light checks, sound checks, outfits, make-up –– the day of their first concert was a busy mess of people and orders and things to do. The members danced around each other and everything else, poking fun and keeping things light despite the heavy air of nervousness that made each of them more jumpy and on edge.

It was easy in those moments for Jimin to pretend that everything was as it should be. Watching Yoongi laugh at Jin who was using Taehyung to support him as he leaned back as much as he could. Watching Namjoon staring at them at a distance was if regretting every single life choice, hearing Hoseok’s obnoxious laughter and watching Jungkook trying to catch Jin’s feet to off balance the older. It was easy to pretend until he would find himself glancing over at Yoongi only to see the older looking back at him, and he was losing the ability to breathe.

Jimin tried to offer a smile, a we’re okay smile, but he was kinda lost in the way Yoongi was looking at him, so he wasn’t sure how it came across.

Yoongi looked away, a soft look on his face as he called out at Jin when the older almost fell over.

We could be okay, Jimin realized, taking a step back from everybody. We could be okay and we could pretend and every thing could be fine. But Jimin didn’t want it to be fine. He wanted to know what it was like to try. Jimin wanted to try.

He looked back and Namjoon. He said Jimin should try, but he didn’t know… didn’t know it would be with Yoongi.

Would he still tell Jimin to try if he did?


Concert lights were bright and the crowd stretched out in front of them. Jimin was exhilarated, could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his bloodstream after their last song, the sweat threatening to smear his make up but he could hardly care. Only the rappers were left on the stage as Jimin stood to the side, performing their own song, as the rest of the members watched on just out of sight, the make-up artists fluttering around them to make sure everything was in place.

Yoongi was unearthly on the stage, flawless in how he walked around the platform of the stage like he owned it, like everything around it was his, head bobbing to the beat as he planted his foot up on a ledge to force his whole chest into delivering his series of lines. Perspiration matted his fringe down, his teeth tugging at his lip as Namjoon took over the next part. His chest heaved, eyes dancing with life and Jimin ––

Jimin was so, so, so in love with that man.

Yoongi’s head fell back, his throat bobbing as he turned, catching Jimin’s eye. And that idiot had the audacity to smirk at him. Yoongi’s glance turned back to the crowd, looking as at home as Jimin had ever seen him. 

Yoongi didn’t know how he felt.

Jimin really, really wanted to tell him.


“Jimin-ah?” Yoongi straightened, wincing at the tiredness his muscles as he caught sight of Jimin in the doorframe. The younger had already changed, dressing down from the tight pants and flowy white shirts to a t-shirt and sweats, face wiped clean of make-up. Jimin looked soft like this, human like this. The younger twisting his foot against the carpet as he waited in the door way, frowning at the ground. Perfect like this, Yoongi thought.

“Hey, Hyung,” Jimin said then, glancing over to where Namjoon and Hoseok were still flitting around the same room, packing up the last few belongings, exhaustion weighting their movements as they prepared to go back to their hotel to pass out.

Both Namjoon and Hoseok glanced up at the call, but, realizing it wasn’t meant for them, went back to what they were doing.

Yoongi gave Jimin a look that hopefully said is every thing okay?

Jimin sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. He didn’t look so much worried as he looked anxious. He nodded his head over his shoulder and Yoongi was stepping away from his belongings to step after the boy, the younger pushing up from the doorframe to lead down the hall two doors down.

Jimin pressed into the room, glancing around as Yoongi held the door open to step through. 

“Is everything okay, Jimin?” Yoongi followed him in. It was a small room, one for make-up that had already been cleaned out by the make-up artists. Jimin leaned around Yoongi to close the door, clicking the lock in place.

Yoongi’s brow furrowed immediately. “Jimin?” He inquired.

Jimin took a deep breath, stepping back, giving space between them. The breath sounded stuttered as Jimin started to twist his fingers together, teeth biting against his bottom lip again. “I realized something the other night,” Jimin looked up to him, gaze light and hopeful? Was Yoongi reading that right?

“Yeah?” Yoongi prodded.

“Do you remember when we met up the second time?” Jimin smiled embarrassedly, dropping his head.

“Yeah?” Yoongi felt a little unsure by that.

“Do you remember what you said?”

Yoongi sunk his teeth into his own lip, feeling very unsure about everything. “I think, yeah,” Yoongi’s voice sounded breathless even to him.

“Hyung, can I ask a favor?” Jimin looked up then, fingers twisted and tugging together. He had a mischievous glint in his eye, the one Yoongi was very cautious of, but was also very into if he was being honest.

“Anything,” he said simply, his and Namjoon’s conversation fleeting in the back of his mind.

“Close your eyes,” Jimin’s teeth tugged at his bottom lip. 

“Why?” Yoongi’s eyes darted to Jimin’s lip, which was still being worried under the younger’s teeth.

Yoongi reached out, thumb resting on plump flesh of Jimin’s bottom lip as he pulled it out from Jimin’s teeth’s hold. “Stop biting your lip like that.” Yoongi was suddenly very aware of how close they were. 

“I want to try something,” Jimin answered his previous question, swallowing thickly.

“What did you realize, Jimin?” Yoongi pressed, thumb lingering against the younger’s chin.

“You said I reminded you of someone,” Jimin said, barely whispered into the space in front of them. “That’s why you came up to me. I suppose I just was thinking,” he looked down, maybe a little unsure. “That there’s no one who looks as much like me as me and I was wondering—” 

"Yes," Yoongi interrupted, admitted. He wasn't even sure what he was saying yes to. There hadn't really been a question. Maybe it was just to everything, to Jimin -- to anything the boy could've asked. Yes, I approached you that night because you looked like you; yes, I did that because I like you; yes, I'm in love with you actually.

Jimin looked up and met Yoongi’s gaze and everything seemed to come to a stuttering halt.

Jimin moved first. Yoongi felt the heat of Jimin’s skin as the younger leaned in closer. Hands grasped around Yoongi’s neck, pulling him in and Yoongi just barely braced his grip against Jimin’s sides when the younger was colliding their lips, hands snaking to hold Yoongi’s jaw to bring him in closer, space disappearing between their bodies.

Jimin felt exactly how he remembered, tasted the same too. Yoongi parted his lips and moved in closer, holding Jimin’s top lip between both of his. Jimin’s thumbs brushed the skin just under Yoongi’s eyes. 

Yoongi pulled back then, pulse stuttering in his chest as he tried to catch his breath, grip tight on Jimin’s sides, but holding him at a distance because Yoongi couldn’t breathe. 

“It wasn’t just sex,” Jimin said, shaking his head. “You said it was just sex. But it wasn't. It was supposed to be,” he added, catching Yoongi’s gaze, “but it ended up being you so it wasn’t just sex. Nothing with you is just anything.”

Yoongi looked up to meet his gaze. “We can’t,” he whispered in-between them, looking up to meet Jimin’s gaze, dark and maybe a little lost.

Namjoon said Jimin liked him. Namjoon said that and, yeah, okay, maybe it was true. But it couldn’t be enough. Yoongi had been there when he shouldn’t have and they’d slept together and maybe now Jimin liked him, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough when Yoongi was in love and Jimin could just be confused or curious.

“Hyung —,” Jimin tried.

“We can’t,” Yoongi repeated, shaking his head. “We can’t just mess around like this.”

“You’re so frustrating,” Jimin called out then, hands holding to the sides of Yoongi’s face. “Stop assuming how I feel and just ask me. I’m not messing around.”

“What are you trying to say?” Yoongi reached to hold Jimin’s hands in place. 

“I’m trying to say,” Jimin hesitated, gaze tracing over Yoongi’s face. “I’m trying to say that I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Someone could’ve hit Yoongi in the chest with a hammer and it probably wouldn’t have almost knocked him off his feet so hard, wouldn’t have left shock busting through his veins like it was, a heat rushing to his ears. 

Yoongi held to the younger’s wrist, fingers brushing over skin. “Since when?” He asked.

Jimin’s brow furrowed. “Does that really matter?”

“Please,” Yoongi breathed. “When?”

“That night you helped me to bed,” Jimin titled his head, looking aside as he flushed bright over his cheeks. “I realized then. You know, when you helped me out of my clothes and wiped off my make-up. I had a dream that night that you told me you loved me. And I woke up wishing it was true.” He met Yoongi’s gaze then. “Why does it matter?”

“You may think you’re falling in love with me,” Yoongi took a deep breath. “But I know that I am head over heels, absolutely, one hundred percent in love with you. And I have been for years.”

Jimin met his gaze with wide eyes.

“It was never just sex. That’s why this is my fault,” Yoongi closed his eyes against the feel of Jimin’s comforting touch, fingers brushing over his cheeks. “I went there that night because I was scared that if I didn’t do something, I’d accidentally confess to you and ruin everything. I went there looking for someone that I could pretend with and that’s so fucked up and I’m so sorry. And that’s why it’s my fault that this happened.” Yoongi opened his eyes, “And I’m so sorry.”

Jimin’s hands moved to the back of Yoongi’s head, tangling in the locks as all space between their bodies closed off and Jimin was kissing him again.

Jimin’s mouth was hot and wet, lips perfect where they formed over Yoongi’s sucking his bottom lip in only to release it with a sharp sound before he was moving back against Yoongi, against his mouth, grasp desperate in the locks of his hair. Yoongi’s spine was hitting the wall, Jimin’s chest flush against him and the younger was so warm, always so warm. 

Jimin broke away to gasp for air, lips brushing against Yoongi’s pulse point as he rested his head to Yoongi’s shoulder, arms wrapping tight around the older. Yoongi held him back, swollen lips pressing to the top of the younger’s head. 

A sharp knock on the door had both of them springing apart.

“Yoongi, Jimin?” It was Jin. “You guys in there.”

“I am,” Yoongi blurted out, holding up a finger to shush Jimin, his heart pounding at the sudden interruption and the threat of being caught. “I think Jimin went to the bathroom. You should go get him.” Yoongi reached out to brush the younger’s hair down as the footsteps sounded away.

“We should,” Jimin bit at his lip, nodding towards the door.

Yoongi nodded. “Yeah.”


“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Jimin found himself muttering as Yoongi sat next to him in the car, bright lights from billboards and traffic dancing through the window over Yoongi’s skin.

Yoongi looked to him.

“That we love each other. That we’re in love.” Jimin fiddled with his hands in his lap. “We still have to think of our careers. Of BTS. Of everything except that, don’t we.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi took a deep breath, looking around at the exhausted members in question. “Yeah, we have to think of the others.”

“So, we can’t,” Jimin said slowly, each word seeming to take effort, “be together.”

“We’re already together all the time,” Yoongi tried. “It’s not like it would be much different.”

“I can’t kiss you just because I want to, can I?” Jimin turned his gaze to look at Yoongi, a sigh deflating his chest. “We can’t act any differently around each other, or-or sleep together again, or be together. We can’t be together.”

Yoongi looked over him carefully. “Do you want to be together?”

“Of course I do,” Jimin deflated further. “Don’t you?”

Yoongi nodded. “Of course.”

“But we can’t,” Jimin seemed to assure, looking down again.

“Not right now anyway,” Yoongi added.

Jimin looked up at him. “Maybe someday?”

“Maybe someday.”

A small smile pulled at Jimin’s features. “This is going to be so hard,” he sighed. “Self control is hard,” he complained.

Yoongi managed a small laugh. “Very hard.”

“Should I not have kissed you?” Jimin cringed as he looked up to ask him.

“Maybe not,” Yoongi shrugged. “But I’m really glad you did.”

“Yeah?” That same small smile pulled over his features as Jimin leaned back to look at Yoongi.

Yoongi nodded.

“What do we do now?” Jimin asked.

“Maybe some caution,” Yoongi suggested, still in a whisper. “Until we figure all of this out. Find our new normal. Nothing huge, just caution.”

“I can do that,” Jimin sighed. 

“And, Jimin,” Yoongi nudged his arm. “It does matter.”

“Hm?” Jimin sat up to tilt his head.

“You told me you’re falling in love with me,” Yoongi smiled into the night, turning his body completely towards Jimin as he rested his head to the seat. “That matters. That means everything.”

Jimin reached in the space between him to trace his fingers over Yoongi’s arm, scooting closer until he could breathe in the older’s scent, Yoongi shifting to accompany Jimin’s movements until the boy’s head was resting on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” Jimin pressed. “Can this be part of our new normal?”

“I don’t see a problem with it,” Yoongi slipped his hand over Jimin’s, pushing fingers between his. And maybe that shouldn’t be.

But Yoongi had never really been great at that whole ‘self-control’ thing.

Chapter Text

Instead of flying from Kyoto to Osaka for their next concert, the boys all packed into a nice bus to make the trip, equipment and crew following separately. In a way, it was nice — almost felt like a road trip to Jimin, kinda how things used to feel before the fame really began to hit them. The highway rushed past as the turned onto the interstate and Jimin skipped a song playing through his headphones, letting his gaze drift.

To say Jimin had wanted to sit by Yoongi would be a gigantic understatement. As they were all piling in, the desire was so twisted into his motivations that he was trying to position himself just so, trying to time the simple action of ‘getting on the bus’ perfectly so that he could casually slide in next to Yoongi without it having to mean a single thing.

Realizing how childish he was being, Jimin made himself sit in the row behind the boy, feeling Hoseok slide in next to him with an excited noise that didn’t truly constitute as any language. Things had been easy at first, with Hoseok talking, and then Tae behind him, and then Jin yelling at them to be quiet for like five seconds while Namjoon flipped through a book where he sat by Yoongi, who seemed dead to the world outside whatever was playing through his headphones.

But the noise and excitement had swiftly died down as Jimin found himself leaning against the window, feeling the lurch and tug of the vehicle they sat in.

Ahead, Yoongi had turned in his seat, back to the wall, the back of his head resting on a pillow pressed against the window as he slouched, his seatbelt twisted carelessly around him.  

From this position, Jimin could stare at him without getting caught, could let his gaze drift over the soft skin, the subtle slop from his forehead to his nose, the darkness hidden behind his eyelashes — just Yoongi — Jimin could let his gaze fall on Yoongi and not have to really worry, because if anyone pointed it out, he could say he zoned out staring at the seat and unless Yoongi turned his head, he wouldn’t even be able to catch Jimin.

It was nice to pretend for a moment that Jimin could actually have him.

It had been two days since Jimin had kissed Yoongi. Which, he didn’t regret necessarily –– he wasn’t sure he was capable of regretting it –– but just like all their other encounters, there was something undeniably misplaced about it. Like it wasn’t real, somehow. Like even though Jimin had kissed him and he’d kissed back, it was like a what if playing out in reality rather than anything Jimin could actually hold onto.

It matters, Yoongi had said. And it felt like it mattered. But it also felt like it couldn’t matter just yet.

Yoongi’s ‘someday’ was echoing in his mind and Jimin wanted to believe. Wanted to hold onto it and be patient, wait it out, do it right. But someday was so vague, so easily lost, because how long was that supposed to be? After they were done being idols? Once they got successful enough to have such a career altering thing maybe someday slip? 

Jimin was, a) sure he lacked the patience and/or self control to wait that long in either case, and b) terrified of what waiting could mean. What if the time came when they could be together, but neither of them wanted it anymore? What if only one of them didn’t want it anymore?

Jimin sunk his teeth into his lip until he thought it might bleed. Why did this have to be so hard?

It was complicated in way that Jimin could actually feel. As if this hole situation was a string that had knotted itself in his chest, around his organs with no way to detangle it without tugging on something — hurting something — probably breaking something. Because Yoongi was beautiful and everything Jimin wanted and so incredibly hot and good in bed, and tasted like winter and fit perfectly against him, and a million other things Jimin could list off in his head, but ––

Yoongi was also his Hyung. Yoongi was also his bandmate. His friend. One of his partners in life. Something his career was dependent on. Someone who he’d lived with for years and in some ways felt closer than a brother to him.

Yoongi wasn’t just Yoongi.

He wasn’t some guy Jimin was chanced into meeting, nor was he some idol Jimin would risk sneaking around with in-between shows. Because losing Yoongi in this was terrifying to consider but still a very present thought.

Because what they’d had for years was simple and effortless.

But this was strange and foreign and … complicated. 

Jimin understood what Yoongi had insisted after first revealing himself to Jimin. He understood that even though the older was harboring feelings that he’d already kinda let slip, that wasn’t the first thing on his radar.

Jimin remembered Yoongi’s desperation in his ‘don’t leave’’s, and ‘I can’t lose you’’s. He understood the insistence of it was just sex and we’re going to get through this. Because that had been the most important thing.

It would always be the most important thing.

To keep the group together, yes. But also to keep them together.

Jimin couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done the right thing by telling Yoongi that he liked him back. Because it killed a part of their pretending. They couldn’t pretend like their feelings were a little messed up because of what happened, couldn’t pretend that the other didn’t feel the same way so it didn’t matter — and Jimin was terrified that pretending was the only way to keep them together.

Finding their new normal — that’s what Yoongi had called it. But it really just felt like trying to fit a bigger them into the older, smaller mold that just couldn’t fit it all anymore. Pieces had to be left out if they were to conform back into what they were supposed to be.

And both of them were failing miserably.

Yoongi turned then, catching Jimin’s shocked gaze with a suspicious one of his own. “We’re you watching me?”

“N-no,” Jimin huffed out, wiping the shock away as he crossed his arms. “I just zoned out.”

A faint smile pulled over Yoongi’s lips, one that he was quick to bite down. “I’ve felt your gaze on me for a while, Chim-ah. What were you thinking about to zone out for so long?” He tilted his head in his soft tease, but Jimin wasn’t in the mood for teasing.

“You,” he said seriously, maybe a little sad as he tugged his lip back between his teeth. “Us.”

Yoongi pushed himself up, casting a cautious glance to make sure no one was really looking or paying attention before he rested his chin on the back of his seat to face Jimin. “You wanna talk about it?”

Because talking was another thing they’d decided they needed to get better at to make this work. Communication and whatnot.

“I miss you,” Jimin said, only half knowing what he himself meant as he said it. Because it was stupid. It was so stupid. Yoongi was literally right there. But Jimin couldn’t have him, couldn’t kiss him like he had, like he wanted to, couldn’t hold him and love him and be with him — and it was so stupid and childish because there were so many things in their lives to focus on, to pay attention to, and it shouldn’t be this hard to ignore this one thing.

“I’m right here,” Yoongi said, understanding in his tone.

“I know,” Jimin smiled softly. How did he say that he wished they could go back to how they were? That he wished he could be around Yoongi without feeling scared, without feeling sad — without being terrified that someone would know, while also distraught that he had to restrain himself, had to keep himself away from something that was literally right in front of him and so fucking perfect. He wanted to go back to how they were, butt he didn’t want to lose what they’d gained either…

“I just,” Jimin admitted, keeping his voice low to hide it from the others, “wish we’d done this differently is all,” Jimin nodded. “I feel like it would be easier. Like we wouldn’t have to be pulling back so much.”

“I know,” Yoongi nodded.

The older was shifting in his seat, arm finding its way between the space of the car wall and the actual seat, reaching back, fingers extended towards Jimin. Jimin took the hand offered to him, resting his head to the wall nearer to Yoongi as Jimin leaned forward in his seat, carefully tracing patterns over the older’s skin.

Yoongi omitted a low chuckle. “I like holding your hand,” he gave a reassuring squeeze.

“Is this part of our new normal?” Jimin asked.

“I hold hands with the other members,” Yoongi insisted through a slight pout.

Jimin pressed their palms together, measuring his size against Yoongi’s. He pressed each finger against Yoongi’s to make the older’s move in turn. “And it feels like this?” He asked carefully.

Yoongi blinked at him from under his fringe. “Nothing feels like this.”

Jimin interlocked their hands, casting a glance at Hoseok to make sure he was as asleep as he’d been the last time Jimin had checked and pressed a kiss to the back of Yoongi’s hand, smiling against the soft gasp Yoongi made as Jimin leaned back in his own seat, fingers still connected with the older’s in front of him.


“Hyung?” Jungkook touched the side of Jimin’s head to get the older to turn to look at him.

“Yeah?” Jimin offered him a small smile from where he had been reading his own book, careful to space himself as to not get carsick.

“Why are you holding Yoongi-hyung’s hand?”

Jimin’s grip tensed where it rested in his own knee, which he’d propped up against the back of Yoongi’s seat to rest their still intertwined hands on. In the seat in front of him, Yoongi had almost completely turned towards Jimin, face resting against the seat's fabric as his legs curled up to press him into a small ball on the stretch of seat belonging to him, leaving space for Joon who hadn’t given a second look at the odd position.

Awhile ago, the older’s eyes had drifted closed, his breath evening out.

“You know how Yoongi is sometimes,” Jimin forced a small chuckle into his voice, hoping that was enough to excuse it.

“You guys have been weird lately,” Jungkook commented, sitting back.

Jimin worried his lip.

“Does this mean you made up?” He crossed his arms.

Jimin turned his head to look at the younger, catching a curious gaze from Jin, who almost reached to tug his headphones away, but never actually did.  “We were never fighting,” Jimin said. Except that one night, he supposed. But that was just one day. It barely lasted.

Jungkook made an incredulous sound, almost snorting if it wasn’t so fallen. “It sure seemed like you guys were. Everything’s been so tense lately,” Jungkook blinked up to catch Jimin’s gaze.

“I’m sorry, Kook-ah,” Jimin said softly, genuinely meaning it. “I didn’t realize.”

“If you weren’t fighting, why have you guys been so strange?” Jungkook’s brow furrowed at his own question.

“We just,” Jimin glanced back to his sleeping Hyung, “we weren’t communicating as we should’ve been.”

“But it’s okay now?” Jungkook asked, maybe a bit more hopeful than Jimin would’ve liked to hear, because had it really been that obvious? Were they already hurting their members?

“It will be,” Jimin assured with a smile. “Promise.”


Their next concert was worse on Yoongi than the first. Because their last concert was fine in the end because even though it was nearly impossible to not look at Jimin, to not think back to their nights together, at the end of the night, Yoongi had to shake it off because there was no reason to be thinking of such things when there was no way to have them again.

But then Jimin had kissed him and nothing had really changed, but everything felt like it could. Like they were standing right at the edge and Jimin was just looking at him, waiting for him to make them step back or step forward together. 

It honestly constantly felt like Jimin was looking at him with that gleam in his eye. The I’ll do it if you do it, and it was one hell of a temptation and one hell of an obstacle to work around.

Especially when Jimin hip thrusted upwards during their choreography, so close to Yoongi that the older almost lost his footing because memories were flitting behind his eyelids and he could only laugh it off to spare his sanity. 

It was impossible. Impossible knowing that if he reached out Jimin would reach back. That if he leaned in, he knew the younger would do so as well. But he couldn’t do it — none of it. Not even when they were off a stage in in their own space. Because Yoongi was the Hyung. He had to make the right calls here. The ones that protected both of them and everyone else.

And yeah, holding his hand in the car kinda felt perfect, kinda felt exactly like being home — which was not something Yoongi had spent the rest of his waking awareness dwelling on, no, not at all — sending an excitement pulsing through his gut. Kinda made him never want to let go… but that was it. That was the line in their ‘new normal.’ They couldn’t cross that line.

The concert was ending as the group of seven made their way through the undergrounds of the stage black to the dressing rooms with a time limit before they were expected back in the vehicles to return to their hotel (this time, Yoongi was rooming with Seokjin). As Yoongi tugged off tight leather pants to fit comfortable sweats on, everything should’ve been fine. Would’ve been fine too.

If not for Park Jimin.

Yoongi flopped down onto the couch just as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He wrenched it out and stared at the simple text. 

can i see you in the bathroom for a sec

Yoongi swallowed as he stared at the message, glancing around the room to find that all the other members were accounted for except Jimin. He looked back at his phone as he stood up, glancing around as he left the room in search of the nearest bathroom. An interesting mix of nervousness and concern twisted in his gut. Why did Jimin need him? Did he want to talk? Had Yoongi been staring to much? Was Jimin going to ask him to stop?

Was Jimin struggling with something?

Yoongi pushed open the door, stepping into the clean interior. The white tiled floor glinted against the harsh lighting. Jimin stood, leaning against the black wall of the stalls, arms crossed as he looked at Yoongi.

Yoongi cleared his throat. “Chim-ah?”

 It wasn’t fair that Jimin could still somehow look good even in this kind of lighting.

Jimin pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his chest —- his chest heaving as he looked nothing short of breathless.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi blinked at him, moving closer because the boy almost looked like he’d exhorted himself too much, like maybe he was catching a fever. Yoongi reached his palm to press it against Jimin’s forehead, the boys face flushed as he watched Yoongi’s every movement. Warm skin pressed under Yoongi’s palm, Jimin’s eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into the touch.

“‘m fine,” Jimin mumbled. “Just—.” The boy blinked his gaze back open, looked at Yoongi once more. His eyeliner still rimmed his eyes, the tint that had been applied to his lips slightly smeared from the concert as he looked straight into Yoongi’s eyes, gaze darting to his lips for just a moment. “I just,” Jimin repeated, “You looked really good out there,” he admitted breathlessly.

Yoongi’s hand fell from Jimin’s forehead down to cup against his cheek. “Jimin,” he muttered sadly.

“So good,” Jimin tilted his head to press his cheek against Yoongi’s palm, hand holding the older wrist to hold it in place. “So hot and — and stunning and I…” Jimin closed his eyes, cheeks tinting pink as he ducked his head.

“Jimin,” Yoongi repeated and the younger looked up. “We can’t.”

“But don’t you want to?” Jimin said then, eyes wide and tone almost whiny and they were so close, so, so close and Yoongi could feel Jimin’s soft skin pressed under his skin and he wanted to hold and have and kiss and everything else but he — they couldn’t.

“Of course I do,” Yoongi frowned with a sigh. “You looked good too. Always. You always look so good and I —. But we can’t,” Yoongi tried to insist.

“It’s nothing we haven’t done before,” Jimin said insistently. 

Yoongi flushed under that fact. “It’s different now,” he said.

“Why?” Jimin pressed.

“Cause we know now, we know it’s each other and there’s… feelings to work with now.”

“But we held hands,” Jimin pointed out, grip still firm where it held Yoongi’s wrist in place.

“I hold hands with the others,” Yoongi offered weakly again.

“But it doesn’t feel like it did,” Jimin repeated, pointed out.

“We have to be careful,” Yoongi insisted.

“Then let’s be careful,” Jimin nodded. “Can’t we pretend?” Jimin smiled then, but it was so sad, so broken — it made Yoongi’s chest ache to see and he found himself stepping closer, hand falling to Jimin’s hip, rubbing soothingly to offer comfort and support and a I know this is hard, but we have to do this. 

“Pretend?” Yoongi repeated.

“Yeah, pretend,” Jimin nodded. “That it’s not a big deal,” he shrugged. “Just for a little bit. We can pretend that it’s normal. That it doesn’t mean anything.”

Yoongi traced his thumb over the younger’s lip. “I can’t kiss you and have it not mean something, Jimin.”

“Then don’t kiss me,” Jimin said, teeth tugging back at his lip.

Before Yoongi could even ask him what that meant, Jimin was sliding down, back still pressed to the black wall of the bathroom stall as he came down onto his knees in front of Yoongi, glancing up as if to ask for permission.

Which could’ve been a lot easier to give if Yoongi hadn’t immediately lost the ability to breathe.

Jimin leaned forward, nose pressing against the fabric of Yoongi’s sweats, which poked Yoongi’s member with a soft touch. But that wasn’t even the most distracting thing about it. Because Jimin was close enough, lips parted, that even through the material of Yoongi’s sweats and his underwear he could feel the heat of Jimin’s breath and he was pretty sure he was dying as Jimin looked up at him, still waiting for that permission and…

“Shit,” Yoongi slid to his knees in front of the boy, coming face to face with him as Yoongi tried to regain his breathing, feeling himself hardening embarrassingly fast in his jeans. “Shit, Jimin,” he breathed, hands cupping the younger’s face as they were close, so fucking close.

Jimin’s lips were still parted, still waiting, and Yoongi wanted to suck them in, wanted to hold them between his own forever, head instinctively inclining as if ready to do just that. Yoongi met Jimin’s gaze.

If they were going to pretend it was nothing, Yoongi couldn’t kiss Jimin like his life depended on it and Yoongi could think of no way else he could possible kiss the younger in that moment. He leaned his head forward forehead resting against Jimin’s as he said, “Okay. Okay, but not,” Yoongi pulled back, looking over his shoulder at the door — the door that could literally swing open at any moment. “Not here.”

“There’s nowhere else, Hyung,” Jimin said.

“Stall,” Yoongi said, trying to push himself up, but finding his legs impossibly wobbly.

Jimin’s laughter hit Yoongi like a freight train, all airy and giggly as he held Yoongi’s arm as if to help him make it to the biggest stall. “You okay, Hyung?”

“I’ll never be okay again,” Yoongi said as he tugged Jimin into the stall, closing the door and clicking the lock into place as he turned back to the younger. 

Jimin slid to his knees once more, Yoongi’s back hitting the wall in their enclosed space as Jimin’s fingers wrapped to the hem of Yoongi’s sweats, the boys lips already coming to Yoongi’s groin, mouthing against the fabric of Yoongi’s cock, all the while, Jimin held his eye contact.

There was no mask this time.

Which shouldn’t have really made that drastic of a change, but it did.

Any confidence and bravado Yoongi had worn easily with the supposed stranger was flattened under Jimin’s gaze. Because it was Jimin. He was so excruciatingly aware that the boy on his knees in front of him was Jimin and it seemed to heighten everything tenfold threatening to sweep the older away in an instant. 

Because Jimin looked perfect in just about any situation.

And this was definitely one of them.

Jimin tugged Yoongi’s pants down, the exposed skin cold in the vulnerable air, but Yoongi could hardly care as the young held against Yoongi’s legs to bring his face nearer, perfect lips kissing over Yoongi’s underwear, pressing against Yoongi’s hardened cock as Jimin kissed a trail up to the head, before moving back down and licking a swipe up the still covered length.

A smile tinted the boys lips as he spread open mouthed kisses over Yoongi’s crotch, holding Yoongi’s cock in his mouth, through the fabric of his underwear as he traced a path up once more, grip going to Yoongi’s sides as he sat up on his knees to kiss the soft spot on Yoongi’s tummy up to his belly button and then back down.

Jimin’s teeth caught on the hem of Yoongi’s underwear, the older almost choking over his own spit as Jimin pulled it down, Yoongi’s dick springing free into the air.

“This crosses so many lines,” Yoongi managed to get out as Jimin wrapped his hand around Yoongi’s cock.

The younger smirked up at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just a good friend helping my friend out,” he tilted his head, teasing.

“I don’t typically give my friends blowjobs, Jimin.”

Jimin laughed, all airy and sweet. “I would totally give Taehyung a blow job if he asked me to.”

Yoongi closed his eyes against that mental image. “Not what I wanted to hear, but okay.”

Jimin guffawed another laugh. “Platonic blow job. I’d give him a platonic blow job.”

“I don’t think you can actually use those two words together, Chim.”

Jimin stuck out his tongue, which was an odd sight accompanied by Yoongi’s dick still in his hand.

“I’m giving you a platonic blowjob, remember?” Jimin licked against Yoongi’s tip and Yoongi grunted at the sensation. 

“Right, cause that makes sense.”

Jimin let go. “I can stop if you want.”

“Fuck, please don’t,” Yoongi blurted out sounding so much more needy and desperate than he meant to be.

Jimin giggled again, wrapping small fingers back around Yoongi’s length as he bit at his lip, staring intently at the member in his grip.

“Your dick is what made me realize I was gay,” Jimin said almost challenging, single-handedly knocking the air straight out of Yoongi’s lungs once more. “How does that make you feel?”

Jimin didn’t even give Yoongi the chance to answer as he wrapped his lips around Yoongi’s tip and pushed down, taking more than half of it into his mouth as his tongue pressed up against it.

Yoongi leaned forward with a stuttered, “f-fuck,” palms hitting the opposite wall where he hovered over Jimin. 

Jimin’s round eyes stared up at Yoongi, a smile tugging on his lips even as they rounded to suck along the expanse of Yoongi like a popcicle, He bobbed his head, tongue swiping on the underside of Yoongi’s girth before the boy pulled off the tip with an audible pop that had Yoongi’s legs shaking. 

Yoongi reached down to tangle his hand into Jimin’s locks, thumb rubbing circles to his temple as Jimin followed the line of Yoongi’s dick down the side, lips locked against the skin, before leaning down to pull Yoongi’s balls against his lips and —

“I didn’t teach you that,” Yoongi said with a startled gasp.

Jimin pulled back to blink up at him, smiling shyly. “Yeah, porn,” he excused with a shrug.

Yoongi only barely managed an, “oh,” before Jimin was reattaching lips to skin, and yeah, Yoongi was probably going to die.

Jimin’s lips wrapped around Yoongi once more as he held the older’s legs for support, pushing forward, gradually taking more and more of Yoongi, the tightness of his throat sucking Yoongi into the met, hot slide in his mouth.

Jimin’s nose brushed the hairs of Yoongi’s groin and the older realized for the first time how loud he was being, moaning and gasping against Jimin’s ministrations. 

He looked perfect, Yoongi thought; a strange inkling twitched his fingers to reach for his phone and snap a picture of Jimin, one of him looking just like this. Jimin pulled back and moved forward again and the thought was violently shot out of his head as his grip tightened in Jimin’s hair.

The boy on his knees moaned, the sound vibrating over Yoongi’s skin, causing his own breath to stutter.

Experimentally, Yoongi gave a gentle tug to the handful of Jimin’s hard he had. Jimin lurched forward immediately at the pull, a similar sound falling out of him, almost in line with a small choke as he blinked up at Yoongi, rounded eyes somewhat teary, but alive, ready— wanting.

It seemed to Yoongi that Jimin liked it rough, but it was a very tame rough. He liked little bites, and small tugs, and Yoongi’s hands gently wrapped around his throat (god, Yoongi would probably forget every other thing including his own name before he forgot that specific image of Jimin) — but every rough gesture was tiny, usually laced with care.

It was interesting holding an understanding of Jimin’s sexual preferences, interesting be well versed in how to get Jimin’s responses flowing out of him. It was like Yoongi had learned a new language without even realized — had picked up on a way of communicating with someone that just happened to be the love of his life. Jimin.

It would probably be a long time before the whiplash of putting all of those memories to Jimin’s face wore off.

Yoongi supposed it was probably assisted by the fact that Jimin was currently sucking him off, giving him new memories to suffer increasing mental collapse over. 

Yoongi carded his hands through the strands of Jimin’s hair, feeling his own breathlessness intensify as Jimin bobbed and sucked, the line of release growing ever closer just from the sight of the boys flushed skin and wide eyes alone.

Yoongi gave small tugs to the hold of Jimin’s hair, nothing enough to actually deliver any real pain, only a fleeting pull or a hard hold. But whatever it was about it seemed to be edging Jimin on even more.

Yoongi combed Jimin’s hair from his face. “I’m going to cum,” he warned, feeling a slight embarrassment at the understanding of who  he was saying that too that quickly faded as Jimin’s bobbing grew faster.

Yoongi barely managed a chocked out sound as Jimin pushed Yoongi all the way down his throat again — the last straw as Yoongi felt his hips spaz under the release rushing through his insides.

Jimin pulled back, leaving a tail of spit all over Yoongi’s cock as ropes of cum hit him on the chest neck and… and face, the boys hand sticking Yoongi through the aftermath as Yoongi felt his soul leave him at the sight.

Yoongi’s knees landed on either side of Jimin’s as he stared at the boy in front of him. He was so fucking close and so fucking perfect, chest heaving from his own exertion, lips still parted, slick with spit.

Yoongi reached forward, cupping the boy’s chin as his thumb swiped the cum from the boy’s lip — they were close, so close, and even as Yoongi made the simple movement, he found that both their heads were tilting, closing the space, but not making the final movement as Jimin looked from his eyes to his lips and muttered a breathless, “Hyung.”

Yoongi was trying to pull his self-control and maturity out of the air, trying to find it wherever it had gone, but it was getting difficult to think, difficult to actually be rational about anything.

“I want to kiss you,” Jimin admitted, barely whispered into the space between them. “But don’t do something you’ll regret, Hyung. We’re pretending, remember?” Jimin gave a small nod, a small reassurance that Yoongi could pull back and it would be fine.

They were pretending after all. Pretending that they were just two good friends getting off in a bathroom, doing each other a favor or whatever.

But Jimin was right there. And Yoongi was pretty sure he could never regret kissing him.

Yoongi closed his eyes and surged forward, completing the distance between them as he took Jimin’s bottom lip between both of his own, reveling in the pitched sound of surprise that fell past the boys lips as Jimin pressed forward to return the kiss. 

They weren’t pretending, were they? Was it even possible for Yoongi to pretend?

Yoongi pushed to deepen the kiss, feeling Jimin’s grip tighten against the fabric of his shirt to pull him in and hold him close, hands fisted, knuckles white in his grip as Yoongi pulled Jimin’s lip between him own, feeling it slip past his hold as he moved for Jimin’s top lip, holding it still before their mouths were pressing against each others, lips opening against each other. Jimin’s tongue flicked over Yoongi’s top lip and Yoongi gripped Jimin’s hair as he moved to claim it.

Yoongi’s other hand traced down Jimin’s shirt, traced over muscles and flushed skin down to Jimin’s pants. He could feel Jimin’s own boner pushing against the material, his tight pants restraining it almost painfully.

Yoongi undid Jimin’s pants button, unzipping the clothing and tugging it just down enough that Jimin’s dick was free, underwear still hiding it from sight. Yoongi traced his thumb over the length, feeling the shudder of Jimin’s body as his eyes screwed shut against the sensation. Yoongi pulled Jimin free and the boy gasped at the feeling, right into Yoongi’s mouth.

Their lips parted with a sharp sound and Yoongi reached up, wiping cum from Jimin’s neck, cheek, and where a bit still remained on the tip of his nose. With his hand now wet with his own release, Yoongi settled his grip around the boy, keeping a space between them so he could watch the younger as he wrapped his grip tight around him and started to move.

Jimin’s eyes fell closed, his head hitting the stall wall as a soft hum traced past his lips.

Yoongi was closing their distance again, finding a rhythm with his hand as he took the boys lips back against his, felt Jimin’s fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, hold him close, almost demanding, as he took the lead in their kiss.

Even then, Yoongi was certain he could still taste his own skin in Jimin’s mouth, his own release against the hot wetness that was the boys lips and tongue. He never imagined he’d find something like that so hot.

Yoongi’s pace increased as he became dimly aware that it really didn’t matter that they’d moved to a stall instead of just doing it out in the open. Barely mattered in the end, because they were being so loud, with Jimin’s gasps, moans, and pants, and their wet sounds of kissing bouncing off the echoey walls. It would take anyone approximately one second to guess what was happening in that stall, maybe two seconds to paint a complete mental image. And Yoongi didn’t care. In that moment, he didn’t care who knew, who walked it, who might learn. He didn’t care, and it felt so reckless and wild and right. So freeing and perfect to hold Jimin, to make him moan like that, and not give a damn if anyone knew.

Jimin was getting closer to his release. Yoongi could tell it in the way the boy’s hips arched into Yoongi’s hold, in the way Jimin’s kisses were turning harsher, falling to Jimin panting against Yoongi’s lips, against his mouth.

Yoongi pressed a gentle peck against Jimin’s top lip before trailing away from his lips, over his jaw, down to his neck. Jimin pulled Yoongi close against the skin, baring his neck in invitation as Yoongi traced his lips over the skin, teeth grazing against the boys pressure point down to his collar.

Yoongi couldn’t actually leave a mark. Not there. And certainly not with their next concert so close, but maybe a little lower. Fleetingly, Yoongi tried to process every outfit change they had for this tour, trying to figure out if this particular shoulder ever actually got exposed or not. Faintly sure it did not, Yoongi wiped over the soft skin, setting his teeth against it in a sign of warning.

Jimin’s grip in his hair only increased, the boy humming loud against the movements pulsing the younger’s dick.

“I’m so close, Hyung,” he drawled.

Yoongi kissed his cheek, unable to form words, but trying to get across a simple that’s fine, go ahead, before returning to the younger’s shoulder. He pinched his teeth against the skin, nipping the area once, twice, three times — and then sunk teeth down.

If Yoongi was being honest, he was trying to time it, but he never imagined it would go off so perfectly that the moment Yoongi’s teeth really sunk down Jimin was calling out, body coiling and curling up as his release struck him, white smearing against their clothes and staining the limited pace between them.

Jimin relaxed as Yoongi traced kisses up his skin, black to his cheek, his chin, his lips — the tension that had sent him into his orgasm washed away to a simple smile and tired eyes as he looked over Yoongi’s face.

“I love you, Hyung,” he said, voice hoarse and soft. “I really, really love you.”

Yoongi wasn’t expecting such a simply confession and it knocked the breath right out of his lungs as he rested his forehead to the side of Jimin’s face, Jimin’s hand reaching to hold against Yoongi’s jaw, thumb rubbing against his cheek.

“I love you too, Chim-ah.”

“And that matters?” Jimin blinked at him.

“More than anything,” Yoongi confirmed.

Jimin smiled almost sadly as he turned his head to catch Yoongi’s lips this time. “I like being with you.”

“Me too,” Yoongi admitted into their newfound calm.

“I don’t like pretending,” Jimin said then, words fading against Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi shook his head. “That wasn’t pretending.”


It had taken an embarrassingly long time to get both of the presentable enough that they could venture back to the others without the fear of being immediately caught. Even still, it had been difficult to come up with a simple explanation for why they had been gone for so long. Even after Jimin was waved out that he’d gotten caught up talking to a stage hand and Yoongi had admitted to becoming distracted on his phone watching a video, Taehyung’s suspicious glance did not leave them.

Jimin had been keeping a lot from Taehyung lately.

The young boy had gone from being Jimin’s only, but complete confidant in every aspect of everything, to missing the most important details in his life. And Jimin wasn’t entirely sure how to be honest with Tae without outing Yoongi

He needed to try though, he decided as Taehyung played loosely with Jimin’s fingers as they drove back to the hotel. Needed to tell him something at least.

“Tae,” Jimin leaned close as Taehyung blinked up at him from where he’d slouched completely against his friend. “When we get there, do you wanna talk?”

Taehyung bobbed his head to nod and Jimin sat back, trying to rehearse what he was going to say. 

As they filed out of the elevator, Jimin caught Yoongi’s glance as he headed towards his room’s door, caught his glance and his sleepy smile and found himself returning in tenfold before Yoongi was stepping in and gone from sight.

Jimin was exhausted, and so obviously was Taehyung, but he still pulled the boy behind the others, watching them all fall away into the different rooms before he was sitting against the floor and nodding for Taehyung to do the same.

The boy wrapped his arms around his tall legs and looked at Jimin with an encouraging smile.

“I haven’t been keeping you up to date on things,” Jimin admitted.

“I know,” Taehyung gaze a lazy smile. “I figured you’d talk when you were ready.”

“So the Masked guy, from the club,” Jimin pushed at his hair.

Taehyung nodded.

“He’s ended up being amazing,” Jimin smiled softly at his own admittance, “Like out of this world amazing. 

Taehyung blinked at him. “At sex?” He inclined.

Jimin laughed. “ I already knew he was amazing at that,” he said, “I just meant in general.”

“You’ve talked?”

“We’ve talked,” Jimin nodded. “A lot.”

“So, you know who he is now?” Taehyung’s tiredness seemed to have been completely swept away in just a moment.

Jimin nodded.

“And he knows who you are?” There was more of an edge to this question, more of a are we going to get in trouble for this? lingering in the words.

“Yes,” Jimin said, holding out his hands. “But, don’t worry. He’d get in just as much trouble as I would if it got out. Turns out he’s an idol too,” Jimin decided on saying.

“Whoa,” Taehyung blinked. “That’s crazy. Small world, right?”

Jimin nodded. You have no fucking idea. “Yeah.”

“Wait. Is it someone we know. Or someone we know of?” Taehyung pressed then. “Who is this guy?”

“I don’t —,” Jimin fiddled with his hands. “I don’t want to out him. I don’t think it’s my place.” He looked at Taehyung, really hoping he could make him understand. “Even if it came from a place of understanding or explanation or whatever. I mean, it would kinda be like you telling someone about me and that just doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Okay,” Taehyung nodded, though a pout was still forming. “I get it. But… you will introduce us sometime, right? Like,” Taehyung laughed softly, “I gotta know who he is eventually. When it gets serious?” He offered.

“Yeah,” Jimin shifted. The It’s Yoongi-Hyung and I’m going to ruin everything because I can’t stay away from him when he’s right there, rushing through his head but never making it out his mouth. “It’s, um, already getting pretty serious,” Jimin admitted.

“Really?” Taehyung leaned forward. “How long has it been since you found out who he is?”

Jimin scoffed a laugh then, “Like a couple weeks.” It felt so stupid to admit it. That not even for a couple weeks could Jimin actually hold his shit together and not do something like corner Yoongi in the bathroom to give him a “platonic” blowjob that turned into one of the most intimate experiences of his life. “But, I mean, we’ve been seeing each other for awhile.” Taehyung thought he meant months, but Jimin meant years. So many years.

“Yeah,” Taehyung admitted, but Jimin could still see he was struggling to wrap his mind around it all, struggling to understand why Jimin was so serious about something so simple and short-lived.

It’s because it is complicated and been going on for har too long, Jimin’s consciousness supplied him. 

“I think I could fall in love with him,” Jimin said, thinking I’m already so in love with him.

“Yeah?” Taehyung smiled.

Jimin nodded. “But I’m so scared, Tae.”

Taehyung wrapped his arm around Jimin’s shoulders. “It’s going to be fine, Chim. You’re going to be fine. And everything will work out. You’ll see.” He smiled encouragingly.

Jimin tried to return it, but it didn’t feel right. Would Tae be saying that if he knew?

“Hey,” Taehyung stretched out his arms as he yawned. “At the very least, this will help you get over Yoongi,” he smirked, proud of his teasing remark.

Jimin’s stomach knotted and fell, a weak, “Yeah,” falling past his lips and he forced a small laugh.

Because, Jimin was assured that there had been nothing further from the truth that Taehyung could’ve said. 

Chapter Text

Their final concert was in the big city itself, Tokyo, Japan. Yoongi was reluctant to say it went on without a hitch, strictly speaking from the simple notion that he didn’t really remember much of it. The final location in the five part series left him exhausted beyond what he could usually handle. It didn’t stop him from pressing on, fighting forward, putting on (what he hoped was) a good show, one that wouldn’t serve to disappoint their loyal fans.

But Yoongi was whipped.

Horrifically so.

As they left the stage, waddling back to change and head to their final hotel destination for their stay in Japan (one they would have for one more day, with one talk show segment scheduled and nothing else which meant Yoongi could just sleep almost all day tomorrow if he wanted), Yoongi was only dimply aware of Jimin next to him. If there was anything that was going to make Yoongi aware, it was probably the short boy with the most amazing smile in the whole world.

Jimin walked close to him, arm lipping between Yoongi’s own and his side to hold him as the younger boy laughed softly at him. “You look like you’re going to keel over.”

“I feel like I am,” Yoongi mumbled. “Sleep,” he added, which he more or less thought summed up all of his hopes and desires at the moment.

Jimin pressed the softest of kisses to his cheek, “Soon,” he assured.

Yoongi blinked more into consciousness at the small gesture, quickly darting his gaze around to make sure everything was still fine. The others were walking ahead. No one was looking back. No one was around them. If there was a camera in the hall it would’ve just looked like Jimin leaned in to say something in his ear, right? Yeah, for sure.

Only after Yoongi had gone through a groggy checklist in his head, was he able to actually let the fact that Jimin — Park Jimin— just kissed him on the cheek like they were young lovers or a sweet couple one could come across at a coffee shop or at the beach — not what they actually were which… Yoongi wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t that.

He was staring. Yoongi wasn’t even vaguely aware of the fact, but he was just staring at the younger, and he couldn’t even be sure if it was in shock or just the steady thrum of absolute softness he felt for the young boy.

Either way, it had Jimin laughing softly as he turned his gaze away. “I made sure not to get caught with that kiss, but if you keep ogling me like that, you’ll blow it for sure.”

Yoongi blinked, snapped out of his reverence. “You surprised me is all,” Yoongi said even as he reached to curl his hand around where Jimin’s rested in a fist in the juncture between Yoongi’s own arm and body, holding it in place, but also rubbing softly over the boys knuckles.

Yoongi felt kind of drunk when he was with Jimin like this. It was a weird comparison, probably not the most flattering. Maybe buzzed was more appropriate. The perfect mix of alcohol to one’s ability to handle it, where everything seems just a little brighter, a litter better — funnier, easier — where there seemed a simply vibration in all of his limbs, pulsing with excitement and fondness and maybe it was just happiness. Yoongi wasn’t really sure. Just knew that it all kinda felt surreal, felt like just about nothing he’d ever experienced before.

Without any more incidents, they managed to catch up to the others, slipping into the room only to disconnect to set about preparing to leave.

“You and Jimin have been very close lately, Hyung,” Hoseok decided to announce loudly as Yoongi slouched to toss his headphones into his bag. “It seems like you’re always hanging off each other,” he smiled brightly at his observation.

Yoongi shot a cautious glance to Jimin who was looking back with wide eyes. Yoongi adverted his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hobi.”

“Oh, come on,” Hosek clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s adorable. You guys are like an old married couple,” he teased.

But Hoseok’s simple teasing sent a jolt of electricity coiling up his spine. “Jimin’s just calmer than you lot,” Yoongi deflected. “It’s easy to stay beside him because you guys make me so tired,” he tried to jest, tried to derail the conversation from Yoongi and Jimin, to just Yoongi is like an old man — a popular topic amongst them.

Hoseok simply waved his hand as kicked his belongings into his own bag. “Jimin is no better than the rest of us. If you wanted calm, you’d go to Namjoon.”

“Whatever,” Yoongi grumbled. 

“I can hear the wedding bells already,” Hoseok continued on, seeming unawares to the cautious glance Namjoon was giving him, a wary awareness tied in with Hoseok’s statement.

Yoongi avoided Namjoon’s look of knowing, because, for once, Namjoon actually didn’t know shit. He just thought he did.

Jimin kept a steady distance as they piled into the two vehicles, had kept a distance the rest of the time they’d had to get ready. And Yoongi hated it, hated that there had to be this awareness, this carefulness in something as simple as being near each other.

Behind his eyelids as Tokyo flashed outside the window in the hustle of obnoxious traffic crowding the streets, Yoongi though of their bathroom hook-up, recalled carefully the recklessness her felt then (and nothing else in fear of popping a boner in the car seated beside Jungkook of all people). Recklessness had been steady since, seeming to be pooling in the center of his gut, waiting for an opportunity to surge forward. 

Yoongi wanted to be reckless. But he also didn’t want anything to change.

It was a constant back in forth in his mind, only heightened in the in-between moments of Jimin sneaking his hand into Yoongi’s, moments when Yoongi would make it a goal to sit by the other, or be by the younger. 

It had only been a couple days since the bathroom. They hadn’t dared try something like that again, they hadn’t had the time. But Yoongi was thinking about it almost constantly.

What would it be like to have Jimin as he already had, but knowing? All the times before almost felt like cheating the system somehow and when Yoongi tried to look back, he struggled to recall how it would’ve felt had he known.

Yoongi wanted to know.

Jimin’s simple statement echoed through his mind of it’s not like it was anything they hadn’t done before.

Yoongi was still reluctant to believe that made any of it okay. Especially when there was so much hanging on them not messing this up.

Drudging into the hotel with their luggage trailing behind them felt like a cruel joke. Yoongi was exhausted, limbs feeling weak from use, legs like uncooked noodles ready to snap in an instant. Yet, due to a scheduling conflict, they hadn’t been able to check-in to the hotel before hand. And yeah, sure, they’d all agreed that it would be fine to just leave their stuff in the car and carry it in later rather than make one of the Big Hit employees have to drag it up, but Yoongi was seriously regretting that decision, because now he had to carry it to his room when he would rather him being carried to his room.

Their manager pulled his hat down, dropping the pieces of paper into it once more and Yoongi sighed as he leaned against his luggage.

“I know you’re tired,” he said, shaking it in front of them, referring to the dropping eyes and statures of each of the seven boys. “But you’re almost done. Just pick a number.”

Even in his exhaustion. Yoongi found himself glancing at Jimin, letting the hope of drawing the same number flutter through his mind and race his pulse before he was trying to calculate the chances of it actually working, all the while being terrible at math and way too tired to even do the most basic arithmetic problem.

And then the hat was in front of him. “Yoongi,” their manager jostled it.

Yoongi reached in, prayed silently and drew out a folded piece of paper.


Yoongi immediately looked up to Jimin, wondering what he had.

Jimin must’ve had the same idea. Across from the small circle they’d formed with their bodies and luggage, Jimin turned his paper subtly, revealing a 2.

Yoongi pouted immediately.

Why was the world so unfair and cruel?

So, who would get to room with Jimin then? — the luck bastard. 

“As their managed asked who had 1, and Hoseok and Taehyung raised their hands, Yoongi peaked over at the number held in Seokjin’s hand. It reflected a prefect, beautiful three.

“Trade with me,” Yoongi muttered to him.

Seokjin narrowed his gaze, “What? Why?”

Yoongi didn’t have time. “Trade with me and I’ll do the dishes on your days for a month.” And maybe Yoongi overshot… you know, just a little. But he was too tired to really care.

Seokjin’s eyes widened at the offer.

“Who’s got a two?” Their manager asked.

Yoongi snatched the paper from Seokjin, pushing his own into the taller boy’s hand as he raised his hand, Jimin holding his own hand up from the other side.

“Great,” their manager went on, not taking notice of Seokjin’s shocked glance and the sly smile Jimin was shining at Yoongi from what he’d seen of the boy’s antics. “Yoongi and Jimin are in room 23,” he held out the key card. 

Jimin took it in his fingers and the subtle blush coloring his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by Yoongi.

“For a month,” Seokjin seemed to remind Yoongi as he crossed his arms. “Why do you want to room with Jimin duo badly?”

Yoongi looked at him. “Just don’t want to room with Namjoon,” he lied effortlessly. “He snores and I’ve been having trouble falling asleep.” All of it was lies (except that Namjoon snored, that was true) but Yoongi really couldn’t care.

Not when Jimin was tugging his lip between his teeth, a smile pulling on his lips.


Jimin’s nerves seemed to thrum with excitement as Yoongi and him pulled their luggage through the door. Casting a glance back, Jimin saw Hoseok and Taehyung entering the room across from theirs, Taehyung giving Jimin a sympathetic look before ducking in.

Jimin cringed at Taehyung’s misunderstanding of the situation, as it was a misunderstanding perpetrated by Jimin’s own lack of handling the truth to the younger. What would he think? Jimin dimly wondered.

But he’d made a deal with himself. After the tour he’d deal with it. But for now, he just wanted to live in it. He supposed he only had a day an a half left. But Yoongi and him were in a room together. A day and a half of that and then maybe Jimin could get it together enough to talk too Taehyung and figure out what the hell to do.

And Jimin was definitely going to try to obtain at least one blowjob from this set-up and some heavy making out for sure and he was nothing short of excited.

The door closed behind him and the air instantly felt thicker, heavier around his shoulders as he placed his stuff on the ground and turned to where Yoongi’s luggage almost took the male down with it as it teetered over and fell to the ground. Yoongi tried to recover like he hadn’t almost just fell on his face, but Jimin was already smiling at his Hyung, shaking his head fondly as the older lightly kicked at his fallen luggage like it was to blame.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Jimin nodded once. “Do you want to go first?”

That was simple —easy. That was exactly what Jimin would say to Yoongi had they not accidentally slept together and stumbled into this strange agreement. If they were still just bandmates and friends and not whatever they were now.

Yoongi blinked up at him. “Oh, yeah, uh, go ahead.”

Jimin nodded once, gathering loose fitting pajamas from his suitcase and his bathroom bag before ducking into the white interior.

“What bed do you want?” Yoongi called out to him.

Jimin turned around, crossing his arms as he leaned to the doorframe. “Which one do you want, Hyung?” He countered.

Yoongi looked to the bed he was closest to, shrugging as he scratched at his head. “This one is fine I guess.”

Jimin smirked. “Then that one,” he nodded, “as well,” he added, hoping Yoongi would get the notion without him having to explain it.

Which, notably, did take a moment as Yoongi blinked tiredly and confused at Jimin before his eyes widened and a soft, “Oh,” stumbled past his lips as he turned to the bed.

“Is that fine?” Jimin asked. They’d shared a bed before. It’s not like Jimin was asking him to do anything in the bed.

“Of course it’s fine,” Yoongi said, tone almost startled with how fast he said it. “I’m going to mess up the other bed,” he nodded, “You know, in case anyone comes in here tomorrow.”

Jimin smiled softly at Yoongi as he crossed to the neatly made bed to tug the comforter and dishevel the pillows, his own smile feeling a bit bitter on his lips as images of his unaware bandmates fleeted through his brain and — would they find out? Surely, Jimin and Yoongi couldn’t keep this hidden for much longer. Not unless they called it off. What would the others think? What would Tae think of Jimin not telling him for this long —

No. Jimin shook the thoughts away. He was giving himself a couple more days. A couple more days to ignore and pretend. A couple more days because the voice Jimin was trying very hard not to hear kept reminding him that this could be his last chance to pretend. Whether him and Yoongi decided to call it off or their members asked them to, it was likely going to end soon, wasn’t it?

Jimin honestly wasn’t surprised when he walked out, toweling his hair, and found Yoongi curled up on top of the covers of the left bed, gaze fluttered shut as his lips parted to let out his soft breathing.

Jimin’s chest seemed to ache with warmth as he crossed the room to the still figure, lowering himself to sit on the mattress as it dipped from his weight. Jimin pushed his hands through Yoongi’s hair, carding his hands through the locks, fingernails lightly running over the older’s scalp. Yoongi pushed up against Jimin’s touch, humming in his weak held sleep.

Jimin was so fond.

So fucking fond.

“Hyung,” he said softly, leaning down to press a kiss against Yoongi’s temple as the older’s expression furrowed against the intrusion on his unconsciousness. “You still need to shower,” Jimin said as he kissed his Hyung’s nose and cheek.

A grumbled, “you tryin’ to tell me I smell, Jimin,” words pushed together in the sloppy way his tired self delivered them.

“No,” Jimin assured, smiling softly as he kissed the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. “You’ll sleep better if you do. You’ll be more comfortable. Especially if you’re not wearing jeans.”

Yoongi grumbled as he blinked his eyes open, slanted gaze locked on Jimin. “I carried you to your room, cleaned you up, helped you change, and this is how you repay me.”

“I can repay you in other ways,” Jimin insisted suggestively.

Yoongi weakly shoved the younger, pushing himself to sit up as he tried to rub the sleep from his face. 

He pouted at Jimin, who took the opportunity to steal a small kiss from the older. When Jimin pulled back, the pout was gone, Yoongi’s gaze much more awake and calculating as he looked from Jimin’s eyes to his lips. Yoongi began leaning in. Jimin stopped him with a hand over the older’s mouth. Yoongi cast an offended glare his way. 

“Shower, and put on pajamas,” he dropped his hand. “And then we can make out.”

Yoongi swallowed at the statement, cheeks tinting a light pink as he pushed himself up and began shuffling through his bag.

Jimin laid down, turning to watch the older move.

This seemed too good to be true. Their own room — for all of tonight and all of tomorrow it could just be them together, hidden from the rest of the world and anything in it.

Yoongi started when he turned around to find himself so intently locked under Jimin’s gaze. Jimin laughed in turn, rolling to hide in the bed as Yoongi walked to the bathroom, the pink still holding to his skin.

Yoongi was so pale, he blushed so easily. Jimin adored it. Just like he adored the grumpy pout and the gummy smile and his shocked expression and so so so much else about the older that it sometimes made Jimin wonder if this all was just some cruel dream he was destined to be jolted from only to return to the reality that he used to exist in where Yoongi was something he could look at but never touch.

As the water ran in the other room, Jimin shuffled off the bed to grab a face mask. He might as well use these minutes since Yoongi was occupied. He tore open the package, placing the white mask over his skin, positioning it in the dresser’s mirror before flopping back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. He understood Yoongi’s exhaustion, as it was weighing him too, the only reason why’d he’d offered a make-out session and nothing more.

Jimin figured they had tomorrow — really hoped they had tomorrow. But now, they both could use the sleep.


Yoongi really shouldn’t have been that surprised when he walked out and found that Jimin had fallen asleep. He smiled fondly at the boy, still spread out, a face mask forgotten on his skin. Shaking his head, Yoongi turned off the man light, the lamp still casting the room in an orange glow as he walked to the boys side to gently pull the dried out mask from the boy’s face and toss it in the waist bin. Jimin’s features scrunched up at the disturbance, but his eyes didn’t open.

Yoongi tugged the comforter down and away on the side not held down by Jimin’s weight, jostling the younger as he rolled Jimin to his side, onto the bed before pulling the comforter back over his body. Yoongi moved into the vacated space, pulling the comforter and sheets over his own body before reaching for the light.

“What ‘re you doin’,” a barely there voice mumbled behind him.

Yoongi turned to face Jimin’s tired face as he blinked up at him. “You fell asleep,” Yoongi said. “Go back to bed.”

Jimin’s arm fell over Yoongi’s waist. “But we’re going to make out,” he said.

“We can make out tomorrow.”

Jimin laid back, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to bring himself back into wakefulness.

Yoongi laughed, “If you’re tired, go to bed,” he nudged the younger. 

Jimin turned onto his side, watching Yoongi as the older turned to switch off the light, plunging their hotel room into a still darkness, the fluttering lights from outside occasionally dancing against a wall.

Yoongi sat back, laying down as he turned to face Jimin in turn.

He could still see the night’s light’s reflection in Jimin’s open eyes.

“Sleep, Min-ah,” Yoongi whispered, reaching to trace the slope of Jimin’s chin up to his lips.

“Kiss me first,” Jimin whispered back.

Yoongi found a smile pulling on his lips as he held Jimin's chin between his thumb and forefinger、inclining his head to meet Jimin’s lips in the space between them. He’d likely never get over how soft Jimin’s lips were or how wonderful it felt to fit his now against them.

It was supposed to be a small kiss, a simple goodnight bidding.

But Jimin’s hand found it way to the side of Yoongi’s face, gripping his jaw as the younger’s features twisted up and he was pushing forward, taking Yoongi’s lips almost desperately between his own. Yoongi was moving to comply, parting his own mouth as Jimin’s hands tangled into his still damp locks, pulling as the younger rolled to his back to drag Yoongi onto of him.

Lips met in darkness until the frantic need calmed out to the still present tiredness claiming slowly over Yoongi’s limbs. Jimin grasp weakened to a light hold, his lips moving slowly against Yoongi’s as they returned to their original position, small touches and gentle presses of lips filling in the air that had been full of gasps and need just a little while before.

Jimin’s eyes remained closed as he made a small effort to gain one more kiss.

Yoongi pressed a soft kiss to Jimin’s temple, feeling sleep ready to take them both. He repositioned himself to close the distance between them, burying his face against Jimin’s hair and breathing in the smell of fruit. Jimin pressed soft kisses against Yoongi’s throat, stilling gradually as his soft breathing pressed breaths of warmth against Yoongi’s neck.

Sleep claimed Yoongi shortly afterwards.


The talk show was alright.

Jimin loved their international fans, loved their concerts, and fan meets, and loved being able to see them, but he absolutely hated not knowing what the hell was going on, which was constant in foreign countries. He could pick some of what their host was saying, but the Japanese was too fast for him to make out full sentences and he found himself mostly nodding along and pretending to know was going on until their translator could fill in the blanks, but even then it was too fast and Jimin was content to letting the other members make most of their responses.

It wasn’t too long though before they were back in the car, heading to a restaurant for their late lunch.

“You seem stressed,” Yoongi commented from the seat next to Jimin in the car.

Jimin slouched against him, not giving him an answer as he was sure if he tried to put his reason for being put off, it would come out selfish and pathetic.

Yoongi reached to run his hand through the side of Jimin’s hair, before resting it assuringly against his leg.

Hoseok gave them a funny look from the seat next to them in the back, but Jimin just shrugged it off. He’d care about that later.

Lunch was held at a hole in the wall ramen joint, suggested by one Kim Taehyung. It was good — better than good actually and Jimin happily rocked in his chair as he slurped up more and more noodles.

“That’s all it took to make you happy then, huh?” Yoongi smiled from the opposite end of the table at him, holding his own chopsticks full of noodles.

Jimin blinked up at him, smiling widely once the words registered. “Yep.”

“You guys have the rest of the day off,” their manager sighed, sitting back in his seat. “Do what you will with it. Plane leaves at twelve tomorrow, so be ready to leave the hotel by eight, yeah?”

Eight seemed a little extreme to Jimin, but even he was aware that he wouldn’t have cared at all had it not been stealing time from him and Yoongi. His stomach jolted uncomfortably under the understanding that this could end tomorrow at eight. He tried to assure himself that, surely, it wouldn’t be that sudden. It couldn’t end just like that.

But once they left Japan, they were going to have to figure out how to make this work.

And not doing it at all seemed the most possible option —

Jimin shook it off. He was just freaking out over nothing. It would be fine. It would be fine. And, until then, he wasn’t going to think about it.

“Oooh,” Taehyung sat straighter. “We should go look around. I love being in Tokyo.”

“I don’t know, Tae,” Namjoon was saying before Jimin could even open his own mouth to protest. “I’m really tired from this tour.”

Jimin nodded along, “Me too, Tae.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi stabbed down into his broth, avoiding looking at anyone. “Me too.”

Jimin bit the inside of his mouth to keep from beaming. “I was just going to stay in the hotel,” Jimin glanced up, catching Yoongi’s gaze, “I was thinking for the rest of the night.”

Yoongi jolted, blinking with a bit of shock before looking away, pink tinting his light skin and Jimin was smiling at his success.

“Just, let me take a nap,” Namjoon nodded at Taehyung’s pouting expression. “Then maybe we can do something.”

“I’m not tired, Tae,” Jungkook nudged him. “We could go look around.”

Taehyung beamed immediately. “Great!”


But then they were alone. Yoongi was so prominently aware of this notion as the door clicked closed behind them, the lock beeping once to announce its locked status. Yoongi kicked off his shoes and barely managed to catch a glance of Jimin when his back was hitting the wall and hands were grabbing at his coat, pulling him in to lock him in a kiss.

Yoongi tilted his head, grabbing hold of they Youngers waist to push forward, claim more of Jimin’s mouth with his own.

“We have some time, don’t you think?” Jimin said before tugging at Yoongi’s bottom lip with his teeth.

“Depends,” Yoongi managed in between each of Jimin’s kisses.

“Depends?” He repeated a pull in his brow as he examined Yoongi’s features before dragging his lips up the boy’s throat, tracing Yoongi’s Adam’s apple and making it impossible to breathe. 

“What it is you’re thinking?” Yoongi choked out just as Jimin pressed himself flush against Yoongi’s body, knee pressed between his legs, pressing to his crotch as he had the audacity to grind forward.

“Fuck,” Yoongi grabbed the younger’s shoulders for purchase, almost sliding down the wall he was currently cornered again.

Jimin’s teeth tugged on his lip. When the younger’s teeth slid off the skin, Yoongi pulled it protectively between his own teeth, narrowing his gaze at the younger. “Are you trying to kill me?” He accused, already feeling the desperate heaving in his chest, the heat that seemed to have been set alight under his skin.

Jimin smiled, laughing lightly and Yoongi found himself immediately relaxing at the gentle sound, hands reaching to cup at the younger’s face, holding him close still as Jimin wrapped his fingers to hold Yoongi’s hands over where they held. “When are we going to get another chance like this?”

Yoongi tried not to let his breathing stutter too much under what the younger could be implying. How much did he mean? How far was he willing to go? How far was Yoongi willing to go? — but, of course, that wasn’t really a question, even as Yoongi let the following words slip from his mouth.

“Jimin,” he didn’t mean to sound so breathless when he said it.

But, the reality was, they weren’t supposed to be doing this. The last time they’d talked — had a good and proper talk — they’d decided not to cross this line, not to do stuff like — I don’t know — give each other blowjobs in a bathroom or literally make out every chance they got. The last time they’d talked, they’d pushed all of this off the table, signing away their feelings for the sake of the grander… something — Yoongi wasn’t really sure just what it was in that moment, just that things were at stake. Things like their friendships, their bandmates, their careers — really big and important things. But just as readily as they’d agreed to be mature about this and put the grander scheme of things ahead of their insistent feelings, they’d trampled right over that agreement and basically ignored it the entire time they’d been in Japan. And the cruel, disheartening reality was that, 

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Yoongi added.

And there was a lot Yoongi could’ve meant by that, but by the way Jimin’s smile faded, his grip tightening as he looked away from Yoongi’s face, Yoongi knew the boy knew exactly what he meant. 

“We can’t pretend much longer, can we?” Jimin said, the word sounding cruel off his tongue. But his hold on Yoongi didn’t lessen, nor did he step away to regain their space.

Yoongi let his grip fall to Jimin’s wrists, holding tight as he rubbed over the boys skin. “I thought you didn’t like pretending.”

“I don’t,” Jimin said, still looking away even as Yoongi tried to meet his gaze. “But that’s all we’ve got right now, isn’t it.”

So, they were pretending. Jimin’s gentle words served as pained reminder of their actual situation.

“We’re not pretending that it doesn’t mean anything,” Jimin clarified, finally returning Yoongi’s gaze and offering a small smile. “Because it does and I won’t pretend like it doesn’t. I just want to pretend that this is okay,” Jimin swung their arms out and then back in again, interlocking their fingers and leaning all of his weight against Yoongi. “I want to pretend that I can have you and that there won’t be any consequences. If we just have until tomorrow, then I want to pretend until then.”

Yoongi was definitely losing all strands of rationality.

“It will hurt in the morning, having to leave it.”

“I know,” Jimin said with a nod that resonated a maturity and understanding Yoongi sometimes forgot to see in the boy. “I’m okay with that.”

Yoongi traced up the boys arms, up to his collar. 

“Are you?” Jimin questioned.

"I don't know,” Yoongi said honestly. “But I know I’m not okay with just sitting around for the rest of the night when this could be our last chance.”

He met Jimin’s gaze as he traced up and under the boy’s chin.

Yoongi’s thumb rested against the bow in the boys lips when Jimin spoke next. “I want tonight, Yoongi. I want you tonight. All of you.”

Yoongi’s breathing was shaky as his thumb slipped from its place.



Chapter Text

Yoongi had long been considering how different it might be with Jimin if he knew. He’d done it with the boy half a dozen times, but there had always been a wall in the understanding that it wasn’t Jimin. Because, despite the boy having literally all of the physical attributes of the younger, Yoongi hadn’t thought he was doing it with Jimin — his Jimin — the boy he’d fallen in love with. Yoongi had always wondered if it would be different, just how different it could feel. And then he’d had the best blowjob that probably existed in the universe and he knew it was not just because Jimin was hot or Jimin was good at giving blowjobs — in fact, it had very little to do with that in the end.

What it had really been was simply that it had been Jimin.

So maybe hovering over Jimin — knees sinking into the mattress between Jimin’s legs as the boy preened under him, arching into Yoongi’s firm grasp on the juncture of his thigh to his crotch, lips smacking out into the otherwise quiet room as their panting filled the air — shouldn’t have felt like Yoongi was going to combust into flames right there, but maybe he wasn’t surprised that it did.

Only for that feeling to sweep away in a jolt as Yoongi realized something he should’ve realized perhaps five or even ten minutes ago.

“Shit, Jimin, we can’t,” Yoongi couldn’t keep the pout from his voice as he sat back, sitting on his knees as a very frazzled boy stared back at him, shirt discarded early on. The bareness of his torso revealed the heaving of his chest as he sat up to glare at Yoongi.

“What do you mean we can’t,” he accused. 

“I don’t have anything,” Yoongi said, feeling his own disappointment reach through him. “Condoms or lube. I didn’t bring any because I honestly didn’t think this would happen.” He gestured between them. “We can’t do it without lube and we can’t just roam into the nearest store to buy some. Oh my god, what if we get caught?” Yoongi grabbed at his head, “And—.”

Jimin pushed himself forward to cut Yoongi off in a kiss, hands moving to cup Yoongi’s face as he pushed up, straddling against Yoongi’s waist as their chests pressed flush together. “Silly, Hyung,” he drawled against Yoongi’s lips. “You think I’d go through all of the trouble of seducing you if I didn’t have lube.”

Jimin fell back then, jostling the mattress as he basically summersaulted from the tasseled covers to kneel next to his suitcase, unbuttoned jeans falling past the band of his boxers.

He tugged the bottle out, holding it up like it was a triumph.

Yoongi narrowed his gaze. “Why did you bring lube, Jimin?”

Jimin laughed, throwing his whole body into the small sound as he came to kneel on the bed. “I didn’t,” he dropped the full model down next to Yoongi’s thigh. “After we, uh,” he scratched his head, “did what we did in the bathroom,” — was it stupid that thinking about that made Yoongi flush still? Even after he’d just had Jimin pinned under him? — “I went to a grocery store and bought some. They have those self-self-checkouts — thank god! — and I wore a mask and bought some snacks too.” He grinned at his own sneakiness but Yoongi was just shaking his head at him.

He wrapped his arm to the boys side, feeling him tense under the sudden touch on bare flesh before he was pushing him down and stealing another kiss.

“What would you do if I wasn’t prepared,” Jimin teased under him, letting out a pitched laugh afterwards that ruined the taint in his voice.

Yoongi kissed the sound from his lips, letting his grip travel over Jimin’s side, able to trace the outline of his ribs against muscle.

Jimin was in his arms and it was still kinda hard to wrap his mind around.

“Besides,” Jimin said, voice fading to a near rasp as he arched against the simple touch of Yoongi’s fingers tracing the lines and curves of Jimin’s side down to his hip. “We would have done it anyways.”

Yoongi pulled back to narrow his gaze at Jimin. “No we would not have.”

“Oh, come on,” Jimin sighed. “We would’ve used something. I don’t know — like lotion or something.”

Yoongi fixed his stare and said nothing.

“I didn’t get condoms,” Jimin said then. “Couldn’t find them. Are you saying that we can’t do it now?”

“I’m not saying that,” Yoongi said. “I get tested after I go to that club. Well — I usually get tested after I go to that club. I only got tested once while we were doing it, but I also haven’t been with anyone else since. And you’ve ––.” Yoongi cut himself off with his own sudden uncertainty. Had Jimin been with anyone else? 

“I haven’t,” Jimin sat up to clarify, forcing Yoongi to have to sit up as well, though he still leaned over Jimin from where the younger pushed himself up from the mattress. “I haven’t been with anyone other than you,” Jimin finished the thought, “Not since we started."

Yoongi probably didn't have the right to have that simple statement make him feel so much better, feel almost light in the notion that it had just been him and Jimin that whole time. It wouldn’t change anything if it had been different, Yoongi was sure, but he was also sure that there would be something very bitter twisting in his awareness if that had not been the case. Plus there was the present awareness that, if that was the case, Jimin had never actually done it with any other guy which had some kind of possessive delight warming his chest.

“So, we’re good then?” Yoongi leaned in to nip at the skin just under Jimin’s earlobe. 

Jimin hummed his affirmative, arching up against against Yoongi at the small pinch, arm coming to wrap around Yoongi’s neck and pull him back down onto of him. Jimin’s hand reached around to tangle  his fingers into Yoongi’s hair, holding Yoongi close to his neck where Yoongi kissed patterns over the boys throats.

Jimin sighed under him. Hands coming around to cup Yoongi’s face, dragging him back up to meet his lips.

“I love kissing you,” Yoongi said, inclining his head back just enough to be able to brush his thumb over the boys lips. 

“Yeah?” Jimin smiled at him, fingers curling over Yoongi’s bare hips. 

Yoongi kissed him again. “Yeah.”

“It’s a little strange,” Jimin admitted, voice almost a whisper in the space between them.

“It is?” Yoongi pulled back just a bit. 

He wasn’t able to get very far when Jimin’s hands locked to the back of his neck to hold him in place. “Not a bad strange,” Jimin clarified. “Just strange.” The boy’s gaze traced over Yoongi’s lips. “We’re us after all.”

Yoongi kissed his nose. “And what do you mean by that?”

“I already loved you before I was in love with you,” Jimin said successfully stopping Yoongi’s heart in its tracts. “You were my friend — I mean, you are my friend — but you were my friend before this. And everything’s just really out of order,” he managed a small chuckle. “Like really out of order.”

Yoongi could agree with that. “Usually people start sleeping together after they fall for each other, and they’re supposed to date before they do that and they’re supposed to know who they’re sleeping with and it’s not usually their bandmate and —.”

“You having second thoughts?”

“Not second thoughts,” Jimin assured. “Just thoughts.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi rubbed over Jimin’s exposed skin.

“I don’t wish we hadn’t done this, because I don’t,” he assured that point. “I just wish we’d done it a little differently is all.”

It was a sad admittance. But one Yoongi understood.

“Maybe then,” Jimin twisted his finger with a strand of Yoongi’s hair. “This wouldn’t be so hard.” 

Yoongi kissed Jimin softly. “But would we even be here then?”

“That is the question,” Jimin admitted, tracing his forefinger down Yoongi’s face. He held his palm at Yoongi’s chin, tracing his thumbs down Yoongi’s nose. “I’m sorry,” he smiled, but it was forced — Yoongi hated that it had to be forced. “We’re not supposed to be talking about this. We’re supposed to be pretending.”

Yoongi took Jimin’s hand pulling it from his face and squeezing it tight. “We can talk about it,” Yoongi assured.

Jimin shook his head. “I don’t want to. I want to do this.” He nodded, linking his free grasp with Yoongi’s pants to tug him forward pressing Yoongi between his legs. “We can talk later,” Jimin assured as Yoongi found their faces stinkingly close to each other. “We can’t do this later.”

“Are you sure you want this?” Yoongi was breathing the same air as Jimin, lips so close he could steal a kiss in a second if he wanted to.

Jimin nodded. “I want to know what it feels like when I know it’s you.”

Yoongi was certain Jimin couldn’t have said anything more perfect that that. Their lips collided as Yoongi closed the small space between them, Jimin pushing up into the kiss wrapping an arm around the back of  Yoongi’s neck to pull him up, legs crossing behind Yoongi’s back, as he was pulled into Yoongi’s lap, the position setting Jimin’s height over his own as Yoongi looked up to capture another kiss Jimin’s fingers tugged Yoongi’s shirt. 

“It’s not fair you’re more clothed,” Jimin insisted in-between kisses.

Yoongi allowed them to separate as Jimin pried his shirt off over his head.

“You took my shirt off five seconds in,” Jimin insisted. “I swear, the only thing you like about me are my abs,” he teased.

Yoongi surged forward to kiss all over Jimin’s face as the younger squealed in his arms.

“I like everything about you, Park Jimin,” Yoongi insisted, his words alone setting a light in Jimin’s eyes as he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. “Your abs are just a perk.”

Jimin planted a long kiss on Yoongi’s lips and Yoongi could feel him smiling into it.

“What was it about me?” Jimin asked as he pulled back, tilting his head. “That made you approach me in that club?”

Yoongi could feel the embarrassment already. 

“You said I looked like someone you knew— you know, me—,” he giggled, “But what is it that makes someone look like me. What were you looking for?”

Yoongi cleared his throat. “God, you know how to make me sound like a creep,” Yoongi started off.

Jimin beamed.

“You know, it wasn’t like I would only sleep with someone if they looked like you. That’s weird. It’s just that,” Yoongi was flushing down to his toes, “if they did look a little like you I wasn’t opposed,” he cringed even as he said it, dropping his head against Jimin’s shoulder and groaning. “Can we not talk about this?”

Jimin was laughing, pushing Yoongi up to look him in the face. “No,” he insisted. “I want to know. What were you looking for?”

“Height mostly,” Yoongi admitted, getting a prompt punch in the arm from an aghast Jimin.

“What?” Yoongi defended, finding it ridiculous that they were having this conversation while both of them were shirtless and Jimin was in his lap. “I have a type. And that is shorter than me.”

“I am so not shorter than you,” Jimin insisted, mouth still open in offense. 

“Okay, fine,” Yoongi smiled at Jimin. “Just short then.”

Another light punch struck Yoongi’s arm, followed by a, “What else?”

“Your lips,” Yoongi recalled first laying eyes on the masked Jimin in the club. He held Jimin’s lip with his thumb. “They’re very unique.”

“No they’re not,” Jimin tried to insist.

“They are,” Yoongi fought back.

“You like my lips?” Jimin titled his head.

“Very much,” Yoongi admitted a little breathlessly.

Jimin leaned in, mirth in his gaze. “Did you like it when I wrapped them around your —?”

Yoongi almost hit his head against Jimin’s when he surged forward in his attempt to silence the younger, pressing a “shhhhh,” against the boy’s cheek, trying not to laugh through his surge of hot embarrassment. 

“What else?” Jimin insisted, excitement clear in his expression as he tugged on his own lip some more.

Yoongi let his hands trail down Jimin’s spine, cupping Jimin’s ass. “This.”

“Yeah?” Jimin smirked.

Yoongi let his hands trail around the boys hips, grasping his thighs. “These.”

Jimin always loved praise. It didn’t take an idiot to see that. But there was something dangerous in Jimin’s eyes as he watched Yoongi’s every movement, breath coming out a little heavy like he’d been working out or running and it dawned on Yoongi way too suddenly that it was turning him on.

Yoongi would tease him about that later.

Yoongi let his fingers trace just pass Jimin’s crotch up to his navel, over the tight muscles right there. “These.”

Yoongi felt Jimin tense.

Yoongi brought his thumb up, tracing it over his abs and up the middle of his chest right to his throat, tracing over his Adam’s apple, “This.”

He titled Jimin’s face closer, kissing his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, over his closed eyes, muttering, “This,” with every one.

Jimin was squirming in his lap, “More,” he chocked out when Yoongi was certain that Jimin meant to say, “What else?”

“Take off your pants and I’ll show you.”


Jimin was dying.

There was literally no other explanation for the feeling that was stealing all of the air from his lungs in a swarm of heat between his ribcages like his very lungs had set ablaze and every breathless pant was only there to release the torrents of smoke wafting from the fire set there.

Okay — maybe there was another explanation.

And maybe it had something to do with Yoongi between his legs sucking marks up his thighs.

It shouldn’t have felt so different now. But it did. There was no denying that something was definitely more. Just more. All of it. Every couple seconds he’d just have the thought reoccur that it wasn’t just anybody between his legs but Yoongi, wasn’t just anybody sinking teeth into his thighs or reaching for the lube.

That was Yoongi.

Pale, grumpy. Gummy-smiled, adorable Yoongi. His Yoongi.


Yoongi bit down on the expanse of skin just to the side of Jimin’s thigh and Jimin yelped, testing up.

“Sorry,” Yoongi said, rubbing his thumb over the already reddening skin. “Was that too hard?”

Jimin shook his head, breathing stuttering. “No. No, it’s fine.”

“Why do you like that?” Yoongi kissed over it like that made it not hurt.

“I like being able to see it later,” Jimin admitted.

“So it’s not a pain thing?” Yoongi pouted, leaning into press another kiss to the bite.

“Not really,” Jimin said, reaching to card his hands through Yoongi’s locks. “Though I don’t mind it,” he assured. “As long as it’s not too much. If its just a little I kinda like it,” Jimin smirked down at the dark gaze staring up at him.

“Why do you like to see it later?” 

“Reminds me that it happened,” Jimin chewed on the inside of his mouth as Yoongi pulled himself up, head level with Jimin’s stomach rather than his crotch. The older’s expression seemed to bleed a question of why? So Jimin went ahead and answered. “Sometimes I feel like I need a reminder that this is real. Not just you, but all of it.”

“The gay thing,” Yoongi put it into words.

“Yeah, the gay thing,” Jimin admitted. “Plus, I get excited when I can see them the next day or the day after.”

Yoongi hoisted himself further up, face level with Jimin’s collar as he reached for the boy’s shoulder, thumbing over the bruise still left there from their bathroom incident. “Like this one.”

“Especially that one,” Jimin placed his hand over the bruise. “Cause you did it.”

“Did I not do all of them?” Yoongi narrowed his gaze. 

“But I knew you did this one,” Jimin smiled. “Every time I saw it I knew.”

“I love you,” Yoongi said then, wrapping his fingers to the lube as he flicked the cap. 

Jimin laughed out loud. “I love you too.” He turned his head to watch Yoongi handle the small bottle. “Whatchu gonna do with that?”

“I was going to use it on you if you’re okay with that,” Yoongi quirked his head.

“Very okay,” Jimin dropped his head back, laughing with his mouth open. “We’ve talked a lot more than we’ve had sex thus far. And that was after I said that we weren’t talking but having sex so yeah, I think it would be very helpful if you started —.”

Yoongi interrupted him the best way Jimin could possibly think of: with a kiss.

Yoongi rocked back on his knees, in between his legs, squeezing lube onto his finger tips. Jimin watched his every movement carefully, with a tremble in his lungs and an excitement pulsing through his veins. He was ready— so ready. His body was giving off every queue of this, every sign. From the way his dick stood erect against his stomach to the way his own body quivered every time Yoongi so much as touched him.

It was actually very obnoxious how long Yoongi had taken to get to this point in Jimin’s mind and it would be very helpful if he could just get to the —-

Yoongi’s finger pressed in to the first knuckle and Jimin arched with a small gasp, feeling the slight intrusion in his bones. But it wasn’t enough. It was so very not enough because it was barely in there and Jimin was so fucking horny.

“Yoongi,” he whined trying to shuffle further onto the digit but Yoongi’s hand reached to hold him in place by his hip. “More,” Jimin demanded with a pout when he found the older was just watching his face, making no intention of actually putting it in and Jimin was going to kill him.

“Yoongi, I will fight you,” Jimin said.

A smile split Yoongi’s features as he laughed, draping his head and easing his finger completely inside. 

Jimin gasped softly at the feeling. “What was taking so long?” He complained. 

“I got distracted watching you,” Yoongi smiled softly up at Jimin giving an experimental push of his finger back in after drawing out. 

Jimin whined. 

“You’re gorgeous, you know that right?”

Jimin looked down at him, past the stuttering rise of his own chest to see the way Yoongi was looking at him and he. was. dying. Especially when Yoongi started p a rhythm, moving his finger in and out, the glide almost too easy, too perfect.

Jimin’s mouth fell open at the feeling.

When Yoongi added a second, Jimin dropped his head back against the mattress, letting out a strangled moan.

“You make the best sounds,” Yoongi pressed a sharp kiss against Jimin’s thigh.

“I like your fingers,” Jimin stuttered out as Yoongi’s pace increased, scissoring Jimin open and — oh good god, it was Yoongi scissoring him open. That was so weird to think about. 

“Yeah?” Yoongi said with that teasing mirth Jimin both hated and loved.

“They’re so long,” Jimin drawled, turning his head to be able to see Yoongi as his arm continued to move back and forth in Jimin’s line of vision, revealing the action that Jimin could feel pushing him open, massaging him open — opening him from Yoongi.

Fuck! He was so turned on.

“So much longer than mine,” Jimin went on, gasping as Yoongi crooked his fingers and managed to hit that spot. Yoongi knew where that spot was already, knew exactly where it was because they’d done this so many times before and Yoongi was really very great at hitting that spot. “I could never reach when I did that to myself.”

Yoongi groaned, dropping his head to Jimin’s stomach. “You can’t say shit like that. I’ll combust.”

Pink tinted his ears and cheeks and Jimin loved it, reaching down to tassel the older’s locks and meet his gaze with a wide smile. “Love your hands,” he repeated. “Love you.”

Yoongi sat back up, kissing Jimin’s knee and pushed a third digit in. Jimin arched into the feeling. “I’m ready,” he drawled. “I’m ready. I’m ready. Please just do the thing —.”

“Do the thing?” Yoongi repeated, teasing.

“I will do it myself,” Jimin threatened, which genuinely didn’t hold nearly as much of a bite as he intended when Yoongi crooked his fingers up again as he said it making Jimin thrash up with the overwhelming, sudden rod of fire in his veins.

Yoongi’s fingers were slipping out, leaving Jimin feeling empty as his muscles tried to clench around nothing. He was certain he’d never get used to this feeling, the feeling of being open like this with nothing in him. Jimin didn’t like this feeling, it was insanely exposing.

But Yoongi was there, body pressed tight against Jimin’s. And his member was right there, resting against Jimin’s opening but not pushing in, not yet. Because Yoongi was a monster.

“Sit up,” Yoongi commanded, and Jimin rushed to obey, following Yoongi’s body, keeping him close, not willing to lose his warmth.

Yoongi guided his legs to either side of his hips, trailed his hands over his spine, down to his ass, guiding and — that was a dick poking him in the asshole. That was a weird thing to think about.

Yoongi kissed him long and sweet, “Are you ready?”

Jimin bobbed his head to nod, breathless as he insisted. “Very.”

The slip past that first ring of muscle was one of Jimin’s favorite things. The stimulation was enough to have Jimin grasping to Yoongi’s neck. Slowly, Yoongi continued to slide in, until Jimin’s ass hit Yoongi’s hips and Jimin could feel all of him inside himself and oh good lord — Min Yoongi was inside of him.

Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut and he hummed on his way down, sitting still in Yoongi’s lap, adjusting the intrusion.

“You good?” Yoongi reached to push a strand of hair from Jimin’s face.

Jimin nodded, blinking open to lean in and kiss Yoongi, open-mouthed and hot. Jimin pulled up as he leaned to kiss Yoongi, sinking back down when he sat back. He sighed past Yoongi’s lips doing it again intentionally.

Yoongi’s arms wrapped around Jimin’s waist, hoisting him up as he pressed his own hips up, stealing the breath straight from his lungs. “Again,” Jimin breathed.

So Yoongi complied.

Jimin’s heels dug into Yoongi’s spine as Yoongi held him closer, rolling into him with desperate motions as if trying to tug Jimin’s body into his, as if there was a way to go deeper, further. Yoongi’s grasp dug into the skin on Jimin’s hips, their bodies falling back as Jimin’s spine hit the mattress and Yoongi pounded into him, against him, their breathing like gasps out into the calm expanse of their room. Yoongi groaned low in his throat, almost growled against Jimin’s neck. 

Jimin’s grip curled to Yoongi’s hips, digging into pale skin and pulling him closer, holding him tight against him.

It was Yoongi.

Jimin could see the darkness in his eyes, could see the hooded gaze locking over Jimin’s face, tracing his features as swollen lips reached to steal kisses to take skin between them. Yoongi’s hair tangled in his fingers, Yoongi’s skin pressed flush against his own. Yoongi’s pants, Yoongi’s thrusts —

It was all so familiar, resonating in flashes of memories and touches. This man. He’d been with this man but never like this because he hadn’t known, but now he did and it was Yoongi. 

“Yoongi,” Jimin moaned.

And he could already feel the edge, feel it creeping up on him and he was ready to throw himself over. It was like an increasing obstacle, whenever Yoongi would catch his gaze it was a stuttering push forward, every time the awareness would grip him in the notion that his Yoongi was the one making his toes curl in pleasure —the one hitting that spot deep inside him, the one with hands tugging him close and thrusts calculated and perfect— every time it was another push nearer and nearer and—

“I’m gonna—,” Jimin gasped, the sound a breathless pitch in the limited space between them. 

“Me too,” Yoongi kissed him, desperate and wanting.

Jimin was vaguely wondering if he could time it so they would reach it together.

But then Yoongi thrusted in perfectly against Jimin’s prostrate, fingers digging patterns along Jimin’s side and Jimin was cumming with Yoongi’s name on his lips and his hand around his dick. 

Yoongi thrusted through Jimin’s release, stilling as he became too sensitive in the older’s arms. Jimin laid limp against the mattress as Yoongi pulled out, that empty feeling returning and Jimin furrowed his expression against it. 

Jimin sat up — too quick after— his ass aching and he shifted to sit on it differently as he tiredly pushed against Yoongi’s chest, sending him back against the mattress ad Jimin came to rest on top of him, hand wrapping to Yoongi’s member, pumping him in quick thrusts wile his tongue danced against Yoongi’s.

Yoongi hummed with a stuttered moan and Jimin’s name slipping past his lips in jumbled syllables and the world stilled.

“I want you to always cum with my name on your lips,” Yoongi fully opened his gaze to meet Jimin’s as he carded his hands through his hair.

“That can be arranged,” Jimin drawled back, catching Yoongi’s jaw with his lips before falling to rest against the older chest, laying still, their breathing returning to normal. “We just did that,” Yoongi traced his middle finger over Jimin’s shoulders as Jimin wrapped his arms tight around Yoongi.

“Yeah,” Jimin chuckled. “We just did that.”

“Again,” Yoongi added.

“It felt like its own first time,” Jimin sighed against the older skin, not even sure he was making sense.

A kiss pressed to Jimin’s head, over his hair, Yoongi’s hand taking handfuls of Jimin’s hair, holding, before releasing and finding another handful to hold gently in his hand. 

Jimin put his chin to Yoongi’s chest to look up at him. “We should do it again.”

Yoongi chuckled. “You’re not tired.”

“Oh, I’m tired,” Jimin assured. “But he have to do it again.” He insisted.

“Not declining,” Yoongi rubbed Jimin’s shoulder, his bare skin. “But why do we have to?”

“Because you didn’t bite me,” Jimin tugged his lip between his teeth. “I need a mark up here,” he reached to tap his neck. “Where I can see it. So I can wear this day for a week after.”

Yoongi kissed him. “Shower,” he insisted. “Then nap. Then we’ll do it again.”

Jimin pushed himself off of Yoongi, tugging Yoongi to sit up too. “Fine. But only if we shower together.”


Yoongi maybe accepted showering with Jimin to turn into the worlds greatest shower sex, but was actually fine to find that wasn’t what Jimin had in mind at all. They were naked and the water was warm and Yoongi’s arms were wrapped around Jimin’s waist, holding them flush together as Jimin’s hands carded soap through Yoongi’s hair, the younger’s lips held tight between his teeth in focus as he pushed Yoongi’s hair up into spikes on his head, a child-like smile tugging at his lips and Yoongi wondered if it was that smile he’d fallen in love with first, or the others. Which one? Which one had so totally captivated his awareness and stolen his heart? Because Yoongi felt like it could be that one.

Jimin laughed at his final work and Yoongi decided to return the favor.

With matching soap-twisted mohawks Yoongi kissed Jimin under the warm stream of water in the fogged up bathroom and laughed against his lips and felt for the first time like he could actually understand the lyrics of every single love song ever written.


Jimin fell asleep in Yoongi’s arms, but Yoongi couldn’t quite find it in himself to do the same. He kissed the younger’s cheek and forehead before slipping out of his arms and out of the bed. He got dressed, placing a cap over his head and a mask over his face and watched Jimin’s steady breathing with a calm sense of wonder he couldn’t recall feeling since he was a child.

Then he left.

Tokyo was vast, but concentrated all the same. Yoongi once heard that you didn’t actually have to ever venture far out to find anything and everything you could be looking for. The only thing was, Yoongi wasn’t really sure what he was looking for when he started. So he was still shocked when he stumbled across it only a couple blocks down from the hotel.

A jewelry shop, a display window.

Yoongi was pushing through the door with the faint image of rose-gold bands flitting through his mind.

His Japanese was limited. Good god was it limited, but he gave it his best shot.

He approached the clerk, a tall woman with a tight bun and a tight face and gestured vaguely behind him. “The ring in the window,” he said. “The pink one.” Because what was the word for rose gold in Japanese? “How much?”

The numbers were hard to catch as she said them, but he realized he genuinely did not care how much it cost.

“Size?” She asked.

Yoongi guessed, hoping he was right.

The woman smiled widely at him, stepping away to retrieve the rings in question while Yoongi pulled his wallet out of his pocket, ready.

The woman said something Yoongi missed, but he assumed it was something along the lines of, “Here it is.”

“Can I try it on?” He asked.

She nodded.

It fit. He placed it back in the box with a satisfied smile tugging on his lips.

Within the ring box, the simple, slim band stared up at Yoongi. It simple. Small. Barely really anything. Which was kinda perfect. Even if it was noticed, no one would really put together what it was. What it meant.

Yoongi held up two fingers, “Two, please.” He said.

She gave him a strange look, but nodded her compliance and retrieved an identical ring, placing it on the counter beside the first.

Yoongi handed his credit card, hoping the payment went through as he still wasn’t sure what the price of it was. His card was handed back to him and the rings carefully wrapped in parchment and handed to him in a pristine white and gold bag.

Yoongi muttered his thanks and left the shop.

He found a bench not too far away and sat to pull out his newest purchase and stare after it with wonderment in his gaze. He was nuts probably.

Only for today. That’s what this was supposed to be. And Yoongi still wasn’t sure why’d he’d gotten them. He supposed he had the walk back to the hotel to figure it out.

But Jimin said he liked to be marked, liked to see and remember. Maybe this could be their mark.


When Jimin blinked his way into consciousness the day had faded to night, the city lights spread outside the window in a sea staring up at him. The bed was jostled beside him and a smile spread over Jimin’s lips as he turned, finding Yoongi sitting up beside him, legs crossed as his hands carded through Jimin’s hair. Jimin pushed himself up only to fall into Yoongi’s lap, cheek pressed to the jeans on Yoongi’s thigh and…

Why was Yoongi wearing jeans?

Tiredly, Jimin hummed as he reached up, brushing his thumb over the material and trying to find the words from where they hid deep in his throat.

It took him longer than it maybe should’ve to acknowledge the foreign weight on his pointer finger, the foreign weight that glinted against the orange glow of the lamp from the nightstand — the ring.

His brow furrowed and he pushed himself up, the item locked in his gaze because that wasn’t his ring. Why was there a ring on his finger? Why —?

He looked up at Yoongi who was watching him carefully, expectantly— nervous.

“Yoongi,” he muttered, finding his voice hoarse beyond all reason as he coughed to try and clear it.

Yoongi reached up to intertwine his hand with Jimin’s, fingers covering Jimin’s ring where… an identical one rested.

“Yoongi,” Jimin tried again, voice much clearer. “What are these?” He shifted his grasp from Yoongi’s to hold Yoongi’s finger, pressing the pads of his fingers over the gold of the ring.

“A promise,” Yoongi said, voice low and gaze shifty. He was nervous, maybe a little unsure.

Jimin tried to assure him with this attention, with a soft look and a nod to continue.

“We have today,” he said. “But if we don’t have tomorrow, then we’ll have someday.” He stared down at the sheets as he said it. “I’ll promise you someday.”

Jimin closed his hands over Yoongi’s, breathless as he stared at him. “Yoongi,” he said between them.

“Was it too much?” Yoongi rushed out. “I- I didn’t plan it,” he continued on. “I just started walking and I saw them. And I know you like marks and remembering so I thought this could be our mark and you could see it and remember and I don’t know maybe it was —.”

“Perfect,” Jimin interrupted. “It was perfect— is perfect. I love you,” he threw that last part in there just cause it felt right.

God, it felt so right.

“I love you too,” Yoongi said almost like he didn’t believe the fact that Jimin had said what he did. Any of it. 

“Someday,” Jimin repeated, holding Yoongi’s hand close to his chest, over his heart. “You’re promising me a someday?”

“Only if you want it,” Yoongi assured.

“I want it,” Jimin said almost jealously, as if afraid it could slip from his ability to have it. He sat up in the covers, becoming aware of the notion that he was just in his boxers as he slid into Yoongi’s lap once more, still holding his hand close. “Do you want mine?” Jimin tilted his head, catching Yoongi’s shocked glance, hanging onto every single one of Jimin’s words. “My promise of someday.”

Yoongi nodded.

“Cause it’s yours,” Jimin smiled. “Always has been yours I think.”

Yoongi’s forehead rested against Jimin’s and he pulled him in close. “I love you, I love you, I love, I love you,” he muttered it over and over and over again and Jimin could only mange a delighted laugh despite the tears welling in his eyes.

“You bought me a ring,” Jimin smiled wide, tears streaming past his cheeks. “Min Yoongi bought me a promise ring.”

Yoongi frowned at the embarrassment of it all.

“You’re so soft,” Jimin pointed out.

Yoongi scowled, “Shut up.”

“I love it,” Jimin insisted. “I love you.” Jimin fiddled with the thin band. “We still have tonight though,” he smiled, reaching up to wipe his own tears away. “What time is it anyways?”

“Seven,” Yoongi nodded. “We have all night.”

Jimin leaned forward and connected their lips. “But first,” he said as they parted. “I’m hungry,” he pouted.

Yoongi laughed, “Okay, what do you want?”



Raiding the small store across the street from the hotel was difficult with how much Yoongi had to remind himself not to touch Jimin. They were in public. He couldn’t pin him against the wall and steal kisses from his smiling lips or hold his hand or run his hand through his hair — no. Because even though there was only a slight chance someone might recognize them here, they couldn’t risk it. They were just friends. Friends grabbing random Japanese snacks to throw into a basket along with an assortment of chocolates and maybe that wasn’t the best dinner, but Jimin was grabbing a bottle of wine from the back wall of fridges and Yoongi really didn’t care if all of this went against their assumed dietary needs.

They stuck to the self-check out, shoving their mochi-balls and inigiri into a plastic bag while Jimin held the bottle of wine and walked back out into the night.

They walked back into the hotel, following the elevator up to their floor, stepping out and seeing Hoseok and Namjoon.

Jimin’s smile dropped away as he pushed the bottle of wine behind his back to hide it.

“Oh, hey,” Hoseok said, catching sight of them. “There you guys are.”

Yoongi realized they had been standing outside their door. 

“We’re going to go get something to eat, maybe find a karaoke place and get smashed. “Come on,” they waved. 

There wasn’t even an invite, just an expectation of coming.

And Yoongi could actually feel the air being stolen from his lungs by disappointment, the type he hadn’t felt since he was a young boy and the world hadn’t yet disappointed him enough to be used to the sick twisting feeling of injustice.

“I’m feeling sick,” Jimin managed out. “I think I’m coming down with something. Hyung and I were just grabbing some noodles and were going to stay in for the night.” His voice was wavering in his own lie and Yoongi hated that he was lying, hated that he had to in order for them to still have tonight.

“I’m so sorry, Jimin,” Hoseok pouted. “We can just have a movie night, stay in and eat ramen, like you said.”

Jimin shook his head, waving his hand. “It’s honestly okay, Hyung. I was just going to go to sleep. There’s no reason for you to cancel your plans so I can fall asleep on you.” Jimin forced a smile and Yoongi could tell its was forced.

“Alright, well, Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon nodded. “Let’s go and let Jimin rest.”

Yoongi caught Jimin tensing beside him.

“I think rooming with Jimin meant he gave me whatever he’s got,” Yoongi shook his head at the younger. “I feel pretty awful too, Joon. Hence the noodles for two.”

Namjoon frowned. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything we can do?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Just go and have fun. We’re fine with staying in. You know I never pass up the opportunity to speak.”

Jimin shuffled past them by turning his back to the wall as the two passed them to the elevator with a, “Get well soon.”

They were gone as Yoongi swiped his card against their door, turning to look at Jimin who was fiddling with the wine bottle, a frown obvious on his face. He knocked Jimin’s arm with his finger to catch the boys attention, nodding into the room for Jimin to follow.

Yoongi dropped the bag of snacks onto the bed and turned back to Jimin as he placed the bottle on the shelf.

“I hate that we lied,” Jimin admitted, shuffling where he stood. “I hate it so much. Hate that we have to.” He leaned against the wall, head falling back to hit the surface as he blinked rapidly a shine in his eyes.

Yoongi stepped up to him, hands bracing on either side of him. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jimin tucked his chin into look at Yoongi. “This,” he pointed between them. “I love this. I want this. I want them to know. But I don’t want to tell them,” he dropped his head forward.

“I understand,” Yoongi nodded. “I really do.”

“But we can’t tell them,” Jimin’s brow furrowed and Yoongi reached to try and soothe out the lines with his thumb. “Because we’re just pretending.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi said sadly, unsure of how to finish that sentence.

Jimin took Yoongi’s hand from where it rubbed his temple to interlock their fingers, rings glinting next to each other. “We’ll tell them someday, won’t we?”

Yoongi nodded. “It never mattered before,” Yoongi admitted. “That’s why I didn’t tell anyone. But it matters now. It’ll matter then. So I’ll tell them.”

Jimin kissed him, arms snaking around his shoulders. “Today. We still have today.”

Yoongi nodded.

“You owe me one more time,” Jimin smiled, the sadness that had held his expression before still lingering, but falling away the longer he held Yoongi’s gaze and held his own smile.

“I thought you wanted chocolate first.”

“Feed it to me.”


Jimin tasted like chocolate and the single glass of red wine they’d had. He tasted like perfection and sunlight and everything Yoongi had ever wanted.

“You’re an alcoholic,”Yoongi said in-between languid kisses as he took the empty glass from Jimin’s fingers and pushed it to the nightstand.

“I am not,” Jimin protested in between more kisses. “It was one glass.”

“I barely sipped mine. You like alcohol too much.”

Jimin frowned, but it was hardly a real frown. “You like alcohol too. If I’m an alcoholic, so are you.”

“We’ll be alcoholics together,” Yoongi said, tugging the collar of Jimin’s shirt down to suck on his collarbones.

Jimin ended up on his back first, Yoongi sheathed inside of him. Yoongi probably should’ve been moving. He was hard as a rock and Jimin’s own member was taunt against his stomach, red with need and Yoongi really wanted to put it directly into his mouth. But he also kinda distracted at the moment, fingers stretching out over Jimin’s skin, traced up to his chin, down to his navel, back up again to his lips. He’d lean in for a kiss, trace Jimin’s side, lean in for another, trace his stomach, his thighs, find every patch of soft skin and pad it with his fingers.

“What are you doing?” Jimin asked after Yoongi did it for an uncountable time.

Yoongi was surprised by Jimin’s silence in the manner. The impatience of their last time seemed to have been replaced by a still acceptance, a waiting desperation as Jimin’s gaze followed Yoongi’s every movement, his own question whispered into the night.

“Memorizing,” Yoongi realized his answer as the word stumbled from his mouth. “Memorizing you.”

Jimin’s lips quirked in half a smile, a shiver running up him when Yoongi traced back down.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jimin assured after a time.

Yoongi assured him with a smile. “But this is.”

“I know,” Jimin nodded. “But I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated.

Yoongi leaned in to kiss him and finally started to move.

Jimin ended up with his stomach pressed to the mattress, Yoongi pressed behind him, arms wrapped tight around Jimin’s midsection, lips tracing over his shoulders as he drove into Jimin, pushed him to the edge and stumbled over his own, a final thrust pushing him as deep in as he could before the rush ran through his veins with Jimin in his arms and his breathing in his ears. 

Yoongi wrapped his lips around Jimin this time. Yoongi pushed two fingers back inside Jimin’s heat, wet from lube and his own cum while the boys mewled as he sucked up and down Jimin’s member, feeling the tip hit the back of Yoongi’s throat until something else was hitting the back of his throat instead and Jimin was calling out his name, arching up and further into Yoongi’s mouth.

Jimin tugged Yoongi up to kiss himself from the older’s mouth and Yoongi was in love with literally every part about him.

“I’m so tired,” Jimin whined. “I’m for tired but I don’t want to go to bed.”

“I don’t want tomorrow either,” Yoongi said.

“We should shower again,” Jimin said. “Or I should at least. You cummed in my ass.”

“Sorry,” Yoongi grumbled, definitely unapologetically. 


Yoongi joined Jimin in the shower again, washing carefully over Jimin’s skin, tracing every mark he left on his thighs, on his hips. It was only then that Yoongi realized Jimin never asked him to bite him. Yoongi kissed his neck instead, careful as he washed the cum from his thighs, the cum from inside Jimin’s ass— careful as Jimin hissed against the feeling, leaning all of his weight on Yoongi.

As Yoongi brushed his teeth, Jimin did so beside him.

Yoongi smiled at the domestically of it. Smiled even more when after Jimin finished, he wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist and rested against his back.

Yoongi kissed him and tasted the toothpaste on his teeth.

In pajamas, with wine in their hands and chocolate between them, they laid on the bed.

Yoongi fed Jimin pieces of chocolate in-between sips of wine and gentle kisses, silence stretching their time as long as it could go, as long as they could make it. But Jimin had never been one for silence, so Yoongi wasn’t surprised when he ended it.

“You think anyone will notice?” He asked as he measured their ringed fingers against each other.

“If they do, we’ll blame coincidence,” Yoongi said. “It’s simple enough it shouldn’t draw any real attention.”

“I love it,” Jimin insisted.

Yoongi smiled at that. “I’m glad.” But soon that smile was fading away and he turned on his side to face the younger. “Hey, Jimin?”

“Hm?” He hummed.

“You said I’m the only guy you’ve been with.”

That caught Jimin’s attention. He captured him in a curious look. “You are,” he assured.

Yoongi shook head. “I’m not accusing you of lying, Jimin.”

“Okay,” Jimin said simply.

“There was just… that one day. When you cried.”

“I cry a lot, Yoongi,” Jimin stretched out, falling to lie down facing Yoongi. “You’re going to have to be more specific.

Yoongi narrowed his gaze under the complete disregard for Hyung, but decided to bring it up later. “You went to the club that one time. Without me.”

“Oh,” Jimin said softly, turning his gaze to the sheets rather than to look at Yoongi.

“I’m not upset,” Yoongi hurried to say. “Or accusing.” He reached to turn Jimin’s chin up to him. “I guess I’m just wondering why,” he gave a small shrug. “I mean, you talked to me back then when you didn’t know it was me. Do you want to talk about it now?”

“I was falling in love with you,” Jimin said, successfully surprising Yoongi as he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling instead of the boy next to him. “And Masked-you looked a lot like you. I kept pretending,” Jimin bit his lip. “Kept pretending it was you. And I was scared.” He brought his hands together and started to twist the band. “I was so scared. Scared that I’d fall in love with you and have to live with that, have to live knowing I couldn’t have you. So I went to the club to prove to myself it was nothing, I guess.” He shrugged. “If I could sleep with someone else, than maybe it didn’t mean anything.”

Yoongi carded his hands through Jimin’s hair, turning the boy’s face to him.

“But then I met the worlds douchiest human instead and… yeah…” He fiddled with his ring some more. “How did you do it for so long?” Jimin asked, trying to laugh, but it just came out forced. “It hurt.”

“It was easier before I met you in that club,” Yoongi admitted. “Pretending made it harder.”

“Tomorrow’s going to suck, isn’t it?” Jimin said weakly.

Yoongi nodded.

“When we fought that one time,” Jimin continued. “That was almost mostly because I was in love with you.” Jimin sighed. “You called me beautiful and I felt like I was drowning because I was in love with you and I thought I could dance it away, but I couldn’t. And then you had to show up,” he shook his head at Yoongi. “Had to rub it in my face that I couldn’t have you.”

Yoongi scooted closer to Jimin, resting his arm to the boy’s waist. “We really did decide to do this the absolute hardest way we could, didn’t we?”

“If we hadn’t,” Jimin said lowly, “met in that club, do you think we’d be here now?”

“No,” Yoongi answered honestly, pushing a strand of hair back from Jimin’s face as the boy failed to hide his displeasure at Yoongi’s answer. “Not here and not now. But I think we would’ve gotten there someday,” he smiled.

“Maybe we could’ve done things in order,” Jimin said.

“Order’s overrated.”

“I can’t believe I accidentally slept with you in a club.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually gay.”

Jimin scoffed a laugh. “I can’t believe you bought me a ring.”

“I can’t believe you accepted it,” Yoongi smiled.

Jimin sighed. “We can do this, right? We can behave and figure this out.”

Yoongi nodded, pulling Jimin in close as their breathing matched. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Someday doesn’t have to be too far away, right?” Jimin’s breath fanned Yoongi’s neck.

“I hope it’s tomorrow,” Yoongi smiled, pressing a kiss to Jimin’s ear. 


It wasn’t tomorrow. Something Jimin was acutely aware as his eyes fluttered open and the world came into focus. It couldn’t be yet. Not when there was a sharp knock on the door and a called reminder to get up and start packing from their manager before the voice faded as footsteps dragged him to a different room.

Yoongi tightened his hold around Jimin’s waist and Jimin started to cry.



Chapter Text

“Why are you lying to me?” Taehyung said as they made their way from the dance studio, gaze resting on his best friend in question. 

Jimin whipped around as the others walked by, Yoongi casting him a concerned look, which Jimin was quick to look away from as the older walked past, sweat still clinging to his brow as his chest heaved from their workout and Jimin really really wanted to reach out to him — had wanted to since the dance lesson had started and Yoongi had looked so focused and so… perfect… 

“What do you mean?” Jimin jerked back to face Taehyung. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other all day when had Jimin lied to him? In fact, they really hadn’t talked much since Japan…

“I asked you,” Taehyung crossed his arms, brow pinched as he kicked his foot to the ground, “if something happened with you and Yoongi in Japan. I asked you that last week after we got back and you told me that nothing did.”

Jimin felt his mouth go dry as he licked out over his lip. “Yeah,” he tried. 

In the back of his mind, he’d been repeating for a while that he was going to tell Taehyung. He was going to do it. Just not now. Not yet. Not when he and Yoongi were still trying to figure everything out. So far, figuring things out seemed to exclusively consist of caution and distance — so, in a way, it felt like they were back at whatever awful step they were in before Japan — but then there were the rings on their fingers and the small smiles Yoongi would offer when their gazes would meet, the soft touches that would rub at Jimin’s sides or shoulders in passing, the kind looks — and Jimin knew it wasn’t much, but it was still something. Still an assurance that they were going to get through this. They just needed more… time.

“Because nothing did happen,” Jimin cringed even as he said it. God, he hated lying.

“You lied,” Taehyung said, tone sad and disappointed and — oh god, he sounded hurt. “You’re still lying. God, Jimin. Do you think I’m an idiot? Yoongi looks like he’s going to combust every time you walk into a room and you, god, you,” he fixed Jimin under a glare. “I thought you said you were trying to get over him. Whatever happened to the masked guy? You know, the guy you won’t talk to me about —.”

“Taehyung —.”

“Are you even still trying? Oh my god, did you and Yoongi like kiss or something?” 

“Taehyung, no!” Jimin jerked around to see if any of the others had heard, but they were already long gone down the hall. “It’s nothing like that,” Jimin twisted his hands together. It was exactly like that. That and then some.

“Then what the hell is going on? I’m not the only one who’s noticed. You and Yoongi have been weird. I heard Seokjin-Hyung and Namjoon-Hyung talking about it yesterday. They’re worried about you. Everyone is worried about you and I thought you’d talk to me, but you just… aren’t.”

Jimin had to say something, right? Anything. He wasn’t sure what though. The truth was too much, too hard to explain. 

Jimin must’ve hesitated too long because Taehyung was scoffing, pushing himself up and shaking his head at Jimin. “Whatever, Jimin. Let me know when you want to be friends again or whatever.”

“Taehyung,” Jimin grabbed his arm to keep him from stalking off.

“Did I do something?” Taehyung whipped around. “Because, I only ever supported you, right?” There was insecurity bleeding into his tone. “I didn’t want you to go back to that club, but I supported you. Was that not good enough?”

“It’s not like that, Tae,” Jimin assured. “I promise. I’m just figuring some stuff out.”

Taehyung tugged his arm from Jimin’s hold. “Why do you always think you have to do everything alone?” He turned around and walked away.


Yoongi had really just needed to grab something from his studio. Shampoo actually. He always kept extra bottles in his studio for the days when he just wouldn’t leave. But he’d run out at their home so he was just going to steal his from the studio while they were already there after practice. Simple. Easy. It was supposed to take like five seconds.

Except, as Yoongi grabbed the bottle and turned to leave, Jimin was pushing his way in, closing the door behind him and looking at Yoongi like he was about to cry.

“What happened?” Yoongi immediately asked, dropping the lousy bottle down to the table as he stepped forward, already opening his arms as Jimin pushed forward to basically collapse into them. 

It was an odd sensation, touching Jimin after a week of being so cautious not to. Like there had been a flame lit under his skin, an insistent buzzing, or numb pain, and just like that — with the simple act of Jimin wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s torso — the feeling had just died, replaced by a soothing calm. It made the older pull the younger in closer, made him hold him tighter.

“What is it?” Yoongi repeated soothingly, carding his hand through Jimin’s hair. The younger boy's was still exposed from their workout, wearing only his sweats and flimsy white tank-top (that had driven Yoongi insane by the way). It made it easier for Yoongi to guide his thumb over Jimin’s shoulder, touching skin anywhere he could reach.

“Taehyung,” the boy finally muttered like a sigh, breath ghosting against Yoongi’s neck as he remained in his arms, making absolutely no effort to push back. “I’ve been lying to him and he knows.”

“About us?” Yoongi clarified.

“About us.”

Yoongi tightened his hold, guilt swooping into his chest. He’d never been good at lying to the others, hence why Jin and Namjoon knew. Even with the younger members, Yoongi seriously doubted that if any of them had come up to him in that time period and asked him, “Hey, do you like dudes?” he would’ve been able to continue to pretend. Whenever talk of relationships and intimate things like kissing, or more explicit material, Yoongi usually kept himself contained, only answering when asked, and keeping his answers as simple as he could. Like when Taehyung had once set him with an unwavering stare and asked, “What about you, Hyung?” after Seokjin — the traitor — had talked about some girls he’d had experience within his early college days as a message of warning to the younger members about safety and clarity and other useless stuff. Yoongi had simply answered, stone faced, “I’ve never slept with a girl.” And that seemed to be enough for them, Seokjin casting him a warning glance that Yoongi had never actually managed to decipher.

“You could tell him,” Yoongi said then, feeling the panic already heating his chest at the thought of Kim Taehyung knowing. Oh, god. If he knew, how much longer until all of them knew. Would Taehyung hate him? Would he stop talking to him? Would he refuse to share a room with him now? Or —

“No I can’t,” Jimin pushed pack then, still keeping close, his hands clasped together behind Yoongi’s neck in a very non-platonic manner, amplified by Yoongi’s hands holding tightly to the younger’s hips. If someone walked in, how obvious would it be? Would they even have a shot at denying anything?

“Why not?” Yoongi tried to keep the panic from his voice. It wasn’t fair to lie to Taehyung — it especially isn’t fair to ask Jimin to lie to Taehyung. Technically, they really shouldn’t have started lying to any of the members. 

“We haven’t figured us out,” Jimin replied weakly, shuffling his feet against the ground, kicking against Yoongi’s shoed toes as uncertainty bowed his head from Yoongi’s gaze. “If it ends before we figure this out, there might not be anything to return to later.”

“What’s there to figure out, Min-ah?” Yoongi let his grip slide from Jimin’s hips, stepping away from the younger to lock his studio door (you know, just in case), before taking the younger’s hand to lead him to sit on the studio’s couch. “I love you, you love me. I want to be with you and it will happen someday.”

“You say that,” Jimin sighed.

Yoongi took Jimin’s hand to intertwine his fingers. “We’re really bad at the talking thing, aren’t we?” 

Jimin looked up at him.

“How long has this been bothering you?” Yoongi twisted the finger on Jimin’s finger. “Since this?” He asked.

Jimin nodded. “Aren’t you worried?” The younger twisted to face Yoongi, pulling his hand into his lap and fiddling with the older’s fingers to avoid looking at his face as he went on. “The future’s so unsure. What if we never get a chance? Or what if we do, but you don’t… want me anymore,” Jimin finished.

“Jimin,” Yoongi was ready to denounce the accusation.

Jimin met his gaze, stopping him short. “And you can’t say that would never happen, be cause you don’t know. Neither of us know what’s going to happen. And I want this,” he jostled their intertwined hands for clarification. “I want what we had in Japan. I want to wake up next to you and kiss you whenever I want. I want you, Yoongi. And even if I will always want you, what if life has other plans.”

“Other plans like what?” Yoongi tried.

Jimin sighed, dropping their hands against the couch, his grip tightening. “Like — okay,” he interrupted himself, shifting to turn completely on the couch, legs tucked under him as he looked at Yoongi. “We’ve had sex, right?”

“Yeah. I was there, remember?” Yoongi tried.

Jimin cast him an unamused stare before continuing. “We’ve been friends too, right? We’ve lived together, we’ve fought, we’ve made out, we’ve held hands, we’ve —.”

“I get it,” Yoongi nodded along. “We’ve done a lot. What is your point, Min-ah?”

“We’ve never dated,” Jimin said with a shrug that sagged his shoulders when the motion came down. “I mean, it is different, right? Different from just being friends and just being… whatever the hell we are now,” he finished with a weak laugh. “What if the time comes, but we’re just not… good together like that?”

Yoongi frowned, staring down at their hands. “I love you, Jimin. Isn’t that enough?”

“Lots of people love each other and it doesn’t work, Hyung.” Yoongi’s gaze darted up under the honorific. Jimin had almost completely foregone using honorifics when it was just them — when it was just them like this. “I want it to work,” Jimin nodded. “I need to know it’ll work, you know.”

Yoongi stared down at their connected filangzees, their intertwined fingers, pressed together palms — the simple rings that reflected on each of their pointer finger’s (not the ring finger out of fear of being too obvious, but Yoongi had kinda hoped to change that someday).

“Hyung?” Jimin tilted his head after a long moment of Yoongi just watching where they touched, tilting his head to meet the older’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” Jimin shrunk back. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, I —.”

“No,” Yoongi jerked to face him, interrupting him as the boy’s shocked expression met his own. “Don’t apologize.” Yoongi offered a sighed smile, “We’re bad enough at this whole communication thing without apologies. Besides, you shouldn’t have to apologize for how you feel.”

Yoongi sighed, leaning back and collapsing against the couch, watching Jimin as he did so. “I feel like I should know what to do,” Yoongi sighed. “I’m the Hyung. I feel like you’re watching me, waiting for me to make a step so you can do it too. And I should know what to do. But I just,” he shrugged, jostling Jimin’s arm in turn, “don’t. I have no idea what to do. And I’m so so scared of screwing it up that I keep just defaulting to doing nothing at all. There’s not a manual for this, you know. And we’ve got so much to lose.”

Jimin nodded in understanding, cupping the back of Yoongi’s hand with his free one, leaning his shoulder to the back of the couch. Yoongi turned to face Jimin, pulling his own legs onto the couch. “You deserve better than this, you know.”

Jimin furrowed his brow, shaking his head against the couch, the fabric adding static to strands of his hair, making them stand up at the movement. 

Yoongi smiled at the sight, reaching his free hand to comb the strands back into place. “I want to do right by you, Jimin,” he let his hand trace down Jimin’s face, reaching to his jaw where he held, his thumb and forefinger cupping the bend. “I’m going to do right by you. I promise. And then we’ll tell the others. All of them,” he nodded. “And we’ll do it together.”

Panic was dancing in Jimin’s gaze, but Yoongi could see him pushing it down, fighting it back under the last phrase Yoongi muttered. 

“And then what?” Jimin cautiously breathed into the space between them.

“I’ll ask for permission to be with you.”

Jimin took a sharp breath. “And if they say no?”

“We’ll respect their wishes,” Yoongi said even as his chest twisted at the thought, a cringe pinching his brow. “It’s their careers and lives we’re messing with too, after all. We’ll behave and wait until someday.”

“And if they say yes?” Jimin asked, the hope that bled into his voice impossible to ignore as Yoongi shifted closer, filling in the space between them until he could feel the younger’s warmth. “Then you’ll be mine.”

Jimin closed his eyes and leaned forward, closing the distance. No lips connected though. Foreheads touched and Jimin’s small hands twisted form Yoongi’s grasp to come and cup the older’s face, holding him close, thumbs brushing over cheeks and lips. Jimin held them like that for a long moment, before slipping closer and wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s neck.

And Yoongi wanted to kiss him. Wanted to pull him in so very bad.

But he’d promised to do right by the boy. And that needed to start five months ago. Yoongi twisted to press his face to the crook of the boy’s neck, breathing in his musk. Better late than never he supposed.


Yoongi felt stupid. But it was a giddy kind of stupid. The kind of stupid that makes you even more reckless because he’d never done something like this before. But he’d never felt this way before. She he’d had interests and crushes, but he’d never felt like he would be willing to trade everything for another person. And it was terrifying and intense, bu that didn’t waive the smile from his face as he dropped the single rose and the chocolate bar — the kind he knew was Jimin’s favorite— on the counter as he fished for his wallet to pay for the two items.

He kept the items hidden in the paper bag as he walked back home. The cold cold of the latte hour of night wrapped around him like a snake, the chilled wind sneaking through his clothes. But his smile remained.

It was odd to consider that just a few months ago, had Yoongi found himself out this late at night, he’d probably be heading to InvisibleColors, probably heading out to meet Jimin without even realizing it. Yoongi was still out to meet Jimin, hoping the young boy was where he left him, reading silently on the couch, but there was something so different about everything that Yoongi could feel it in the air that he breathed.

The pining, the wanting, the trying to smother his own feelings, it was gone, replaced by a lightness in his shoulders. He’d catch sight of the simple ring glinting against Jimin’s finger as the younger boy moved through his simple life tasks, and Yoongi would just think mine. If not today, than someday. And somehow that made everything feel just a little bit better, just a little bit easier. 

Yoongi just had to no mess I up.

It was late enough that Yoongi wasn’t surprised that him and Jimin were the only ones still awake. That was how it usually seemed to pan out. Jimin at the studio or curled up with a book and Yoongi restlessly completing any task, embracing any distraction to avoid going to sleep because he didn’t want to close his eyes and have tomorrow there so soon when the night was so quiet.

Jimin was where he left him, barely offering Yoongi a welcoming smile before he was pulling the book back up to his face from where he’d sprawled out over the couch. Loose sleep wear and his sleepy face making him look soft and young.

Yoongi fished his purchase from the paper bag, doing nothing to cover the sounds, but Jimin’s attention was stolen by another item, the book in his hand as his brow furrowed at whatever he was reading in the simple white glow casted from the lamp beside him. Yoongi placed the two items on the side table as he leaned over the younger, finally catching his attention.

Jimin tilted his head at him as if to ask, What?

“Sit up.” Yoongi said.

Jimin grunted as he sat up, still holding the book in his grasp as he watched Yoongi who lowered himself down to the place where Jimin’s head had been resting, crossing his legs under him. Yoongi opened his arms welcomingly and Jimin sunk back down into place, sighing out as his head rested against the older’s shoulder. Yoongi’s arms came around him and Jimin shifted his hold on his book to latch his fingers against Yoongi’s fiddling with them distractedly as Jimin continued to follow the lines written in his book.

Yoongi held Jimin close, leaning his chin to the younger’s shoulder. “Whatcha reading?” He drawled.

Jimin snorted amused as he finally closed the book, marking his place with a ripped piece of paper. He placed it aside and fell further against Yoongi, shuffling down until he could look up at the older’s face. “Does somebody want attention?” Jimin teased.

Yoongi lightly flicked against Jimin’s forehead, “No,” he denied as Jimin beamed at him, laughing sweetly.

“Where’d you go?” Jimin asked then, fingers tracing up and down Yoongi’s arm, catching on the folds in his jacket.

“Store,” Yoongi responded simply, their words quiet in the still night.

Jimin hummed, face twisting with curiosity and Yoongi knew he was debating on whether or not to press it further.

Yoongi pressed a kiss to the top of Jimin’s head, shaking his arm from Jimin’s grip as he reached behind him for the single rose and the chocolate. He placed them in Jimin’s lap with a flutter in his own chest.

Jimin started under the sudden gift, fingers wrapping around the rose as he sat up and twisted, facing Yoongi while still remaining blissfully within Yoongi’s personal space. “Yoongi,” Jimin said, flustered. “What are these?”

“Go on a date with me,” Yoongi said simply, words curt but blooming with affection, barely leaving room for argument.

Even in the dim light, Yoongi could see the flush coloring Jimin’s cheeks as he whispered out a, “What?”

“Date,” Yoongi repeated. “With me. Date me.”

Jimin turned his gaze down, twirling the rose between his fingers. “How though?”

“Are you asking me how to date someone?” Yoongi jostled Jimin’s arm, trying to shake the worry from his expression.

“Yoongi,” Jimin said sadly. “We’re us. We can’t just —.”

“We’re us,” Yoongi interrupted. “That’s why we can get away with it.” Yoongi smiled softly. “We’ll have to tone it down, of course. But, we’ll cover up, sneak away, make excuses to the members. I’ll take you somewhere, yeah? Somewhere we can get lost in the crowd. If anyone recognizes us, they’ll just think it’s us being us. Just two bros,” Yoongi jostled Jimin’s arm, the younger struggling to stifle his smile against Yoongi’s English slang. “being bros. Hanging out. Like we always do.”

Jimin chuckled, falling to lean against Yoongi’s shoulder.

Yoongi accompanied the boy easily into his arms, rubbing at the juncture of Jimin’s shoulder. 

“We can get away with it?” Jimin pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, blinking up at Yoongi.

“I think we can pull it off,” Yoongi confirmed.

Jimin reached o hold the curve of Yoongi’s neck, tracing his thumb from Yoongi’s chin down his throat. “What’s the end goal with this, Hyung?”

“Exactly what we talked about,” Yoongi assured. “Wee’ll see if we’re compatible, see if we can do this right. If we can, we ask for permission. If we can, we take the next step.”

“The next step,” Jimin repeated uncertainly, a sigh heaving his chest.

“Let me do right by you, Chim-ah,” Yoongi squeezed the boy in his arms. “I want to try. Even if it fails, I want to know we at least tried.”

Jimin pulled back from Yoongi’s hold, remaining dangerously within Yoongi’s bubble of personal space as he held Yoongi’s face under his careful gaze. “Ask me again,” Jimin smiled. “Ask me out again.”

Yoongi narrowed his gaze teasingly. Interlocking their hands and pushing against their grip as he leaned even closer to Jimin. “Jimin-ah, would you go on a date with me?”

“Yes,” Jimin answered immediately, barely waiting for Yoongi to finish.


“Yeah,” Jimin nodded.

Yoongi beamed at him.

“Where are we going?” Jimin asked.

“That’s a surprise.” Yoongi leaned back against the arm of the couch, slouching back into a comfortable position. “Friday afternoon, tell the others your taking a personal day. We’ll leave from the station together. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Fine,” Jimin agreed, his smile tugging at his lips even as he tried to send Yoongi a look of mirth. “But I get to take you out on our next date.”

“Already planning a next date?” Yoongi teased. “What if I’m an awful date?”

“You won’t be,” Jimin assured, carefully taking his simple gifts back in hand as he leaned back against Yoongi’s chest, sinking back into his hold. “Besides,” Jimin twisted the ring around Yoongi’s finger. “You bought me a ring. There’s going to bee a second date.”

Yoongi pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You can keep reading if you want,” he assured.

“It’s okay,” Jimin assured. 

“I don’t mind,” Yoongi nudged him. “I’m fine just staying like this.”

Jimin Brough Yoongi’s hand up to kiss the older’s knuckles before leaning forward to collect his book. He fell back into Yoongi’s hold, earning a grunt and a displeased glance as he shimmied until he was comfortable again. Yoongi’s arm hung languidly over Jimin’s chest, the older’s head rested to the back of the couch as he traced patterns over the boys arms, remaining in the still silence of the night. The still silence that they could exist in like this. Just like this. No hiding, no sneaking, no lies — just here, with each other, in each others arms.

Yoongi didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke up on the couch still, though there was a pillow under his head and a comforter over his body. Jimin wasn’t there, probably wasn’t willing to risk getting caught in the morning, but Yoongi still found a smile tugging over his lips at the thought that Jimin had tucked him in like this. It was that thought that made it easier for Yoongi to roll back over and fall immediately back into slumber.


Jimin had never been taken on a date. He’d dated in high school where he’d taken a young girl he’d been very fond of at the time out on many endeavors. He’d tried to date a couple of times as an idol, but it was always rushed and more often than not about getting to the sex than any actual meaning or relationship. Still, he had never been taken on a date and he found himself obnoxiously giddy as he stuffed his hands in his over-sized sweatshirt and jogged to keep up with Yoongi’s steady pace from the subway station.

“Where are we going?” Jimin nudged the older, asking the question for the umpteenth time.

“Ask me again and the answer will be home,” Yoongi drawled.

Jimin latched onto Yoongi’s arm. Yoongi let out a disgruntled grunt, but Jimin didn’t miss the smile tugging at hi lips as he kept his gaze ahead. Jimin was in love with that grumpy smile. 

But Jimin never expected Yoongi to take him to an aquarium. As he older shuffled to the stand to buy tickets, Jimin stood back, staring at the large building before turning his confused and amazed gaze towards his bandmate. 

When Yoongi returned to his side, Jimin was still staring.

“What?” Yoongi said.

“I love you,” Jimin smiled wide, making his ticket from the older.

Yoongi immediately flushed, though he tried to hide it, turning his gaze down to the ground. “Yah. You’re not supposed to say that on a first date.”

Jimin beamed wider, taking Yoongi’s arm and moving towards the entrance. “I can’t believe you took me to an aquarium. That’s so cute. You’re so cute, Hyung.”

Yoongi waved him off, but that sly smile was still tugging at his lips. 

Jimin stumbled through the gate behind him, face masks tugged over his face, Yoongi the same beside him, their matching black caps further hiding them in the small crowd gathered in the place.

They started at a distance, meandering past exhibits, but as they stopped to watch the dolphin show, Jimin slipped his hand in Yoongi’s. Their hold remained past the fish tanks and the pool of turtles, up the escalator existing under a roof of sea life dancing above them. Jimin couldn’t tug the smile from his face, even as they spoke of their week and the stresses of their unique work, being interrupted by themselves as they discussed the aquatic life around them.

It felt a lot like they were normal. Almost. Maybe. 

Jimin dragged Yoongi into the men’s bathroom to sneak a couple of kisses before they moved back out into the crowds simply to disappear. 

They spent an hour in the food court, just outside a cute cafe with pastries designed like aquatic animals. Jimin and Yoongi essentially did almost everything together. Their lives had been so intertwined for so many years that it had almost seemed strange to have to come up with something to talk about with him that they hadn’t talked about before.

But it was different. Everything seemed different. And sitting and talking to Yoongi was one of the easiest things in the world. Easy enough that they just sat there and spoke for well over an hour, continuing their conversation as they meandered through the last few exhibits before exiting the aquarium.

“Did I do good?” Yoongi asked, hand still holding Jimin’s where it swung between them, a soft smile on his face .

“Wonderful,” Jimin encouraged. “Best date I’ve ever been on.”

Yoongi’s grin widened, showing off his gums as he ducked his head. “Would you like to do this again sometime?” He followed up almost snuggly as he looked to Jimin.

“Yes, but I get to take you out this time.”

Yoongi fell asleep on the subway going back home, hand still in Jimin’s as he head leaned to the younger’s shoulder. Jimin sat content as the jostling of the moving vehicle continued.

Hand in Yoongi’s, Jimin traced over each of the older’s fingers, feeling his own drowsiness start to steal him as their stop approached. 


Jimin planned their next date, taking Yoongi to a nice restaurant in Gangnam. To Yoongi, it felt perfectly right. Perfectly as it should be. Except for the part where they were hiding the whole thing from their friends.

After their fourth date, Yoongi posed the question as they returned to their home in the night, late enough that the others should be asleep. Yoongi hoped they were asleep. It was getting harder to come up with excuses for all of this.

“So,” Yoongi swung his step to turn to Jimin, halting him on the sidewalk. “We’ve confused, we’ve dated, we’ve kissed, we’ve done … other things.”

Jimin nudged him. 

“Do you want to try to be more? Do you want to tell the others?”

Jimin took a deep breath, shoving his pockets deep into his pockets. “Yes, but… not yet.”

“Not yet?” Yoongi repeated.

“Yeah,” Jimin looked at him.

“When then, Jimin?” Yoongi asked, feeling a weight settle over his shoulders.

“Next week. I want to go on one more date,” Jimin nodded, determination in his voice. 


“Yeah,” he nodded with a heavy sigh. 

Yoongi nodded, taking Jimin’s hand as he continued on down the road.

“But, first,” Jimin tugged Yoongi’s arm to stop him. 

The older turned to face Jimin as he cupped Yoongi’s face and pulled him in for a kiss. It was short, but desperate, separated by a sharp sound as Yoongi regained their distance. “Jimin, we can’t out here.”

Jimin pouted at him. “Studio,” he said.

Yoongi sighed, but it was exactly where they ended up.

Yoongi had never been more grateful for the couch in his studio than he was with Jimin pressed down on it under him.

“We can’t do anything,” Yoongi managed in between desperate kisses.

“Chill,” Jimin retorted, letting his head fall back to the cushion as he traced patterns over Yoongi’s chin. “I'm not going to have sex with you. Just make out with me.”

“So demanding,” Yoongi criticized even as he leaned down to comply.

“I do miss the sex,” Jimin complained as Yoongi latched onto his neck.

Yoongi snorted a laugh. “We agreed to do things right this time.”

“I know,” Jimin insisted. “But we’ve gone on like four dates. That at least warrants like a hand job or something.”

“You’re insatiable.” Yoongi shook his head, even as he found himself sitting back to comply.


Jimin and Yoongi fell asleep on the couch, curled up against each other in the limited space and feeling absolutely satisfied. They woke up in the later hours of the morning, Yoongi groaning under Jimin jostling him awake. Jimin peppered his face with small kisses until Yoongi finally sat up.

“Come on,” Jimin shook his shoulder. “We have to get back before the others come looking for us.”

Yoongi grumbled something incomprehensible as Jimin tossed the older his shirt, kicking the boys shoes towards him. 

Yoongi sat up, rubbing his hand over his face as he complied. 

“You’re cute when you’re sleepy,” Jimin beamed at him.

“Don’t feel cute,” Yoongi grumbled.

Jimin pushed Yoongi, the older’s back hitting the back of the couch as Jimin sat on the couch, swinging a leg over Yoongi’s lap to settle down there. Jimin pecked Yoongi’s cheeks and forehead. “Cute,” he assured.

Yoongi’s grip settled around Jimin’s waist, holding the boy tight as he moved to capture Jimin’s lips softly between his own.

Neither one of them really heard the door, not until it was closing with a soft click and an audible, “Oh,” followed into the room.

Jimin jumped from Yoongi’s lap, stumbling to sit against the couch beside Yoongi; eyes blown wide and panicked as he looked straight at Jungkook.

“I, uh,” Jungkook started, looking just as startled and maybe a little… scared. Why was he scared. “I,” Jungkook pointed to the door behind him, breathing coming in a small gasp like he couldn’t catch it. “You guys never came home. Namjoon asked me to see if Yoongi was here. Um,” he looked back at them then. “Just come home,” he blurted out, turning to the door.

“Jungkook, wait,” Yoongi stood.

Jungkook pushed his way out the door, not turning back as he basically sprinted from the room and down the hall. Yoongi stumbled around the door, Jungkook already around then ext corner before he could even step past the threshold.

Yoongi whipped back to Jimin.

Panicked tears were already welling when Jimin put a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, he hates us.”

“No,” Yoongi rushed to say, hurrying back to Jimin’s side. “No, he doesn’t. He’s just… surprised.”  Yoongi whipped back to the door, running a hand through his hair until it stuck up.

“He’s going to tell them,” Jimin gasped next, feeling the air slowly slip from his lungs.

“We have to go home,” Yoongi nodded. “Right now.” Yoongi cupped Jimin’s cheeks and took a deep breath. “Are you okay to go home?”

Jimin dropped his own hand and nodded. He managed a laugh, but it was weak. “So much for that last date, huh?”

Yoongi kissed Jimin’s forehead, standing up to help him to his feet.


“Why do you think he ran away like that?” Jimin asked, his own nerves threatening to strangle him. “He just took off.”

“He was surprised.” Yoongi repeated.

Jimin held the older’s hand tight. “What if everything changes?”

“It won’t,” Yoongi assured, but his words were tight, not just there to try and convince Jimin. “Besides,” he took a deep breath. “Maybe he won’t tell them. Maybe we’ll still have another date.”

“He looked so scared,” Jimin said, lip quivering as he blinked back tears. He tried to force it back.  

Yoongi didn’t have anything to say to that.

Jimin took a deep breath before entering their apartment, Yoongi just behind him. He half expected all of the others to be waiting for him, maybe angry, hurt, confused — honestly, who knew. The other half of his expected normal morning chaos and a hiding Jungkook. It was the second scenario he got, and despite knowing it was a possibility, he still couldn’t help but be surprised.

“You’re back,” Hoseok yelled, scampering across the living space. He brow furrowed a moment later as he posed. “Where the hell were you guys anyways?”

“We were both out late,” the lie fell easily off Jimin’s tongue. “So we just slept in Yoongi’s studio.” Okay. Maybe it was a half truth.

“Where’s Jungkook?” Yoongi asked.

“He ran in here a moment ago,” Namjoon commented, sauntering from the hallway. “Jin sent him after you guys. You didn’t yell at him or something?” He looked concerned.

“No,” Yoongi and Jimin said together.

“I think he’s in the kitchen,” Hoseok supplied.

“Has anyone seen my belt?” Taehyung ran from the hallway, bumping Namjoon as he dove to the floor to look under the couch. 

“Guys, we have to go, like now,” Namjoon sighed, crossing his arms at the scene in front of them.

"He hasn’t told," Yoongi nudged Jimin, muttering the statement.

“What do we do?” Jimin whispered.

“We get ready and talk to Jungkook later.”


Jungkook wouldn’t look at them. Yoongi had tried three times to talk to the boy, had even grabbed his arm as they walked through the halls of BigHit to make it to their meeting. Jungkook had just shook him off, hurrying away and ignoring Yoongi’s, “we need to talk.”

“Is something wrong with you and Jungkook?” Namjoon pulled Yoongi aside to ask him as they headed to return to their cars after the meeting had commenced. “Are you sure you didn’t fight or something?”

“I’ll fix it,” Yoongi assured.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon started.

“I said I’ll fix it,” Yoongi said, pushing away from Namjoon to get to the car.

In fact, it wasn’t until they had gotten home that Yoongi was able to catch Jungkook and it was literally because Jimin was at the other exist and they were basically cornering him in the limited space. He looked between the two, genuinely looking like he was going to body check Yoongi to get out when Jimin stepped forward and grabbed his arm, hugging it close. “Jungkook, wait, please,” he begged.

Looking like a caged rabbit, Jungkook frowned down at Jimin, jaw clenching.

“Look,” Yoongi stepped forward, peering cautiously to make sure the others were out of hearing range. “Jungkook, what you saw — it’s not like that. It’s…” Yoongi sighed. “Jimin and I—.”

Jungkook glared cutting Yoongi off.

“Do you hate us?”Jimin asked timidly.

Jungkook looked at Jimin a bit shocked, tugging away from the shorter’s grip. “What the hell, Hyung? I don’t hate you.”

“Then —.”

“How could you guys be so selfish?” Jungkook interrupted, chest heaving as he looked between them.

“What?” Jimin tried.

“I don’t know what the hell that was,” he gestured behind him, “but how could you do that?”

“Do what exactly?” Yoongi asked, growing defensive as he looked at the kid he easily considered to be his brother.

“Make a mess of everything,” Jungkook looked like he was about to start crying. “I mean,” he took a deep breath. “I know you’re gay, Hyung,” Jungkook muttered, looking down.

“You what?” Yoongi dropped his arms. “How the hell —?”

“I heard you talking to Seokjin once,” Jungkook seemed to shrink in on himself. “And I get it, okay. Like. I don’t care that you’re… that. But Jimin, Hyung?” He gestured out to him. “You can’t just threaten the whole group because you wanted to kiss someone,” the younger boy’s face flushed as he grew aggravated, voice raising as he waved his hand.

“Jungkook,” Yoongi stumbled over his words in his shock.

“No,” Jungkook stepped back. “I won’t tell anyone. So, don’t worry about it. But I’m still angry at you.”

Jungkook turned then, walking straight passed Jimin and into the living space where the others were all gathered, discussing the schedule for the next couple days with Namjoon. From what Jimin had caught onto it, Hoseok was trying to find time within the next week to visit his sister.

Jimin turned to Yoongi.

“I can’t believe he thinks —,” Yoongi started.

Jimin interrupted him by pulling Yoongi in, connecting them in a long kiss.

“Why’d you do that?” Yoongi muttered into the space between them as the separated.

“Someday, right?” Jimin smiled at Yoongi.

“Of course.”

Another soft peck met Yoongi’s cheek before Jimin was moving, walking out of the kitchen with a purpose in his step as Yoongi’s hurried to follow.

Jungkook was as the threshold, shoving his feet into his shoes as Namjoon was trying to ask him where he was going without getting more than a, “somewhere,” from the agitated younger.

“Jungkook, wait,” Jimin said, stopping in the space between the living room and the door.

Jungkook looked at him.

Jimin took a deep breath, gaze darting to the rest of his band before landing back on Jungkook. “Jungkook, I’m gay.”


Instagram: @quadenomen

Chapter Text

Yoongi stumbled in his own shock as Jimin words slit through the air and changed everything in half a second. Yoongi’s shock, however; did not seem to compare to the other’s as the Hoseok’s face morphed to an O shaped expression, a loud crash following immediately afterward as Namjoon tripped directly over the coffee table, knocking the mug that had once sat on top it directly to the ground where it shattered into at least a thousand pieces.

Even Taehyung, who knew, just blinked at his friend in agape awe while Seokjin was jerking to stare wide-eyed at Yoongi and Jungkook — Jungkook just looked like his ancestors had been offended by Jimin’s outburst.

“You’re — you’re what?” Hoseok managed, straightening as he looked at Jimin, eyes darting to Namjoon as if expecting the taller to take the lead.

Jimin opened and closed his mouth a couple times, seeming to be unable to find words. Yoongi moved from the kitchen entrance, towards the younger, ready to stand beside him and comfort him and do whatever needed to be done.

“Gay?” Jimin repeated, cringing as he ran his hand up the nape of his neck, word unsure.

“Gay,” Jin repeated. “As in you like —.”

“Boys, yeah?”

“How— um,” Jin cleared his throat. “How long have you known?”

“A couple months.”

“I knew,” Taehyung said. “He told me already.”

Hoseok pouted. 

Jungkook stepped hesitantly from the door, staring with uncertainty in his gaze from Jimin to Yoongi.

“I also knew,” Namjoon admitted. “But he didn’t tell me. I just kinda assumed after a … conversation we had.” He nodded once at Jimin who gave a nod of acknowledgment. 

“Jimin,” Jin said with sympathy pitching his voice to a whine. “How did you find out?” He took a careful seat on the couch, looking at the others as if directing them to the same.

“That’s …uh,” Jimin almost looked at Yoongi, almost. Yoongi watched the boys eyes widen a hair as he caught the motion, shifting to try and catch it as he turned back to Jin. “That’s … uh, that’s where things get … a little…” Jimin scratched at his head, muttering the last word, “complicated.”

“Complicated, how?” Namjoon asked carefully, sinking to sit down by Jin. 

Jimin clasped his hands together, clearing his throat. “I guess,” he took a deep breath. “I kinda knew there was something wrong with me for awhile.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw. He wanted to interrupt, correct the flawed statement, but this was Jimin’s moment.

The boy looked awkward standing in the middle of his friends shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“But, I,” Jimin swayed. “Figured it wasn’t important enough to figure out. I mean, I had a girlfriend when I was in high school, but I never wanted to do anything,” he was rambling then. “But I thought that it was normal cause I was still young, but then I wasn’t so young anymore and I kept trying with other girls and I-I hated it when — and I—.”

Yoongi pushed up from the wall to hug the boy who looked ready to cry, but Hoseok was there first, koalaing him like a leech, “Jiminie,” he assured. “It’s okay. It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Taehyung was stepping closer to, the uncertainty that had filled his features moving away to concern.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin said then, almost breathlessly. “I really tried not to be.”

“Aw, Jimin,” Seokjin stood up to wrap his arms around Jimin too. “It’s okay. We don’t care about this kind of stuff. Right?” He pulled back to look at the others.

“Yeah,” Namjoon said. “You already know how I feel. And obviously, Jin and Seok don’t care. I know Yoongi doesn’t,” he cleared his throat, casting an awkward look Yoongi’s way which was not subtle. “And Tae knew, so I figure he’s fine, right?”

Taehyung bobbed his head to nod.

“And, Jungkook?” Namjoon gestured to him.

Jimin and Yoongi both looked to him, the younger boy crossing his arms under their gazes. “I don’t care that you’re gay, Hyung.” He said flatly, voice almost cold.

Namjoon’s brow furrowed at that. 

“See, we don’t care,” Jin pulled back, holding Jimin’s arms.

When Jin pulled back Yoongi could see that tears were swimming in the younger eyes, his lip wobbling as he tried to hide his face. It ached to see him cry like this.

“We love you,” Jin cupped Jimin’s face, pushing his cheeks together. “All of you. This doesn’t change that.”

Jimin’s face crumpled and he fell against Jin as the taller wrapped him up in a hug, fingers tracing the exposed skin of his nape in a soothing matter.

Namjoon stood to put a hand on Jimin’s shoulder.

“Jiminie, is this why you’ve been acting so strange lately?”

Jimin nodded, straightening away from Jin to tip at his face. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You should’ve told us,” Namjoon reprimanded softly. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I was so scared,” Jimin’s eyes widened as he started to defend. “And I wasn’t even one hundred percent sure for awhile. So I figured it was stupid to maybe ruin everything when —.”

“You wouldn’t have ruined everything,” Hoseok interrupted to say.

“But I didn’t know that,” Jimin shrugged, wiping furiously at his eyes.

“What made you one hundred percent sure?” Jungkook asked, a scoff almost in his voice. 

“Guys,” Yoongi interrupted then. He looked hesitantly to Taehyung who was remaining uncharacteristically quiet. “I guess I also have something to kind of admit.”

Namjoon blinked at him surprised.

Yoongi took a deep breath. “I mean, Namjoon knows. And Jin knows. And Jimin knows.” He sighed, “And I guess Jungkook also knows because he overheard Jin and me talking.” He cast a look at Jungkook who closed his mouth.

Jimin nodded encouragingly, holding out his hand until Yoongi stepped close enough to be pulled into the midst of the circle that had formed.

Yoongi scratched its head, turning to Taehyung and Hoseok. “So I guess I’m not nearly as great at having a secret as I thought I was, and I really only have to tell you two.” He took a deep breath. “I’m also gay, you know, by the way.” He bit at his lip and took a step back from them as both their eyes widened.

Hoseok immediately barreled forward, grabbing Yoongi by the arms. “You’re gay too!” He demanded.

Over his shoulder, Yoongi could see Taehyung’s widened expression turn directly onto Jimin, some secret, quiet conversation happening between their two gazes.

“I cannot believe you just stole Jimin’s thunder like that,” Jin crossed his arms.

“No, it’s okay,” Jimin assured. “We talked about it. We wanted to come out together.”

“You knew?” Jin asked Jimin. “Since when?”

“Uhhh,” Jimin looked to Yoongi. “It’s a little… complicated. I —.”

“Wait!” Hoseok blurted. “Is that why you two have been so weird lately. You were trying to come out to us.”

“Eh, something like that,” Yoongi said.

“How long have you known?” Jungkook stepped closed, arms still crossed and brow still furrowed at them. “That you were gay?”

“For a long time,” Yoongi admitted, stepping back to sit on the arm of the couch. “Around when I met Namjoon actually.”

“You kept it a secret for that long?” Hoseok shouted.

“It wasn’t important,” Yoongi defended with a shrug. “The only person I told was Namjoon. Jin just figured it out and Jungkook overheard and Jimin…. is a story for later,” he gave a small nod at that statement, watching the confusion flit over his friend's faces as they turned to look at Jimin. “I didn’t wasn’t to risk that anyone would treat me differently. It’s not like I could date or anything. We’re Idols and I wasn’t really interested in dating either.”

“We wouldn’t treat you differently,” Jin said.

“You say that,” Yoongi tossed out his hand. “But I didn’t know. We’re basically on top of each other. We sleep in the same beds, I’ve seen all of you naked at least once.” 

Hoseok wiggled his nose at that comment. 

“Can you honestly say that all of that, through every moment we’ve spent together,” Yoongi continued, “that you wouldn’t have been weirded out?”

“Yes,” Hoseok assured. “Yes, we could say that. You’re not gay — okay, wait no,” Hoseok backtracked. “You are gay, but like you’re not — that’s not it,” Hoseok confirmed with a nod. “You’re not just gay. It’s not who you are.”

“Thanks, Seok,” Yoongi sighed.

“So, wait,” Namjoon said. “You guys,” he pointed at Jimin and Yoongi, “knew about each other?”

“Yeah,” Jimin supplied.

“You said it wasn’t important before,” Taehyung spoke up, his deep voice startling Yoongi for how long it had been quiet. The taller boy crossed his arms almost accusatory. “What makes it important now?”

“That’s the complicated part,” Yoongi said.

“Can I?” Jimin asked, fingers fiddling together, twisting in front of him. “Tell them?”

“Tell us what?” Hoseok looked frantically between the two of them.

Yoongi took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m ready.”

“Good,” Jimin offered an uneasy smile. “Cause I’m not.” He looked to the others. “You guys might want to sit down for this one.”

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon tilted his head at them. “There’s more life-altering news?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi stood up, taking his stance beside Jimin as the others shuffled to sit on the couch.

“Is this the thing that you couldn’t tell me about but it was really big and really bad and you were convinced Jimin was going to hate you over it?” Jin asked all in one breath.

“Yes. It’s the thing,” Yoongi scratched at the back of his neck. 

“What thing?” Hoseok asked. “What’s the thing?”

Jimin looked to Yoongi, who looked to Jimin and sighed. 

“I don’t really know where to begin,” Yoongi said.

Jimin looked from Yoongi to the others. “Yoongi and I accidentally slept together… like five months ago.”

The collective jaw drop that followed from the members struck the room into silence. Taehyung gasped, cupping his hand over his mouth with a startled cry. “Yoongi’s the —,” he cut himself off, jerking his gaze between Yoongi and Jimin. “From the club? That was — that was Yoongi?!”

“One more time with that,” Namjoon choked out.

“How the hell do you accidentally sleep with someone?” Jin demanded. “And what does Taehyung mean about a club?”

Yoongi was actually shaking as he tried to even his breathing to answer.

Hoseok’s voice pitched, “Did you trip and fall on his —?”

“Hoseok!” Yoongi interrupted. “No,” he waved out his hand. “It wasn’t like that. I— god, I —.” He ran his hand through his hair, shuffling his steps back and forth. “I sometimes — rarely,” he added with conviction, “Go to this club down north. It’s known for being able to erase the identity of anyone who enters. You basically go to be completely anonymous, completely invisible. Everyone wears masks and the music is loud and everything really dark and it’s just really impossible to tell what anyone looks like or who anyone is and Jimin was also kinda there when I was and… things happened.”

“Things?!” Jin said scandalized. “Oh my god. Oh my god. How could you not know it was Jimin?! It’s Jimin.”

“I didn’t know it was him either,” Jimin jumped to defend.

“What were you even doing there?” Namjoon asked, tone like a parent's as he regarded Jimin.

“I needed to be sure,” Jimin shifted. “I wasn’t sure yet. And I needed to be. And I couldn’t figure it out without trying it out. And I couldn’t try it out without potentially ruining everything. So I was careful. And I went there. And I ran into Yoongi. But I really didn’t know it was him.”

“Oh my god,” Jin repeated.

“Jimin,” Namjoon said. “There are other ways to be sure. Why didn’t you come talk to me?”

The tears were welling again. Yoongi could tell as Jimin brought his sleeve to his face to furiously wipe them away. Yoongi stepped closer, putting his hand to Jimin’s shoulder and giving a comforting squeeze.

“I almost did,” Jimin dropped his hands, fiddling with them in front of him. “That night. I really did, Hyung. But I knew you’d talk me out of it. I knew you’d be all wise and calm and I just wanted to be reckless. For once,” he breathed like a weight was falling off his shoulders. “I just wanted to be reckless for once.”

“Jimin,” Jin sighed.

“I know it was stupid,” Jimin defended. “But I never in a million years thought I’d end up with Yoongi!” He tossed his hand out at the older male, almost knocking him in the face. “I didn’t even know he was gay!”

“Likewise,” Yoongi grabbed Jimin’s hand, still extended and inch from his face and lowered it for the boy. “Definitely never thought I’d run into Jimin there.”

“Okay,” Namjoon took a deep breath. “So, you guys… slept together,” he hesitated.

Both boys in question flinched.

“Then what?” Namjoon finished.

“Well,” Jimin grabbed at the back of his neck.

Taehyung sighed, flopping back against the couch. “They kept sleeping together,” Tae said for them. “For like months.”

Scandalized gazes turned back to the two of them.

“We really didn’t know who the other person was,” Yoongi waved his hand out. “Like at all.”

“But,” Jin leaned forward. “How did you keep meeting up?”

“We’d plan it after each time,” Jimin flinched. “And then we downloaded one of those second number apps. I know it sounds kinda stupid, but I swear, you wouldn’t have been able to tell either… I don’t think.”

Why did you keep meeting up?” Namjoon shook his head. “If the whole point was to figure Ito ut,” he pointed at Jimin, “and get it out of your system,” he gestured at Yoongi, “Why did you keep meeting up? What were you trying to prove?”

“I liked him,” Jimin said, shuffling his feet as he looked back. “And he was nice to me.”

“You kept sleeping with him because he was nice?” Jin said, judgment clear.

“Well,” Jimin seemed desperate for words. “It was —.”

“We really don’t want to get into the details of our accidental sex life with you,” Yoongi jumped in. “Please just accept the fact that we kept doing it for reasons.”

Taehyung leaned over to Namjoon and Jin, wide eyes remaining on the two lovers as he whispered. “They were getting awesome sex and didn’t want to stop.”

“Taehyung!” Jimin said, scandalized, face turning red as he reached for the nearest pillow to chuck it at his friend.

“That’s what you said!” Taehyung defended. “That you … worked well together or whatever.”

Jungkook made a gagging sound, Hoseok whined, pouting as he turned to Namjoon, eyes begging Namjoon to stop the madness.

“So, wait!” Jin threw his hands out, leaning forward as he regarded those two boys. “That day you freaked out,” he looked to Yoongi, “You were saying that Jimin was going to hate you, that everything was over. You figured it out, then? That’s why?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded.

“Wait,” Hoseok sat forward. “What made you realize?”

“Wasn’t that the day we were teasing Jimin…” Jungkook trailed off, eyes widening in disgust as he looked between them, “for the bite marks?

“Yoongi!” Jin scandalized tone was getting even more pitched.

“He asked me to!” Yoongi threw his hand out at Jimin.

Jimin gasped in offense and shock. “Yeah, well, Yoongi has a Hyung kink,” Jimin pointed.

“You little shit,” Yoongi regarded him, wide-eyed.

Jimin offered a small smile in apology.

“Oh my god,” Hoseok said. “I really really didn’t want to know that.”

Yoongi was positively flushing now, Jimin not looking much better. 

“Alright!” Namjoon threw his arms out, regaining the focus of the conversation. “So, you found out. What then?” 

“I told Jimin,” Yoongi said.

Jimin scoffed. “After like three days,” he crossed his arms.

“I was in shock,” Yoongi defended.

“And I was confused, thank you very much,” Jimin retorted back.

“We had already scheduled another meeting time,” Yoongi explained with a deep breath. “So I went. I found Jimin, and I told him.”

“It was pretty bad,” Jimin shuffled. “I was really scared.”

“Me too,” Yoongi nodded.

“I tried to run out on him, but he wouldn’t let me,” Jimin looked softly at Yoongi. “He made us talk it out. We cried, we yelled, we kind of reached some sort of agreement.”

“We were going to try and forget it,” Yoongi nodded. “Try to pretend it never even happened. We thought it was for the best and we couldn’t risk losing BTS, or each other because of a stupid mistake.”

“Yeah,” Jimin nodded. “But…” Jimin trailed off, taking a deep breath. 

“There was a problem,” Yoongi took an uneven breath. His legs were wobbling at this point and he really needed to sit down. He stepped aside from the couch to sit on the coffee table in front of his friends. Jimin followed his example, watching him closely, encouragement in his expression.

Yoongi found comfort in Jimin’s gaze. He licked over his lips, placed his hand on Jimin’s leg and admitted it, “I was kind of in love with him.”

Taehyung, Jungkook, and Hoseok’s eyes blinked wider. Hoseok sat straighter while Taehyung jerked to look at Jimin. Jungkook sealed his mouth closed, looking off like trying to figure out a puzzle put before him.

Namjoon closed his eyes and sighed. Jin bit at his lip and looked sown.

“Before,” Yoongi nodded, trying to even out his breathing, “the club, before everything that ever happened between us. I… I was — I.”

“Hyung,” Jimin muttered softly, taking Yoongi’s hand from his leg to intertwine their fingers. A motion that didn’t go unnoticed by the five pairs of eyes locked on him.

Yoongi squeezed the hand in his. “When Jimin joined, he was a kid.”

Jimin looked offended sat that comment, the scandalized look making Yoongi smile softly at him. “At least,” Yoongi went on. “I saw him that way. And it was fine for awhile. But, then one day, I woke up and he didn’t seem like such a kid anymore. I knew I was in trouble, but I just thought if I ignored it, it would just go away. But, it didn’t. It just got worse and worse. And I thought I was going to slip up, mess everything up — I was so scared. But I was certain it didn’t matter anyways because Jimin wasn’t gay. But then he was. And everything kinda got a lot more complicated after I realized that.”

“When he didn’t know it was me,” Jimin jumped in, rubbing his thumb over Yoongi’s trembling hand. “He told me about the boy he had a crush on. Once I figured out who he was, it wasn’t that difficult to put the pieces together.”

Namjoon’s gaze was locked on their hands. 

“Which,” Jimin took a deep breath. “Was… difficult. Because I kinda sorta— I really liked Yoongi back.”

Taehyung was still staring, blinking at his two friends.

“We really were going to stop though,” Yoongi said.

“But then we were in Japan,” Jimin said.

“And we’re both really bad at that whole self-control thing.”

“Oh my god,” Namjoon pointed at them. “You weren’t sick!”

“Yeah,” Jimin scratched at his head. “We weren’t sick.”

Hoseok pouted. “Hyung,” he whined at Yoongi. “Why’d you got to do that? Why’d you got to do that to our innocent Jimin?”

“He is not innocent,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Yah,” Jimin swatted him. 

“This was going on during our Japan tour?” Namjoon asked, tone much more serious.

“Yeah,” Jimin admitted, palm sweating against Yoongi’s own.

“And you were lying to us about it?” Namjoon followed it up.

Jimin looked to Taehyung when he said, “Yeah.”

There was a silence that seemed to levitate over the group for a moment.

“I’m not excusing it,” Yoongi said. “And if you’re mad, I get it. You have that right. But we hated it. We hated lying about it.”

“We were so sure,” Jimin jumped in, “that the moment everyone knew was the moment it would end. We just didn’t want it to end. Not yet.”

“After Japan,” Yoongi nodded, “We had an agreement. After we left Japan, we'd get out act together.”

“We’d done everything so wrong,” Jimin sighed, “So horrifically out of order. We didn’t have a real relationship, but the feelings were real. And we just needed to figure out what to do, so we were going to stop and figure it out when we got back —.”

“And tell you guys,” Yoongi jumped in.

“Yes,” Jimin nodded. “We were going to tell you, but, we just — we just wanted one more chance to do things right.”

“What does that mean?” Jin asked.

“Just that,” Jimin sighed, seeming lost for words. 

“We were going to wait. I mean, we are going to wait until we can actually do this, no matter how long that takes. But, Jimin pointed out, that it could be rather pointless in the end. I mean, I love you guys, all of you,” Yoongi was surprised by how easy it was to say that in that moment. “And Jimin isn’t excluded from that. You guys are my family, my best friends. And so is he. That’s always been a thing. And I’ve loved him like that for years. And we were good at being that. And we were good at being whatever the hell we’ve been for the last five months. But neither of those is a relationship like we wanted to try for, like we promised to try for. We wanted to test the waters one more time, just to make sure we weren’t complicating everything for nothing.”

“We wanted to see if we could even be in a real relationship,” Jimin clarified for Yoongi. “So we decided to date for a little bit, see if it worked, and if it did, we’d confess everything and ask…” Jimin trailed off, looking to Yoongi.

“Ask you for permission to do it for real,” Yoongi said, words feeling heavy off his tongue.

Namjoon straightened at that and Yoongi didn’t like the look in his eye, so he looked away from Namjoon’s gaze, refusing to meet it. 

“Is that where you guys have been sneaking off to lately?” Hoseok asked.

Jimin nodded. 

“And?” Hoseok prodded.

“And?” Jimin questioned.

“What did you figure out?” He waved his hand, trying to get them to keep talking.

“I want to be with him,” Jimin admitted. “I know it’s strange and I know you guys are probably reeling still, but I really do want to. And I really think we could work out.”

“Me too,” Yoongi supplied. “We were just going to go on one more date. That was it. And then we were going to come back and tell you everything. But then…”

“But then…” Jimin also said and they both looked to Jungkook.

“I walked in on them making out,” Jungkook admitted with a sigh.

The group turned to look at Jungkook with widened eyes. 

“I thought Yoongi-Hyung was just using Jimin or something. I didn’t know all of this,” he gestured to them. “So I was pissed off at them. That’s why Jimin… confessed everything.”

“We’re really sorry, Jungkook,” Jimin assured. “And I’m really sorry, Taehyung,” he looked to his friend who pursed his lips as Jimin looked to him. “And to all of you guys too. I know we should’ve just told you. But everything got so complicated so fast. And we were so scared of losing everything.”

“Is that it then?” Namjoon asked after a beat of silence. “Anything else to add?” He crossed his arms. “Like maybe you guys also decided to get engaged or something without telling us?” There was a bite in his tone that Yoongi knew they deserved.

“Joon,” Jin said, placing a hand on his arm, a furrow in his brow.

“You’ve been lying to us for five months,” Namjoon shook his head. “And this is not the same as keeping your sexualities under wraps. This affects everything. This changes everything. Did you guys not think about that?”

“Of course we did, Hyung,” Jimin tried, hand slipping from Yoongi’s in a way that made the older’s chest deflate. “When I talked to you on the plane, it was because I was so scared. I thought everything was going to change. That I was going to ruin everything ––.”

“I only told you to go after it because I didn’t think it was one of us,” Namjoon said, tone saddened. He took a deep breath. “I warned Yoongi,” he threw his hand out. “I knew he liked you and I told him that you liked someone else. I had no idea you were talking about Yoongi. I thought it was like Taemin or something. He could be gay, right?” He muttered to Jin like it was an after thought, before seeming to decide it wasn’t important and turning back to them. “It’s not a matter of whether you’re both boys or not. It’s a matter of the band.”

“We know that, Joon. That’s why —.”

“No,” Namjoon interrupted, sighing heavily. “What have we said since the first day? What have we based everything on?”

“The band first,” Yoongi said.

“The band first,” Namjoon repeated. “Ahead of everything else, anything else. We think about BTS and each other first. We have all traded so much for this,” he gestured around the circle. “We’ve given our entire lives to this. And this,” he gestured between the two of them, “this threatens that and — Jimin, please don’t cry,” Namjoon’s entire face crumpled as he looked at the younger member.

Yoongi turned to Jimin, seeing as the boy’s lips wobbled before he hid his face behind his hands, “I’m not crying,” he said through tears.

Yoongi felt like his chest was closing in as he opened his arms to the younger, Jimin immediately curling into him, his face resting in the crook of Yoongi’s neck. “Hey, it’s okay, Jimin-ah.” He muttered to his boy, rubbing soothingly up his spine. “We knew this could happen. It’s still okay.”

“I know,” Jimin nodded, sniffling softly.

Yoongi felt exposed with all of his friends staring at him. When Jimin and he were like this, they were almost always completely alone. But here, like this, he felt on stage. He felt judged and pitied and he hated it.

But he loved Jimin, so he didn’t let go and didn’t push him away.

“Guys,” Namjoon tried, tone almost pleading. “I don’t — I’m not trying — you know, I —.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” Yoongi said. “I understand. We understand. We honestly expected this.” He forced a small laugh. “It’s honestly why we didn’t tell you for so long.”

Namjoon flinched at that.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said. “Namjoon, I really, really am.” But even as he said it, his grip tightened on Jimin, who sniffled as he turned to face his friends again, still leaning against the older, hand gripping Yoongi’s shirt at his back.

“It’s just,” Namjoon still continued, needing to explain himself, so Yoongi let him. “What if you guys break up? What if something happens? Relationships like this are so much more complicated than this,” he gestured around to the group. “And we already have enough complications without …” Namjoon sighed. “This will change the whole dynamic of the group. And I —.”

“Namjoon,” Yoongi said. “It’s okay. We understand.”

“Why?” Namjoon stood up then. “Why do you understand?” He shook his head at them. "I thought you guys wanted to be together. Why aren’t you fighting me?”

“Because it’s not over,” Yoongi said simply.

Jimin sniffled, sitting straighter. The position removed Jimin from Yoongi’s side, loosening the boy’s grip on Yoongi’s shirt and his heart began to sink because it was ending, wasn’t it?

“We still have someday,” Jimin said, wiping at his eyes.

“Someday?” Taehyung asked.

Jimin nodded. “Yeah. Like, maybe Korea will become more accepting,” he actually scoffed a laugh when he said that. “Or maybe things will just change somehow. And then we can give it a try.”

“How long are you willing to wait?” Jungkook asked, genuine curiosity mixed in with shock.

“However long it takes, I guess,” Jimin shrugged.

“What if you change your minds?” Hoseok asked. “What if you meet someone else?”

Yoongi sunk his teeth into his lip, feeling something uncomfortable expand in his chest until it ached. “We’ll talk about it,” Yoongi said. “We’re adults. And, we’re still friends. Above everything else, we’re family. We’ll get through it if it comes to that. I know we will,” he looked down at his feet, shuffling them against the floor. Because Jimin might change his mind or meet someone else, but Yoongi was certain he couldn’t.

Jimin was it.

He would almost stake his life on it.

But he could forgive Jimin, couldn’t he? He could make it work if that happened. It would hurt. But he meant what he said all those days ago when he and Jimin were crying in a club trying to convince each other things would be okay. Jimin meant too much to him to ever just walk away from, no matter what the issue.

Yoongi fiddled with the ring on his finger, twisting the metal band around his finger until it started to heat up.

“I can’t believe we didn’t know,” Hoseok said, flopping down against the couch. “All this was going on and we had no idea.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Yoongi said with a shrug, “We didn’t know it was going on either for awhile there.”

“I still can’t believe you’re both gay,” Hoseok supplied, sitting bolt upright. “Was I the only one who didn’t know about either of you?”

Yoongi looked around. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Hoseok pouted. 

“Don’t be like that, Seok,” Yoongi leaned forward to knock Hoseok’s knee. 

Jimin sniffled softly beside Yoongi. “I guess that’s it then,” he sighed, turning to Yoongi.

“For now,” Yoongi agreed.

“For now,” a small, sad smile tugged Jimin’s lip. 

“This is so weird,” Jungkook muttered.

Yoongi placed his hand on Jimin’s nape, pulling him in against his shoulder to wrap his arms tight around the younger boy. “I love you,” Yoongi whispered to the younger’s ear, quiet enough that the others couldn’t hear. “This doesn’t change anything.”

Jimin nodded, pulling back and wiping at his eyes some more. “I love you too,” he said, and Yoongi knew the others caught onto that one.

“Jimin, Yoongi,” Namjoon looked heartbroken.

“It’s okay, Hyung,” Jimin nodded, standing up. “I’m just going to go to my room now.” He sniffled. “But I’m okay,” even as he said it, he looked like he was going to start crying again.

Yoongi clasped his hands together.

“Guys, I’m sorry,” Namjoon also looked like he was about to start crying.

“Joon, it’s fine,” Yoongi assured as Jimin disappeared around the corner.

Taehyung stood up. “I’m gonna go keep him company,” he nodded. 

“Me too,” Hoseok stood to follow Taehyung.

Yoongi stood up next. “I’m gonna go to the studio,” he took a deep breath, feeling his own sadness lump in his throat. “We have the rest of the day off, right?” But he wasn’t really listening as he shoved his feet into his shoes. He needed to get out before he started sobbing in front of them.

“Hyung,” Namjoon said.

“Joon, we’re not mad,” Yoongi turned to him, hoping they couldn’t see the shimmer he felt in his eyes. “We’re just sad. Let us be sad for a moment. Then we can move on, keep going.”

“I’ll go with him,” Jungkook stood up, rushing to Yoongi’s side, leaning over to put his own shoes on. Yoongi tasseled his hair before pulling his coat on. He nodded to the exit and Jungkook followed.

It was easier with Jungkook. Easy to push things aside with Jungkook sitting right beside him, eagerly listening as Yoongi showed him all the new stuff he’d worked on over the last few weeks. Jungkook was always willing to learn.

“I’m sorry, Hyung.”

“What for?” Yoongi asked gruffly.

“You and Jimin.”

“We knew it would happen like this. We were just hoping things might be different.”

“You’re really willing to wait?” Jungkook asked again. “You really love him that much?”

Yoongi paused the track playing on the monitor and turned to Jungkook. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook smiled.

“Well, it’s like that with Jimin,” Yoongi said, “but it’s more, you know. It’s,” he searched his brain for a way to explain, gaze catching on the layered tracks presented on the screen next to him. He smiled softly. “It’s like a song,” he said. “It’s layered.”

Jungkook looked at him like he’d grown an extra head.

Yoongi laughed. “So, like, us, right?” He gestured between us. “We were bandmates first, right? So that’s one layer, maybe like the beat in the background. And it was nice and all, but then we became friends, and it was another layer. Maybe that was the instrumentals, the first layer. And then I was your Hyung, so there was that too, some background vocals. Then we became a family, and that was like the lyrics, the music, all the meaning. We grew closer and more beats were added, more instruments, the background vocals, and we had a great song. With Jimin, there are just more layers. Everything I feel towards you guys, I feel for him. There’s just another couple layers of instruments, a different beat playing over the first. It’s the same song, but it sounds different. It’s the same song, just with more.”

Yoongi could see the understanding in Jungkook’s features.

“It doesn’t mean I love you any less,” Yoongi added.

Jungkook’s face split in a shy smile. “I know, Hyung.”

“So yeah,” Yoongi clarified with a nod. “I’m willing to wait.”

“How long?” Jungkook leaned back in his seat to ask. “Have you liked him?”

“Oh, gosh, for years now,” Yoongi admitted. “It was a huge reason why I didn’t want to come out to all of you. I thought he’d put it together the moment he knew I was gay.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook encouraged Yoongu to go on, light dancing in his eyes.

So Yoongi continued. He told the youngest member more of them and what they were and the details of their relationship that didn’t revolve around the sex parts. He spoke until his throat felt dry and Jungkook was easy to talk to, laughing brightly when Yoongi mentioned something funny and listening carefully to everything.

“I’ve never been in love,” Jungkook said, fiddling with his hands. “It sounds messy.”

“It helps if you do things in order,” Yoongi sighed.

“It’ll be okay, Hyung,” Jungkook assured, squeezing Yoongi’s arm assuringly. “You guys will get your chance.”

“You think so?” Yoongi almost scoffed.

“I do,” Jungkook nodded enthusiastically. “I really do. You guys are good together. I’ve always thought so. Just not quite like this,” he admitted. “But this works. It’s just a little weird to see you guys so touchy with each other.”

“Sorry you walked in on that.”

“Eh,” he shrugged. “I was panicked at the time. But, looking back. You guys looked happy.”

“We are, Jungkook.”

“Even if you can’t be together?”

“We still have each other. Still, have you guys. It’s not over yet.”

“You really think so.”

“I know so.”


Instagram: @quadenomen

Chapter Text

“I really am sorry, Taehyung.”

“I know,” Taehyung sighed. 

“Will you ever forgive me?” Jimin asked, curled up in a ball on his bed as Taehyung shuffled in the closet.

Taehyung sighed, ducking his head back to look at Jimin. “Of course I’m going to forgive you. I can’t not forgive you. You’re my best friend. But you’re still my best friend who lied to me and kept the world’s juiciest secret from me and I’m still pissed about that. But you’re sad so we’re still going to cuddle and do best friend stuff, but I’m still upset.”

“Okay,” Jimin said sadly.

“I still can’t believe you were banging Yoongi the whole time.”

“Oh my god, me neither,” Jimin said, turning to look at the ceiling.

“Did you really cry when you found out?” Taehyung sunk onto the mattress beside him.

“Yeah,” Jimin said. “I was so scared. I tried to leave, but then he started crying, telling me how scared he was that if I left it would be over and he couldn’t lose me. We both cried so much. It was a mess. And then I yelled at him.”

“Who initiated it after that?”

Jimin curried his face in the pillow. “I did.”

“Really?!” Taehyung plopped down on the same pillow, inches from Jimin’s face. “How? When? Why?”

Jimin shuffled so he could speak clearly again. “Before he knew who I was, he said some stuff about liking someone I reminded him. After everything happened, I wondered if it was me. It sounded like he was talking about me in hindsight. And after our first concert in Japan, I went up to him and I kissed him.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung asked, excitedly. “When did you guys start having sex again?”

“Wow,” Hoseok said from the doorway. “You guys are nasty.”

“You’re honestly not curious?” Taehyung sat up to ask Hoseok.

“Not about that,” he wrinkled his nose. “I’m more interested in how you guys started using the love word like that,” Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows, joining Jimin and Taehyung on Jimin’s bed.

“You guys are honestly okay with Yoongi and I being like this?” Jimin asked, sitting up.

“It’s weird for sure,” Hoseok said with wide eyes. “I’m still trying to get used to the notion that you guys are gay. You being together is a whole other ballpark. But, I mean,” Hoseok shrugged, “I’ve never seen Yoongi so soft before. Did he really tell you he loved you when you guys were hugging like that? That was so heartbreakingly adorable.”

“I feel like we’re in a drama,” Taehyung nodded along.

Jimin groaned, flushing red as he rolled back into the bed, but there was a smile as he pushed his hand into Taehyung’s lap. 

Taehyung took Jimin’s hand with a curious expression. “What?”

“Yoongi bought me a ring,” Jimin beamed, trying to hide it in his pillow.

“What?” Taehyung sat up, holding Jimin’s hand to view the small band. 

Hoseok leaned over, eyes and mouth forming o’s. “Oh my god!”

“He has one too,” Jimin said, biting his lip to suppress his smile. “He bought them in Japan when he promised me he wanted to be with me someday.”

“Oh my god!” Taehyung gaped. “What a sap,” he commented with a flat expression afterward.

Hoseok turned Jimin’s hand to view it at every possible angle while Jimin laughed next to him.

“Wow,” Hoseok said as Jimin drew his hand back. “He’s really gone for you, isn’t he?”

Jimin flushed a violent shade of red. 

“This is so weird,” Hoseok muttered mostly to himself, garnering looks from his dongsaes. “It’s not a bad weird,” he added.

“So,” Taehyung jerked back to him. “You kissed after the first concert in Japan. When did you have sex?”

“Taehyung!” Hoseok dropped his arms to squawk at the other.

“I have waiting days to ask this question since they came out. I wanna know,” Taehyung tossed up his hands.

Jimin looked between his two friends as they looked at him. 

“Well,” Hoseok crossed his arms. “Go on then.”

Jimin laughed a little breathlessly. “Um… Well,” he twisted his fingers together. “We didn’t have sex sex again until the last night there.”

“Sex sex?” Hoseok repeated. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” Jimin cringed, “we did other stuff before that.”

“Like what?” Taehyung asked with a bob of his head.

Jimin looked between them. He had almost no qualms about sharing everything with Taehyung. They basically had no censor between them, but with Hoseok… it just felt a little unnatural to say, “Yeah, like blowjobs and stuff…”

Hoseok’s face immediately contorted to disgust. “Ewww," he shook his head. “With Yoongi? Why?”

“You asked,” Jimin flushed brightly.

“Is Yoongi big?” Taehyung asked next. “Like how big?” 

Jimin swatted his friend. “Oh my god, stoooop,” he whined.

“I’ve seen it briefly,” Taehyung went on with a nod of his head. “I know he’s not as big as Namjoon, but I would be scared for you if he was as big as Namjoon —.”

Hoseok squawked again and Jimin made a sound of protest.

“— but he’s still —.”

“Why are you assuming I’m the bottom?” Jimin demanded, crossing his arms.

Taehyung blinked at him like he’d just asked the dumbest question. “You couldn’t walk after the first time, Jimin.”

“Right,” Jimin confirmed with a nod.

“That limp was because of Yoongi!” Hoseok sunk to sit back down on the bed. “I’m gonna kick his ass for that.”

Jimin scoffed a laugh. 

“Yoongi could be a bottom though,” Taehyung tapped his chin, contemplating. “He’s pretty lazy. I think he’d like to just lie there and —.”

Hoseok interrupted him with a single pillow swoop to the face. “Don’t talk about your Hyung like that,” Hoseok shook his head.

Taehyung just beamed.

Jimin face planted into his bed.

Hoseok’s hand met Jimin’s back, rubbing up his spine. “You okay?”

“With this conversation?” Jimin turned to peer at him. “Nope.”

“With… not being able to date Yoongi,” Hoseok troded carefully, hand still gently rubbing at Jimin’s back.

Jimin sighed, “I guess I have to be, Hyung. That’s kind of a cruel question.”

Hoseok pouted. “It’s not like we’re separating you guys. You’re still around each other.”

“It’s different, Hyung,” Jimin sat up, sitting criss-cross on the bed. “It’s unnatural.” He tried to explain. “It’s like…” he threw his hands up, searching for the words. “We did something, on accident at first and then…” he brushed his hair aside, “not so on accident later — but, we did something and by doing that something, it’s like we stepped further down a path and we can’t just step backward. Because it’s natural where we are. But it’s not when we have to pretend like we’re fifty steps behind where we actually are — that’s unnatural and weird. It would be like you two,” he gestured between them, “having to start acting and treating each other like strangers… it’s just… hard,” he said dejected. 

“But it’ll be fine,” Jimin was quick to add on. He wasn’t trying to garner sympathy or guilt. He just wanted to explain. Wanted them to know. He and Yoongi weren’t just being reckless and selfish. They were trying and it was hard but they were going to get through it. 

“You should probably start talking again,” Hoseok said, a faint fringe following as if testing the waters but scared of what reaction he may get. “Don’t you think?” He added to soften the sudden accusation in his tone. 

Jimin sighed. Because he was right. Yoongi and Jimin haven’t spoken much since three days prior when they’d dropped everything on their band mates and hoped for a response they didn’t get. Passing glances, usually sad and full of meaning, had been it between the two. In a way, it felt like they were still communicating. Gentle touches and reassuring squeezes when they’d pass each other. It felt like a lot. But maybe it wasn’t really. 

They both seemed to have come to a silent agreement to lay low. For their sakes as well as to reassure their band mates that they weren’t going to continue on without their will. In a way, a lot of it was to tread carefully around the others in Jimins mind. As if the wrong move would make them lose trust in him or grow angry with him. His long-held fear of ruining the group he’d come to rely on with everything in him was back with full force and an unrelenting hold. 

“It’s hard,” Jimin supplied and nothing more. 

“You guys are still going to be friends, right?” Taehyung asked and there was caution in his words but also a nervousness — a fear. A ‘are we going to be okay as a band?’ 

“Of course,” Jimin insisted, reaching to squeeze Taehyung’s arm. “He could probably break up with me right now with no explanation and we’d find a way to still be friends.”

“Break up,” Hoseok repeated quietly. 

Jimin supposed to then it seemed like they already did break up. 

Jimin cleared his throat, looking down. It wasn’t like that to him. He didn’t consider them broken up. Not at all. He twisted the ring to his finger. 

“So you’re really just going to wait around for a yes, then?” Hoseok tried, trying to understand. 

“Yeah,” Jimin could feel himself growing defensive and he hated it. It was just Hobi and Tae. “Guess so.”

“Don’t you think that’s ...” Hoseok scratched at his head, looking for the right words. “A little unhealthy? Just waiting around?”

Jimin frowned. “I don’t really care, Hyung.” 

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair?” He pushed then. “To both of you?”

Jimin gripped the ring to his finger, staring at the comforter in favor of looking at his friends. His fear of judgment was brimming just under the surface, ready to break through. He was beating it down in his head, trying to remind himself that they were just concerned and it wasn’t about judgment. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair to everyone else too?”

Jimin jerked to face Hoseok at the soft-spoken words, shocked and hurt. 

Hoseok places his hand on Jimins knee. “You’re sad, Chim. So is Yoongi. And it’s because we said no. Don’t you think that, maybe, that makes everyone sad too? We love you guys and we feel awful about this, ya know. Namjoon is tearing himself up over it and if you’re just waiting around for a yes...” Hoseok sighed. “It makes it really hard for us not to cave and just give it to you.”

That wasn’t what Jimin wanted. He wanted a yes. But he wanted it out of support, not obligation and guilt. If it happened like that, sure, he might gain Yoongi, but he’d likely lose more. 

“I’m not trying —.”

“Of course you’re not,” Hoseok scooted flower, wrapping his arms around his younger friend. “I know. We all know. It’s just...”

“Hard,” Taehyung finished for him. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok agreed. “Hard.”

“I can’t just give up,” Jimin shook his head. “Not on us. Not on this,” He twisted the ring to his finger. 

“We don’t want you to,” Hoseok said. 

Taehyung nodded eagerly beside him. 

“But until then,” Hoseok reaches forward, hand wrapping around Jimins hand, covering his fingers— covering the ring. “You and Yoongi can’t just be waiting. There’s gotta be more. Something to fall back on. Rely on. You guys are just going to make yourselves miserable.”

“You have to talk to each other, Chim,” Taehyung pursed his lips.  


It would turn out that Yoongi got a very similar talk from Jin and Namjoon. As Jimin walked from his room to the living room, ready for the meal he was promised. But everyone else was filling out the door except Yoongi, who sat on the couch, tapping against the headrest.

“Jimin,” he said as Taehyung slipped past Jimin to head for the door. “Can we talk?”

Jimin looked to the others, receiving a nod from Namjoon before the door was being closed behind them.

Jimin pouted. “I’m actually hungry.”

Yoongi smiled softly, tilting his head at Jimin as he held out his hand. “They'll bring us something back.”

Touching was weird. Reaching out and taking Yoongi’s hand like everything was fine was weird. 

Jimin interlocked their fingers in the brief moment it took Yoongi to pull him to the couch, the younger landing a respectable distance away from the older.

Jimin stared down at their hands before reluctantly pulling away, Yoongi doing the same with a regretful look in his eye.

“We’re causing trouble again,” Yoongi said with a sigh.

“It’s just hard.”

“It wouldn’t be us if it were easy,” Yoongi said.

“What do we do?” Jimin asked.

Yoongi bit his lip, opening his arms. “Come here.”

Relaxing into Yoongi’s hold felt like the final piece of a puzzle fitting into place. It didn’t last long, just a standard hug, but it was the most they’d touched in a couple of days. 

“We do that,” Yoongi nudged him.

“We hug?” Jimin asked.

“We don’t avoid each other, but we don’t make out. We were close when we were just friends. There’s no reason we can’t be that close still.”

“But it will be so hard not to touch you,” Jimin whined.

Yoongi smiled. “It will take some getting used to, sure. But we can do it.”

“Yeah,” Jimin took a deep breath. “We can. I know we can.”

Yoongi opened his arms again and Jimin sunk into his hold, not pulling away this time. 

“Everything’s okay,” Yoongi said against Jimin’s hair. “We haven’t lost anyone or anything. We just have to keep going for the time being. Everything will work out. You’ll see.”

“And until then,” Jimin looked up to catch Yoongi’s gaze. “We probably need to establish some rules and guidelines. Knowing us, that is.”

“Because we were excellent at following rules up until now.”

Jimin lightly hit his arm. “Rules,” he demanded.

“No sleeping together,” Yoongi said.

Jimin was very aware that he was basically in Yoongi’s lap but decided to ignore it for the time being. “Way to choose the easy one.”

“Your turn,” Yoongi’s grip rested to Jimin’s hips.

“No kissing.”

“Pssh,” Yoongi scoffed. “Easy.”

“We shouldn’t talk about this,” Jimin said, getting a confused look from Yoongi. “About us. It’s too painful and someone could hear, you know. So, we just, don’t mention it too often.”

“And if we need to talk about it, what then?”

“We talk about it.”

Yoongi looked down to where Jimin’s hands rested against his chest. “What if you change your mind?”

Jimin hardened his expression. “I won’t.”

Yoongi took his hand. “What if you do? I wouldn’t hold it against you, you know. You’re more important to me than that.”

Jimin tightened his grip on Yoongi’s hand.

“If you ever change your mind, stop wearing the ring,” Yoongi said, catching Jimin’s gaze. I’ll understand and I’ll move on and we’ll be fine.”

“You too,” Jimin said, barely above a whisper. “But it won’t happen,” he assured.

“I love you,” Yoongi said.

“I love you too,” Jimin smiled. “But we probably shouldn’t say that anymore either.”

“It will be implied.”


It did get easier. As weeks bled into months, the group found their new rhythm, one very in tune with their last one. The awkwardness dissipated over time, as did the longing looks and extended touches between the two lovebirds. The tension seemed to die down and Namjoon quickly stopped apologizing every time he found himself alone with either Jimin or Yoongi. 

Things were back to normal, Yoongi supposed.

Not everything, though. There was still the way he felt about Jimin — felt around Jimin. There was the constant nag in the back of his mind that something was missing, every single night he found himself still alone lying in his bed — the insistent need Yoongi found to constantly check to make sure Jimin was still wearing his band.

The members got less and less tense about the two of them too, returning to the point where Yoongi could sneak his hand into Jimin’s grasp and get away with it as long as he didn’t hold on too long and as long as there was a moment caught on camera of him doing the same to another member (which honestly just kind of matched his usual rhythm and wasn’t hard). They were even permitted a couple of nights to sleep in the same bed, just as they did before.

But there was always other members in the room, always suspicious glances sent their way and Seokjin’s very loud voice reminding them that if they ever had sex in the same room as him, he would end them both.

It was still nice waking up in Jimin’s arms, still nice to feel for half a second before Yoongi’s consciousness would catch up to him that they were completely together.

But he supposed it was getting easier. Time really is a miracle like that. And as they passed the fourth or fifth-month mark — Yoongi was honestly getting terrible at keeping up — normal actually seemed like a complete possibility. He considered how the Yoongi who had just discovered that he and Jimin were sleeping together never thought they could get to this point.

There were hiccups, of course.

The most notable of these was about seven months in when the whole group was dead tired from preparing the choreography for their newest comeback. The steps were much more complicated this time than they had been in awhile and the exhaustion was weighing heavily on everyone, even the more experienced dancers (read: Jimin and Hoseok).

Jimin was trying to show Seokjin how to do a slide step a bit more smoothly, in time with everyone else, his hands resting at his side when Yoongi saw it …

Or rather didn’t see it. 

The ring. Where was the ring?

Yoongi checked. Of course, he checked. But it wasn’t on Jimin’s usual finger or any other and when Yoongi met Jimin’s gaze in the mirror, the tired gaze left with a sigh.

And it hurt.

Hurt like Yoongi had somewhat prepared himself for, but never actually managed to come up with just how much it ached.

“Hyung?” Hoseok had placed a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Yoongi snapped out of his own thoughts, feeling the tears hot in his eyes and the pain expanding in his chest. “Yeah,” his voice cracked. “Just — have to go to the bathroom.” He nodded once and hurried out of the room, feeling curious and possibly concerned glances following him.

But this wasn’t fair. No — Yoongi needed to make his breathing stop rasping, needed to suck the tears back. He’d promised Jimin. He’d promised him it would be okay. That he would understand.

But why? Why now?

Maybe it was just too long. It had been seven whole months. Seven whole months and even Yoongi was beginning to feel like this was it now like there was nothing more than this new normal ahead of them. Had Jimin given up? Had the stress of their new comeback just been too much? — oh shit — did he find someone else?

Yoongi clutched his teeth as he pushed his way into the men’s bathroom, leaning his arm to the wall and staring down at his feet as he tried to bring his thoughts back to rationality and breathing to normal.

The door creaked open, ringing with a soft and familiar, “Hyung?”

Yoongi screwed his eyes closed, taking a shaky breath as he turned to face Jimin, back falling to the wall. “I’m sorry,” he started. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I promised and I’ll be f-fine.”

“Yoongi?” Jimin dropped the honorific, looking perplexed as he stepped forward.

“Don’t,” Yoongi held out his hands, stopping the boy's movements. “I’ll be fine. Just — just don’t make it harder.”

“Make what harder?” Now there was a flare of panic in Jimin’s voice.

“Jimin,” Yoongi wiped at his face. “Don’t play dumb, it’s cruel.”

“Yoongi,” Jimin said assertively, crossing his arms, “I literally have no idea what you’re —. Oh, wait, shit.” Jimin’s eyes widened as he looked down at his hand, gaze jerking back up to Yoongi as he threw out his hands, rushing closer. “Wait, wait, no. Don’t cry, Hyung,” Jimin was right in front of Yoongi now, tilting his head to stare up at Yoongi’s downcast face, hands coming to cup his chin, the touch making Yoongi flinch, instinctively reaching to grab Jimin’s wrists. The intention was to tug them away, but he never really got that far.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” Jimin rushed out. “I swear, I just…” He dropped a palm from Yoongi’s skin to reach into his shirt, tugging out a fine chain with a rose gold band attached to it. “Last night when I was practicing alone, I lost it for like five seconds cause it slipped off my finger and I freaked out, so when I got home, I stole this chain from Hoseok-Hyung and put it around my neck and I totally meant to tell you, but I also completely forgot I even did it until right this second.” Jimin dropped the chain to return his hand to Yoongi’s face, making the older look at him. “I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” he whined.

Yoongi let his weight fall forward, pushing the boy's grasp from his face in favor of tugging him into a tight hug. “You’re so mean,” Yoongi mumbled to his shoulder through tears.

“You’re stupid,” Jimin said back, pulling away to face the older. “You really think I’d break up with you and not even have the decency to tell you in person — scratch that,” Jimin insisted, brow furrowing in his determination, “You really think I’d break up with you at all.”

Yoongi sniffed, feeling a bit embarrassed by just how much he lost it there. He wiped at his face and stepped back, hand reaching to intertwine his fingers with Jimin’s, keeping him close. “But we had that agreement. And it’s been so long, I thought —”

“Screw that agreement. And screw what you thought.” Jimin closed the space Yoongi had gained between them to hold the nape of Yoongi’s neck with his free hand. “It’s been like seven months and I’m still all in. I don’t think leaving this is even an option at this point.” Yoongi closed his eyes, letting himself bask in Jimin’s words, letting him believe them, despite that insistent urge that Jimin was promising something he just couldn’t.

Yoongi held Jimin’s hip to guide him closer, their arms falling back around each other in a tight embrace.

It had been awhile since Yoongi had been allowed to touch Jimin this much, and he really wished he wasn’t a blubbering mess for it so he could fully enjoy the fact that his thumb was currently touching Jimin’s bare side from where the younger’s shirt had ridden up.

Yoongi curried his nose against the crook in Jimin’s neck.

Jimin sighed with a soft giggle, “You’re such a baby sometimes.”

Yoongi pinched his side, making the younger jolt in his arms with a pitched cry. Yoongi got swatted on his shoulder for his attempts, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Not with Jimin being so close, the younger’s smile so bright and so caring and so —

“Errr, what’s going on in here?” Hoseok’s voice rang from the doorway.

Yoongi flitted his gaze to the younger; Jimin jumped in his arms, trying to twist away and regain normal distance between them in his panic.

Yoongi readjusted his chin onto the younger’s shoulder, not relinquishing his grip. Screw the rules for like five more minutes. He’d just had his heart smashed into a thousand pieces and was still coming back from the whiplash of it all.

“Hyung,” Jimin whined.

Yoongi just held his face against the younger’s shoulder, not relinquishing until Jimin gave up with a sigh, combing his hands through Yoongi’s hair and turning his head to tell Hoseok, “We’ll be out in a minute, Hyung.”

Hoseok nodded once, giving them a strange look before backing out slowly.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” Jimin shook his head at Yoongi, playing with a stray strand of his hair.

Yoongi only turned his head, pressing closer to Jimin’s chin, nose brushing the younger’s cheek.

“You’re such a baby,” Jimin repeated, the fondness evident in his voice even without the gentle touches he was pushing to Yoongi’s scalp.

Yoongi grunted his defiance at being called such a thing.

My baby,” Jimin cooed softly, grinning as Yoongi straightened to look at him from that comment.

Jimin beamed under Yoongi’s confusion, laughing softly as his arms linked behind Yoongi’s head. “Is that okay? Can I call you that? My baby?”

Yoongi narrowed his gaze, glaring at the younger.

Jimin’s eyes widened as he gaped at Yoongi. “You’re not saying no!” He exclaimed. “Oh my god, you like it,” he accused.

Yoongi could feel his complexion betraying him by flushing. “I do not,” he said.

Jimin smiled wider, which maybe shouldn’t have been possible.

Yoongi narrowed his brow because he honestly did hate pet names — thought they were almost disgustingly American. But when Jimin leaned forward, tracing his finger down Yoongi’s forehead down to the tip of Yoongi’s nose, saying a soft, “baby,” Yoongi let his eyes flutter closed and decided pet names weren’t so bad.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin dropped his hand, tilting his head at Yoongi. “I’m sorry that I scared you.”

“Just don’t do it again,” Yoongi muttered. He leaned his forehead to Jimin’s, closing his eyes and keeping the younger close by clutching his shirt, breathing him in — god, it had been so long. “I’ve missed you,” Yoongi let the words slip.

Jimin took a deep breath as if steeling himself for something inevitable. “I’m right here, Hyung. I never left.”

“You know what I mean,” Yoongi sighed.

“We have to be careful, Hyung,” Jimin basically whispered in the space between them. 

Yoongi opened his eyes and narrowed them at Jimin, a mischievous smirk on his face as he added, “Especially if you consider our last bathroom escapade.”

Jimin flushed red, the shocked laughter that fell from his lips pitched in the echoed bathroom. He hit at Yoongi’s shoulder, “Don’t make me think of that when we’re alone like this.”

Yoongi chuckled, feeling the shock from before finally weighing from his chest. “Self-control has never been our strong suit.”

“Yeah,” Jimin glanced at the door as if checking to make sure they were still alone, before adding, “I really wanna kiss you right now.”

Yoongi must’ve looked like he had no oppositions to that statement (maybe because he didn’t), because Jimin pouted, pushing him back. “Hyung, he can’t,” he whined, finishing the sound with a dejected sigh.

Yoongi stepped to close their distance, planting the softest kiss to Jimin’s temple. “We should get back,” he took a deep breath, an echoed gasp of the crying session ringing in his chest. “Before they come in here and really do yell at us.” He took Jimin’s wrist, moving for the door.

Jimin halted Yoongi with a tug back.

Yoongi turned to him.

“I still you love you, Yoongi,” he said. “I’m still in love with you. You know that, right?”

Yoongi glanced at the door before stepping back, closing the space between them in two strides. His hands cupped Jimin’s face and he pressed their lips together.

It was too fast, in both of their opinions. The kiss held for a five count, but it felt like a split second, felt like a sip of water after being without it for days. Jimin fell towards Yoongi even as they separated as if trying to reclaim the touch, but he couldn’t. He rested his arms to the older boy’s chest, looking up at him with wide eyes. He understood. Yoongi always loved so quietly, but his actions were always loud with his intentions.

I love you, too. I’m in love with you too. still. forever. 

Jimin followed Yoongi out the door, back down the hall to the dance room.

The heads of their other members turned to them as they stepped in, curious and — oh god, accusing. Jimin ducked his head against it, hurrying from Yoongi’s side to Taehyung’s, clearing his throat as he took back up his position and Yoongi slowly found his own on the other side of the room.

He flinched at his own expression in the mirror. It was obvious he’d been crying, face puffy and eyes still tinted red, especially around the rims. He sniffled again and picked up the position as Hoseok called their start again.


“What happened?” Namjoon asked as the door to their apartment closed behind the last member. Jimin figured it made sense that he would wait until the moment the door closed as if sealing all talk of what Yoongi and Jimin were in the confines of their apartment. Jimin knew in his heart it was for protection and safety, but he couldn’t help the pain that accompanied the insistency in Namjoon’s actions, the near panic. As if what Yoongi and Jimin had needed to be hidden. As if, if it made its way out the door, all that would follow would be shame.

“Nothing,” Yoongi said with the same sort of defense Jimin felt in his heart.

Namjoon looked between the two of them and then to everybody else. “We can talk about it now or later, but you’re going to have to tell me what that was back there?” His tone was soft, kind, open — everything Namjoon had always been towards them. And he understood that the strictness in what he said was from that same desperation to protect the group and keep it together that had accompanied the older since before Jimin even met him, but he didn’t like feeling criticized for something he still believed he should be able to do with no restrictions.

Yoongi sighed, crossing his arms defiantly. “Cut us some slack, Joon, it’s been seven months and we haven’t done anything. Besides, I thought I got dumped,” he tossed out his hand at nothing in particular. “That needed a moment.”

“What?” Jungkook furrowed his brow, looking almost accusingly at Jimin, which was almost adorable with how much of the expression was a pout.

“I didn’t,” Yoongi clarified, holding the back of his neck. “I just thought I did for a moment there,” he muttered.

“We had a system,” Jimin clarified for the confused other members. “Because talking about it is hard,” he fiddled with his fingers, looking down, “And talking about it makes it hard to pretend like it’s not a thing, so we had a system — its a stupid system that is gone now— but we had this thing that if either of us wanted out we’d just stop wearing the ring and I forgot to tell him that I put mine on a chain and I may have scared him a lot,” Jimin cringed, glancing up at the others.

“So you guys were in the bathroom…?” Jin asked.

“Explaining,” Jimin said at the same time that Yoongi said:

“I kissed him.”

Jimin looked to Yoongi in shock.

“We don’t lie anymore,” Yoongi shrugged, intently examining his fingernails as he leaned back against where the kitchen counter met the living area. “It was just one kiss,” Yoongi added on, still not looking up.

Namjoon took a seat on the couch. “We haven’t really talked about it in a while, so I suppose now is as good a time as any to just clarify that this is still a thing?” He rushed out his words, looking almost hurt as he glanced between Yoongi and Jimin.

“Of course it’s still a thing,” Yoongi said, maybe a bit too harshly. “It’ll always be a thing.”

“Okay,” Namjoon held up his hands in surrender. “I just wanted to check.”

“Are we in trouble?” Jimin asked.

Namjoon sighed. “No, you’re not in trouble. I’m not — I’m not here to keep you in line or-or,” he sighed, “punish you. I’m not— that’s not what I’m here for. I just — I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“This hurts,” Jimin whispered, whispered so carefully no one was supposed to hear, but with how Jin glanced to him, Jimin was certain someone had. He pursed his lips. 

“We know, Joon,” Yoongi said.

“You guys are really serious about this then,” Jin crossed his arm, a smile softening his words. “It’s been like seven whole months.”

Yoongi narrowed his gaze. “You know how serious I am about this.”

“I just thought you might want to talk about it,” Jin offered. “Openly. You don’t talk about it often.”

Jimin shifted awkwardly where he stood. 

Yoongi offered nothing up in turn.

“It’s not that,” Jimin tried, “we want this to be something hidden or private or whatever because we don’t. It’s just a lot easier to continue on how we’re supposed to if we’re not bringing it up all the time.”

“When we are together for real,” Yoongi said, still looking anywhere but at his bandmates. “We will talk to you guys about it and include you in it, just not right now. Not when it’s like this.” He twisted the band around his finger twice and Jimin found a weird sense of pride growing in his chest that that was the new tick Yoongi had picked up, the new quirk he had when he was nervous — to twist their band against his finger.

“Okay, Yoons,” Namjoon said with a sigh. 

Yoongi kicked himself up from the wall then, stepping to Jimin to tug him alongside him. Jimin looked at him with wide eyes. “Wanna spend the night tonight?” Yoongi asked lowly, words mumbled to hide them, though they were apparent to everyone.

Jimin bobbed his head to no, glancing at Namjoon as if for permission.

“I’m not your keeper,” Namjoon said simply. “I trust you guys, you know that, right?”

Yoongi turned to him, looking actually shocked by his words. It took him a moment before he managed out, “Thanks, Joon.”

“Do whatever you think you can handle,” Namjoon gave a small smile, an offering of peace in the weird power imbalance that was formed the day Yoongi and Jimin confessed to the group.

Yoongi nodded, tugging Jimin along to the bedroom where they would wrap their arms around each other and sleep peacefully, breaths mingled together into the night both wondering without saying how much longer it was going to have to be this way.


Jin couldn’t sleep. Jimin and Yoongi’s breathing had evened out from the bed across the room ages ago, but Jin was still restless and awake and — damnit. He had to do something.

It didn’t take as much effort as he had thought it would to gather the other members from their sleep (excluding Jimin and Yoongi of course), the five members sitting up in the living room, dimly lit by the orange glow of one lamp as Jin pleaded his case.

“This isn’t working,” he said simply.

Taehyung huffed, dropping his chin to his fist. “Of course it’s not working,” he supplied. “It was never going to work. It’s just delaying the inevitable honestly.”

“But what is the inevitable?” Namjoon tried. “Is it them happily together forever, or is it something else? What if they break up? What if they really hurt each other in this? What if —.” He sighed. “It’s just complicated.”

“Of course it’s complicated,” Jin tried. “But I don’t think it should be up to us anymore.”

“They won’t do anything without our permission,” Jungkook said with a tired shrug.

“Except kiss in the bathroom,” Hoseok supplied.

“It’s been seven months,” Taehyung sighed like it was he who had to forgo the relationship for that long. “I think it’s a miracle that’s all they’ve done. You didn’t have to hear all of Jimin’s stories. Those guys were going at it like rabbits and I —.”

“Please stop,” Jungkook begged.

Hoseok frowned in disgust. “I really don’t want to know any of that.”

Taehyung shrugged.

“I’m not saying we need to give them out unconditional support the second they wake up,” Jin said. “But what I am saying is that we’re in a weird limbo right now. And we can stay there for a little bit longer, maybe even a couple years if you forced them too, but that’s all it is, is a limbo. It’s not changing anything. It’s not growing anything. All it’s doing is teaching them to close themselves off. And if you’re scared about something hurting the band, then that,” he waved out his hand, “is something you should be concerned about.”

“Then what do we do?” Namjoon asked, looking genuinely lost.

“We give them leeway. We wait for them to open up. We see where it goes. And for god’s sake, we stop ignoring that this is a thing. It’s not going away. It is a thing. It will continue to be a thing forever.” Jin looked at all of them in turn as he said that.

“They need our support,” Namjoon said in understanding. “But we need them to open up about it first.”

“Then tell them that,” Jin tried. “All of you, ask them questions, get them to talk about each other. You might throw up in your mouths a couple times, but it’ll be worth it.”

“How much longer?” Jungkook asked the older members. “How much longer until they can just … be?”

“Soon,” Jin said before anyone else could. He looked at them again. “I’m hoping for soon.”

Chapter Text

The comeback kept them all busy over the next few months, making it easy for the incident with the ring and the kiss to slip Yoongi and Jimin’s awareness. Made it easy for them to go unawares of their fellow bandmates private meetings late into the nights that didn’t include them and made the plotting go unnoticed. Jimin and Yoongi didn’t even seem to catch onto the (not subtle) attempts from their closest friends to get Jimin and Yoongi to open up about what was going on between them.

They did notice that they talked more about it, did notice that everyone continued to ask them questions about their relationship, that the others had even begun to casually tease Jimin and Yoongi for how they would look at each other or talk to each other or — god forbid — something they’d told the members about the other.

“So, this Hyung kink?” Taehyung started one lovely dinner with as he sat down by Yoongi, making the older choke on his rice while Jimin stood up to defend Yoongi’s honor, slapping his best friend on the arm.

And, oddly enough, it felt… normal. It felt exactly as it should’ve since the first day.

But Comebacks were stressful and busy as hell, so the normality of their situation seemed to slip under the radar.

But Namjoon and Jin were keeping tabs, the shift in the dynamic not escaping their awareness.

“They’re laughing more,” Jin commented to Namjoon as he took a break from their rigorous dance practice. Even as he spoke, Yoongi said something to Jimin that had him cackling, throwing his whole body into the laughter as he tended to do.

“It’s nice,” Namjoon said.

And Jin would just grin.

Would just grin because his plotting was far from over. 

Their Comeback went off without a hitch. The days were full of interviews and shows, performances and running around. The group was constantly on top of each other and running into each other and for the first time in a small eternity, it didn’t feel weird.

As concerts began in Korea, Jimin and Yoongi made sure not to end up in the same room together. Namjoon tried to give his it’s okay and we trust you speech, but Yoongi shook his head, Jimin admitting to the whole group after their first concert (and after a couple drinks in the hotel after) that, “You guys really do not get it. We have the combined self control of a three year old. Do not let us sleep in the same room without supervision.” To which Jin snorted and Hoseok made an exaggerated frowny face.

As their tour concluded in South Korea, they made a video for their fans watching their first music video they ever made and commenting on the silliness of their youthfulness. Jimin felt high off the tour, high with exhaustion and laughter. After their video to the fans left and the cameras left the room, Taehyung mentioned something about watching their other old music videos and within moments of the last person leaving them in the room their second song Bulletproof pt. 2 on the TV screen in front of them while they continued to cram on a couch way too small for all of them.

“Why are we watching this again?” Yoongi grumbled, freeing himself from the crowded couch to sit on the floor beside Jimin. “Why are we doing this to ourselves?”

“We were so cringy,” Namjoon exclaimed through where he was peaking through his fingertips like he was watching a horror movie.

Jimin was giggling with the others, laughing at how serious they took themselves at the time. 

Young Jimin lifted his shirt in the music video and Jimin was curling into ball of laughter and cringe as Taehyung hit him on the shoulder. He rolled to the side, uncurling as he laughed, his head falling into Yoongi’s lap as he covered his face with his hands.

Something else happened on the screen — he thought it was something with Namjoon— and they were all laughing, Jin’s windshield wiper laugh overtaking the room.

Jimin met Yoongi’s gaze, realizing where he’d ended up. He dropped his hand from his face, Yoongi looking down at him with a soft smile.

“Hi,” Jimin said softly.

“Hi,” Yoongi’s smile grew.

A pillow thunked against the side of Yoongi’s head, the older whipping around murderously as he locked gaze with Taehyung.

“Get a room,” Taehyung moaned exaggeratedly.

Yoongi slapped Taehyung’s knee.

“Sorry,” Jimin said, moving to sit up.

Jin leaned forward, pushing Jimin’s head so the younger fell back against Yoongi. “Oh, knock it off and keep being cute. There’s no cameras anymore.”

“But the —,” Jimin started.

“Shut up and be cute,” Jin kicked his foot at Jimin to keep him down.

Jimin’s brow furrowed as he slouched against Yoongi’s lap again, crossing his arms in his confusion.

Yoongi rubbed his thumb between Jimin’s eyebrows until the younger got the hint and released the tension there, scoffing a laugh at the older as he snatched his hand away from his face.

And if Jimin didn’t let go of that hand for an hour or two, none of the others brought it up.


It was their first night off in awhile.  Their last night off for a long while too, getting ready to venture out for their Japan tour — a stark reminder that it had been a full year since their last venture and an intimidating awareness that they would be going back, but they wouldn’t be allowed to do anything. Jimin was just glad for the break. His muscles were sill so sore from the last practice. He hadn’t mean o push himself the hard, but he must’ve because here was a dull ache that would spread whenever he went too long without moving out his limbs. All he wanted to do was curl up and read a book.

And if Yoongi was there too, he wasn’t going to oppose to that.

Which is why he may have strategically placed himself in the room that Jin and Yoongi shared — more specifically, on Yoongi’s bed, to enjoy his book, totally not waiting for Yoongi to get back from the studio.

Jin was sitting on his own bed, flipping through a magazine with a ridiculous panda face mask on. As he glanced over at Jimin, he scoffed a laugh, shaking his head. Jimin preened like he didn’t hear or see it, flipping the next page over his book as his cheeks tinted red. 

Yoongi pushed in the door a moment later, darting at the sight of Jimin on his bed, but he smiled shortly afterwards, dropping his bag to the ground against his bed and flopping onto the bed, arms wrapping around Jimin and taking him with him as he laid on top of the younger.

Jimin grunted, swatting his shoulder, “Hyung,” he whined. “Get off.”

Yoongi wound his arms tighter, smothering Jimin into the mattress as Jin judged them from afar.

Jimin relented into his fate, wiggling to free his arms so he could take his book back in hand and hold it above his head as Yoongi used his chest and neck as a pillow. Jimin held the book above his head, arm strained and aching, but it was worth it — worth it because he could keep his other arm resting around Yoongi, hand running through the tangled locks.

Yoongi hummed his appreciation, eyes closed as he used Jimin as a body pillow.

Jimin honestly thought Yoongi had fallen asleep with how much time went by, startling as Yoongi mumbled. “Whatcha reading?”

Jin moved from the room, without even a look at the others. It was nice to not feel babysat. Jimin realized it had actually been awhile since he’d felt like the others were babysitting him and Yoongi. It had been nice.

“Want me to read to you again?” Jimin asked.

Yoongi groaned as he pushed himself up, pouting as if it was someone else’s fault he was getting up.

“I need to shower still,” Yoongi complained, throwing a leg over Jimin so that he was sitting on his thighs. “You should not leave and stay here for when I get back and then you should read to me.”

Jimin laughed, sitting up to face Yoongi. “Is that all?”

“Please,” Yoongi added, tiredly rubbing at his face. 

Jimin pushed his arms back against the bed to lean into Yoongi’s personal space, the boy not even attempting to move away. “Baby,” Jimin cooed softly.

Yoongi pushed Jimin’s face, sending the younger down against the mattress, a flush on his cheeks. “You really need to stop calling me that,” Yoongi mumbled, adverting his gaze to the door.

“You know you like it,” Jimin wiggled his eyebrow.

“If they hear they’ll never let it go,” Yoongi whined, leaning forward, arms coming on either side go Jimin’s head to cage him in.

Jimin giggled at the thought, reaching up to trace his index finger from Yoongi’s nose over his lips.

Yoongi screwed his eyes closed with a sigh, pushing himself off Jimin to stand by the bed. “You’re the worst.”

Jimin gasped, sitting up, “What did I do?”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is not to kiss you when you breathe like that?” Yoongi shook his head, gathering clean pajamas from a drawer. 

“Breathe like that?” Jimin repeated.

“Look like that, breathe like that— you’re just the worst all around.”

Jimin scoffed in offense, flopping back to lay down. “Just hurry up and shower, you big baby.”

Yoongi glanced at the door once more, leaning over Jimin pecking him quickly on the temple.

Jimin beamed. “Hurry, hurry,” he sing-songed as Yoongi left.

When Yoongi returned, Jimin decided it was Yoongi’s turn to hold him. Jimin settled his back to Yoongi’s chest, the older wrapping his arms around him, resting his chin to Jimin’s shoulder as Jimin started to read.  

Yoongi traced over Jimin’s arms as he listened, more entranced with the boy reading them than the words themselves.

Jimin was in the middle of a sentence when he turned up to Yoongi and said, “I don’t get it.”

“The story?” Yoongi said?

“No,” Jimin closed the book. “They know we’re in here. They know we’re together. Do they not care anymore?” Jimin sat up and turned to him.

“They’re trying to trust us, Chim-ah. It’s nice, actually. Don’t you think?”

“It’s nice, but it’s…” Jimin looked to the door. “It’s like they don’t care that we’re like this anymore. Which is fine,” Jimin wished to explain. “It’s great. It’s just… if they’re fine with it, why aren’t we,” he gestured between them, “allowed to do stuff yet.”

Yoongi leaned forward, forcefully gathering Jimin back into his arms and pulling the younger into his lap. “Jimin, we’re not like we were last year. We were this close before —.”

“We were not this close before,” Jimin corrected.

Yoongi pursed his lips. “Yeah, you’re right.” He leaned back, against the bed frame. “Have we been pushing it? Should we maybe… back off?”

Jimin pouted, lying against Yoongi’s shoulder, “Noooo,” he whined.

Yoongi carded his hand through Jimin’s hair. “I want to do stuff too, Jimin,” he smiled softly. “I wanna kiss you and hold you and not feel like I’m restraining myself all the time. But we agreed to wait for them, to wait on them.” He sighed, “And they’re giving us more lenience. Maybe we should just enjoy it.”

“But what if they pull back again?” Jimin sat up. “What if they decide that we’re getting too close and they want us to pull away. I can’t do this back and forth, Hyung. It hurts.”

Yoongi pouted, reaching to cup Jimin’s cheek. “They’re trusting us, Jimin. We gotta do the same to them, yeah?”

Jimin sighed.

“Beside,” Yoongi shrugged. “It’s not everything, but I like this.” He gestured between them. “It feels good, right? How we are now?”

Jimin huffed, tugging at a strand of his hair. “It still feels like we’re holding back.”

“Of course we’re holding back,” Yoongi said. “If we weren’t, you know I’d be all over you right now.”

Jimin snorted, looking down. “I really do miss that.”

“Me too,” Yoongi sighed.

“I really really can’t wait to do you again,” Jimin huffed.

Yoongi laughed, shaking his head. “Jimin, you can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” He frowned.

“You’ll get me all riled up, which isn’t fair,” Yoongi held up a finger, “Because I can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh, please,” Jimin crossed his arms. “I’ve been riled up for a year. Do you have any idea how sexually backed up I am?”

Yoongi scoffed, “You really think I’m any better. Have you seen you?” He gestured at the younger. “Every dance practice I feel like I’m going to die.”

Jimin’s grin took over his face as he chuckled softly, shaking his head at Yoongi. His smile faded a little as he said, “I really hope it’s not much longer.”

Yoongi sighed, taking Jimin’s hand. “It could be, Jimin. It could be years. Are you still okay with this if that’s the case?”

Jimin tightened his own grip on Yoongi’s hand, glaring at the older. “Of course I’m still in, Idiot.”

Yoongi scoffed. “I’m your Hyung,” he tried.

“I’m still going to wish for it to be sooner,” Jimin went on like Yoongi hadn’t spoken. “I’m always going to be wishing for it to be sooner.”


Hoseok leaned over the two sleeping boys to snap a picture with his phone, creeping back to the door frame where Namjoon was shaking his head at him with a roll of his eyes, the others all cramming in the door space.

Hoseok held his phone like it was trophy. “They’re so cute,” he whisper called.

“That can’t be comfortable,” Jungkook tilted his head.

He was referring to the position the two individuals under scrutiny (Yoongi and Jimin) had found them in while asleep. Yoongi had curled up into his signature ball and Jimin had thrown a leg over Yoongi’s legs, chin resting on Yoongi’s head while the rest of their bodies were lost in the twisting of covers.

“They look comfortable to me,” Jin waved a hand at Jungkook.

Jungkook wiggled his nose and crossed his arms.

“Don’t you think we’re being a little creepy, guys,” Namjoon, always the voice of reason, tried.

“Nonsense,” Taehyung said, voice way too loud, immediately getting shushed by the others even as he went on. “We’re deciding a thing and visual reference is helpful.”

“None of that is right,” Namjoon said.

“We are deciding a thing,” Jin calmly defended, tugging Taehyung out of the way of Namjoon, the younger boy deciding this meant he could completely lean all of his weight against Jin, leaving the older to support him. 

“No, we’re not,” Hoseok shook his head. “It’s already decided. They’re going to be so excited.”

“I’m not mentally prepared for what’s going to follow,” Jin said, rubbing his temple.

Hoseok knocked his side. “Oh, come on. They’re going to be so excited.”

After the tour,” Namjoon said with a heavy sigh. “After Japan. Too risky before.”

Taehyung grinned at his Hyung. “You’re happy for them,” he practically sang.

Namjoon sighed. “Happy, yes. But definitely also worried.”

Jungkook leaned against Namjoon. “We’ll be okay, Hyung.”

Namjoon scoffed a small laugh, before reaching for the door. “I know we’ll be. Now stop creeping on your friends.”


The tour was exhausting. But Jimin felt exhilarated as he performed on the stage in Tokyo in front of thousands of fans, felt sated as the band hunched around a traditional styled table in a fancy Japanese restaurant to eat afterwards. Because they were together this time. And last year… well, that hadn’t exactly been the case.

Jimin supposed that having Yoongi then had come with a large price tag. All the sneaking around, lying, the deception — it had cost Yoongi and Jimin. A rift had developed because of those months, especially because of that week in Japan, and now they were back and — it had only taken a year — but things felt normal again.

Jimin wasn’t ecstatic that Yoongi sat at the opposite side of the table from him, sleeping in a separate bed in a separate hotel room — Jimin certainly wasn’t content with not being able to touch him (really touch him) for almost a year now — but he supposed things could be a lot worse. He could have lost a lot more.

And as Jungkook tried to balance a toothpick on his nose while Seokjin was trying to throw it off balance by tickling the younger member, Hoseok clapping and laughing while Taehyung tried to copy the action with a chopstick, Namjoon laughing until his eyes crinkled up, while Yoongi sat with an amused, content smile on his face watching it all — as all of that happened in front of Jimin’s vision, Jimin let him think about the what ifs.

What if he and Yoongi had stayed together, had continued to keep everything a secret? He doubted he’d feel so calm about his current situation, and doubted they would be able to regain this level of closeness after so long of Jimin pulling away in the midst of his own inner turmoils. 

What if they’d let them though…? What if the others had given Yoongi and Jimin the okay?

That was a hard one to consider. While Jimin really thought it would have turned out in the end, there was still the immediately after that made that hard to truly believe. Because Hoseok and Taehyung had essentially had to tell Jimin to knock it off after he and Yoongi came out and they said no. Yoongi and Jimin was secluded themselves so deeply into their own world with all the things that could go wrong flooding through their brains, that they had unintentionally pulled away from the rest of the group. There had been a trust broken there, and maybe a lot more.

Even after things had started to shift back to normality, Jimin and Yoongi had still kept their relationship as something hidden and deeply personal (mostly out of fear of disrupting the now fragile order of things).

They’d unintentionally cut themselves off.

But now — now things felt normal again.

And when Jimin met Yoongi’s gaze across the table, he could tell the older felt the same way.


The tour was exhausting, but the flight home really sealed the deal into plummeting Yoongi straight into the deepest polls of absolute exhaustion. He could barely keep his eyes open as the car drove them back to their apartment where his blessed bed was waiting for him, could barely keep track of the cityscape rushing by — was only kinda aware of Jimin beside him… well, under him mostly, since Yoongi had continued to lean further and further into Jimin’s seat until the younger had complied with an annoyed (not really) huff.

Jimin had turned in the seat, twisting his seat belt behind his back to face sideways as Yoongi fell into his open arms, face pressed to Jimin’s chest (and maybe he was just drooling a tiny tiny bit). Jimin’s fingers had been pushing through Yoongi’s hair since then, the soothing motions putting Yoongi into unconsciousness almost immediately. 

“Hyung,” a soft voice reached through the fog and haze as a hand tucked his hair carefully behind his ear, fingertips grazing to his jaw to raise the older’s chin in awakening. 

Yoongi groaned, blinking into consciousness.

Jimin was smiling, a soft laugh ringing through the air. “Cute.” The younger tilted his head. “But we’re home, Hyung.”

“Carry me,” Yoongi whined.

Jimin leaned closer as he laughed, eyes crinkling in the most perfect was as their noses brushed. “You’re such a baby,” he cooed the word.

And, damnit, Yoongi really didn’t mind it at all. He grumbled something incoherent even in his own brain, so it was a miracle any sound came out at all.

Arms were hoisting him from the vehicle by his waist, getting him to the edge of the seat. Jimin sighed in his efforts. “Hyung, you gotta help,” he whined.

Yoongi slanted his eyes open to see that the other members, also tired and desperate for sleep, had stopped by the entrance to watch Yoongi and Jimin’s efforts, teasing smirks tugging on their faces. Yoongi was too tired to care. He opened his arms and Jimin pulled them over his shoulders, the older latching his legs to Jimin’s waist as the younger hoisted his Hyung into a piggyback. Yoongi’s head came to immediately rest on the juncture of Jimin’s shoulder and he became unaware of the world again until he was being lowered into his own bed.

Mostly because Jimin dropped him, almost falling on top of the older.

Yoongi groaned with a pout.

Jimin chuckled, “Sorry, Hyung.”

Yoongi was barely still awake as Jimin changed him into fresh pajamas and pulled the covers over him, but was still conscious enough to latch onto Jimin’s wrist when the younger tried to pull away, mumbling a word that was supposed to be stay, but maybe wasn’t.

Yoongi laughed again, returning to the side of the bed. “Scoot over.”

Yoongi complied, feeling the bed dip beside his head before careful fingers were pulling His head up, resting it back down into Jimin’s lap. Yoongi repositioned into a state of comfortability and remembered little past that except Jimin’s careful touches, warm smell, and perfect comfort. 


“Oh, hey, Jimin, you’re still in here?” Jin’s voice rang softly as he pushed his way into his own room.

Jimin started, hand coming to his face quickly, wiping at the tears there in panic, his other hand resting gently on Yoongi’s head, the older still fast asleep in his lap. “Uh, yeah,” Jimin tried to cover.

“Jimin,” Jin’s voice immediately switched to concern. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Jimin said stupidly even as he sniffled, wiping tear tracks aside still.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Hyung,” Jimin smiled to Jin, forced amongst still drying tears. “I’m fine. Just tired from all the traveling.”

“I thought you guys said you weren’t going to lie anymore.” Jin sunk onto the bed by Yoongi’s feet, watching carefully as Jimin continued to card his hand through, the now, disarrayed strands of hair, touches soft and gentle and filled with so much love and care.

Jimin stared down at his sleeping friend and old lover and gave a small shrug. “I guess I just miss him.”

Jin’s brow furrowed as he looked between them.

“I keep thinking,” Jimin sniffled again, “What would’ve happened if we’d just… done it right,” he said. “Yoongi said he believed we still would’ve gotten together at some point, it just would’ve taken more time. And, I don’t know. I was thinking that maybe if we hadn’t met up in that club, we could be together by now, but like really together — how people are supposed to do it, because if we did it right, you would still trust us and things wouldn’t have gotten so estranged and it’s all our fault and I get that, but I —.”

“Whoa, hey, Jimin,” Jin interrupted, holding up his hands before dropping one to Jimin’s arms. “Hey, you know we trust you. That’s not an issue anymore.”

“Then why—.” Jimin clamped his mouth to keep the words from coming out, feeling more tears well up in his eyes. His hold tightened around his sleeping Hyung, almost protectively. “I’m sorry. I understand. You know I understand. I don’t know why—.”

“Patience,” Jin squeezed his arm. “Please, Jimin. Just a little bit more.”

But how much more? He wanted to ask. Another year? Two years? A decade? Because Jimin wanted it now. He wanted to have a relationship with Yoongi. He wanted to try. He wanted to hold him like he had in Japan and tell his parents some day and worry about what their fans would think rather than if he’d ever even get the chance to have him again.

He nodded his head instead of saying any of that.

“Don’t be sad, Jimin. It’s going to be okay.”

“I know, Hyung,” Jimin nodded. “I’m just tired from the flight.”

“Maybe you should get to bed then,” Jin gestured to Yoongi. “He’ll be fine like that for awhile, don’t you think?”

Jimin nodded, but made no effort to move.


“I think I’ll stay a little longer,” Jimin said, meeting Jin’s gaze. “Just a little longer.”

“Okay,” Jin stood up from the bed, patting at Jimin’s head and affectionally ruffling his hair before sitting on his own bed. Jin would eventually fall into his own sleep and when that happened, Jimin was still there, still holding Yoongi, still running his fingers through his hair.


“I just don’t understand why they made us go grocery shopping together,” Yoongi huffed as they made their way into the local grocery store, bundled up tight in oversized coats, face masks in place, and a mission in mind.

“Maybe they were trying to give us some time together,” Jimin shrugged, also feeling the weight of confusion at their bandmates antics to get them to leave.

“We could have time together inside,” Yoongi turned, walking backwards to face Jimin, hands still shoved deep in his coat pockets. “Where it’s not cold and there are beds.”

Jimin shrugged. “It’s nice to get outside.”

“It’s bothersome,” Yoongi huffed. “This list is so long,” he pulled it out to look at it. “Why do we need three bottles of vodka and a pack of solo cups? Why do we need any of this stuff?” He flipped it over.

“Come on, Hyung,” Jimin grabbed his arm, dragging him along.

It took too long in Yoongi’s opinion, and he still didn’t know what half the stuff was even needed for. But he supposed it was okay. Supposed that he didn’t mind so much when he got to watch Jimin struggle to reach something off the top shelf, reaching high over his head, standing on his tip-toes. Supposed he didn’t mind when Jimin would his arm around Yoongi own as they walked through the aisles. And supposed he didn’t mind when Jimin fed Yoongi a sample from a station in the grocery store.

But he definitely did mind the cold. And really minded that he and Jimin had to lug eight grocery bags between them a block’s distance to their apartment.

But he got to hear the younger’s laughter when Yoongi tripped over an uneven slant in the sidewalk and maybe that made it all worth it.

They tromped up a series of stairs and turned to the door, Yoongi reminding himself to make Jin do some ridiculous task for him later to make up for this weird and unrelenting request to go to the grocery store. Like, what was that about? It was so sudden and so demanding and they basically pushed them out the door? 

Yoongi pushed his way in, Jimin just a step behind him.


Yoongi’s heart jolted in his chest as confetti fell all over their heads, Taehyung right by his head blowing a kazoo and Yoongi was holding eight grocery bags and blinking at his closest friends as they screamed surprise and threw confetti on him and his brain needed a second to catch up.

“Uh,” he said stupidly. “Why?”

He looked around.

Hoseok excitedly pointed up and Yoongi let his eyes train up at a big blue banner tied over the entrance to the hall. The banner was one of those ones for baby showers, clearly reading: Congratulations! It’s a boy! Except someone had crosses out the last word, writing above it so that it said:  Congratulations! It’s a gay. Which had then been remodified again by a piece of paper stapled over the words it’s and a, that had fallen mostly off the word so the final version of the sign read: Congratulations! You’re gay.

Jimin chuckled disbelievingly. “What is this?” He stepped in, bags slipping from his arms to the floor as he set about toeing off his own shoes. 

“It’s your coming out party,” Namjoon said with a soft smile. 

Jimin straightened at that, Yoongi still standing in the same spot, blinking at his friends.

“Our what?” He asked.

“We didn’t,” Hoseok twisted his fingers together, “handle it perfectly when you guys came out a year ago.”

Jin jumped in then, “We didn’t really do anything. And it was kinda a big deal. And a really big thing for you guys. And we just… glanced over it.”

“The whole banging each other thing kinda took priority,” Jungkook waved his finger between them.

Jin swatted him lightly on the head and Yoongi scoffed.

“I’m your Hyung, you brat,” Yoongi said, waddling from the entry way with the plastic bags still on his arms.

“I can’t believe you guys did this,” Jimin said, emotion clouding his words as he stared around at his friends. “You didn’t ––.”

“— have to,” Jin interrupted, crossing his arms. “We know. But we love you guys and we should’ve handled this better a year ago.”

“So we decided to throw you a party,” Taehyung exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Jimin’s next and squeezing him into a hug. “It’s your one year coming out anniversary.” 

Jimin turned to his friend. “Oh my gosh, it is, isn’t it?”

“Is that why you made us get vodka?” Yoongi pulled one of the bottles out.

“Yep,” Hoseok popped his ‘p.’ 

“We want you guys to know that we support you,” Namjoon said. “In all things. Especially this. So we’re here and we want to celebrate this really big milestone with you.” 

“Aw, Hyung’s being mushy,” Taehyung beamed. 


“You can’t get drunk!” Namjoon announced as Taehyung took a swig from one of the bottles. “Nobody gets drunk,” he waved out his arms.

“You’re no fun,” Taehyung frowned.

“Tonight is important,” Namjoon said, a hint hiding in his voice as the others gathered around with chips and cups of alcohol. 

“Let the kid get drunk,” Yoongi said, sipping his own cup.

Namjoon fixed Taehyung with a stare. “No.”

Taehyung pouted, taking another drawn out sip.

“Let’s play a game,” Hoseok plopped down. “Since we’re celebrating sexuality and expression, let’s play a game of Truth. If you refuse to answer, you have to take a shot.”

“That’s fine and all,” Jimin came and sat beside Yoongi, casting him a smile as he sunk down with his own glass cradled in his arms. “But I feel like we already know everything about each other.”

“Fine,” Namjoon said. “Jimin, truth or truth?”

Jimin scoffed. “Truth.”

“What’s the weirdest thing Yoongi made you do… in bed?” he clarified. 

Yoongi coughed on his drink, casting Namjoon a hard glare while Hoseok and Taehyung snickered on the couch behind where Namjoon sat on the ground.

Jimin flushed violently as he looked away. “I uh—uh—.”

“Chim-ah,” Yoongi nudged him, “don’t take a shot for that. We didn’t even do anything that weird.”

“I guess the Hyung thing,” Jimin murmured against the rim of his cup.

“That’s the weirdest thing?” Hoseok said. “Wow. I woulda thought Yoongi would be kinkier than that.”

“My turn,” Jimin interjected. “Jin-Hyung, truth or truth?”

Jin straightened in a sense of panic. “Truth.”

“Would you ever have sex with a guy, just to try it out?” Jimin titled his head.

Yoongi smirked beside him.

Jin thought for a moment. “That would take insinuating circumstances, but I can’t rule it out one hundred percent. Hoseok, truth or truth.” He said it all in one breath.


“If you had to sleep with one of us, which one?”

Hoseok chocked on his drink, thought a moment, and answered, “Taehyung.”

Screeching ensued and the game continued.


It wasn’t until later that Jimin felt happily sated from alcohol. They’d eaten, they’d drank, and he felt that perfect ache in his side from laughing so hard with all of his friends. Truth or Truth had come to an end, Jungkook and Taehyung playing a game of Mario cart while the rest of them continued in leisure conversation.

“Hey guys,” Namjoon announced, pushing from the kitchen counter to head into the main room. “Gather up.” He looked back at Jimin and Yoongi. “It’s present time.”

“Presents?” Jimin straightened, shaking his head. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing much,” Namjoon smiled. He nodded and the others seemed to understand, coming together in the front room where Jungkook and Taehyung immediately turned off their game — mid-game!

That was weird for sure.

But what weirder was when their bandmates gathered on and around the couch, facing them as Jin pushed them to sit on the ground before also squeezing to fit on the couch arm. And then they were all looking at them, expectantly.

Jimin glanced to Yoongi before looking back to them.

“Oh,” Hoseok straightened, reaching behind him and tugging an envelope from his pocket. He looked it over once before he handed it to Yoongi.

Yoongi looked at it and then up at them, turning it over in his fingers. There was a weird kind of tape on the front of the envelope. He looked up at them.

Taehyung kicked his leg out at them. “Open it,” he insisted.

Yoongi looked confusedly between the envelope and his friends.

Jimin gave an endeared roll of his eyes and snatched the letter from Yoongi, tearing it open. Inside was one folded piece of paper and five… tiny torn shreds of paper?

Jimin furrowed his brow at the others, turning the folded piece of paper in his hands. Taped closed, on the letter was the word: rules.

“Read that later,” Jin waved his hand.

Jimin placed the folded piece of paper on the ground. Dumping the rest of the envelope at as the five pieces of paper fell to the carpet. Jimin turned them over and stared down at five pieces of paper reading “yes” in different handwritings.

Yoongi leaned over Jimin’s shoulder to see and furrowed his brow, glancing at his friends in turn.

“Pull off the sticker,” Namjoon said with a nod and a soft smile.

Yoongi took the envelope, turning it over and peeling off the sticker, finding that it came off easily, more like cling wrap than an actual sticker and revealed the writing on the envelope:

Yoongi + Jimin (with a heart drawn around them). Yes or no?

“We took a vote,” Jin said.

Jimin whipped his gaze up to their oldest member.

“A month ago actually,” Jungkook crossed his arms.

“But we wanted it to be special,” Hoseok excused.

Jimin was whipping his gaze between them, jerking so that it fell on Yoongi and Yoongi alone.

“Yes?” Yoongi said, fingers curling around the torn pieces of paper. “You guys are going to let us…?”

“Yes,” Namjoon said exasperatedly. “Yes. Be together. Be gross and weird.” He waved his hands, a teasing smile on his lips. “But there are rules,” he clarified.

But Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to care, not when he was turning his gaze to find Jimin’s already on him. The younger’s hand cupping over his mouth in disbelief and Yoongi couldn’t believe this. Couldn’t believe that this was real.

He really wanted to —.

Jimin surged forward, hands clapping on either side of Yoongi’s face as he surged forward and connected their lips.

Yoongi closed his eyes tight, grabbing at Jimin to tug him closer even as their lips separated and the younger fell against Yoongi in a bone crushing hug, sending Yoongi toppling backwards against the carpet.

“Do you uh… do you uh need a moment?” Jungkook looked down at them.

“Shut up,” Jimin pressed his face to Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Are you crying?” Hoseok cooed.

“Shut up,” Jimin repeated, and, yeah, he was definitely crying.

Yoongi wrapped his arms around the younger’s shoulders. “Give him a minute,” Yoongi mouthed to the others, feeling a smile tug on his own lips as his chest just seemed to bloom. He could feel a flush burning on his own cheeks because Jimin just kissed him … in front of all of them.

Jimin turned his head where it rested on Yoongi’s chest to face the others. “You mean it?” He asked.

Hoseok chuckled. “It would be kinda awkward if we tried to take it back now.”

Yoongi pushed himself to sit up, forcing Jimin to do the same. But it didn’t take much for Jimin to comply, as he was already jumping out of Yoongi’s lap to rush to the others, wrapping his arms tight around Jin and Taehyung’s necks as he hugged them tight with a, “Thank you. Oh my god, thank you.”

“It’s a little overdue honestly,” Namjoon leaned forward to ruffle Jimin’s hair.

“But,” Jin pulled back, “Rules. Rule are important.”

“Jin wrote the first one,” Namjoon explained as Yoongi tugged the letter open.

“No having sex with someone else in the room,” Yoongi read out-loud, narrowing his gaze at Jin. “Really?”

“I’ve heard Taehyung’s stories that he got from Jimin,” Jin said. “You guys are nasty and I won’t have that while I’m sleeping in the same room as you.”

“Which is why…” Hoseok began.

Jin sighed. “We’re going to switch up rooms next week.”

Jimin sat back, blinking at his friends until the explained.

“We’re going to let you and Yoongi stay in the same room,” Taehyung nodded. “If you want to that is,” but he was smiling like he already knew the answer.

“I’m sharing with Jungkook, the others are moving into the other room,” Jin said like it was already decided. Because… Jimin supposed, it was already decided.

“You’ve been planning this?” He sat back.

They nodded.

Jimin maybe kinda felt like he was going to start crying again. 

“You’ll have to keep it a secret,” Namjoon sighed. “We’re sorry, but —.”

“Rule number two,” Yoongi held up the list. “We got it.”

“If something happens though,” Namjoon sat forward. “If people find out, if something goes wrong, we’ll be here though. No matter what.”

“We’ve talked through all the possibilities,” Hoseok nodded. “We’re all in agreement.”

Yeah, Jimin was probably going to cry.

“Jimin, don’t cry,” Hoseok whined, walking to the younger to cup his face, a smile still holding to his lips.

Jimin wiped at his eyes, still smiling behind the tears as he latched onto his Hyung. “Thank you,” Jimin muttered out.

“Awww,” Hoseok exclaimed, arm latching around Yoongi’s neck to pull him into the hug too.

Yoongi grunted in defiance, but there was still a smile pulling on his face, a genuine one— one where his gums smile and his eyes squinted closed and — good god Jimin really wanted to kiss that smile.

His heart fluttered under the realization that is he wanted to, he could just reach out and kiss Yoongi if he wanted to.

The thought was so distracting, it took him a moment to realize that Taehyung, Jungkook, Namjoon, and Jin had joined their group hug on the ground — mostly exaggerating the friendly gesture to tease Yoongi and Jimin as they ruffled their hair and jostled them around.

When they finally split apart Jimin was already falling back against Yoongi, gaze locked to the older smile, really wondering if he could get away with what his brain was occupied thinking about without getting relentlessly teased for the remainder of the night.

Yoongi looked down and caught his gaze, arm coming to rest around his waist and Jimin was already melting before the older tucked his chin down to capture this kiss Jimin wanted so badly.

A pillow smacked them both against the head and Jimin didn’t even care. He wrapped his arm to Yoongi’s neck to pull himself closer and straighten, Jimin turning so that he was sitting in between Yoongi’s legs, back to his front.

Yoongi immediately readjusted to the new position, arms coming around Jimin’s middle as he rested his chin to Jimin’s shoulder.

Jimin sighed, hands holding Yoongi’s arms in place. Because it felt right. For the first time in so long, everything just felt so… perfect. 

Jimin’s heart was bursting with excitement, but even in that he could sense a simple moment when the excitement would despite and there would be only the reality in a new present and Jimin could already tell it would be perfect. Could already tell it would be everything he could ever want. That it would be… perfect.

“Let’s play another game,” Hoseok proposed, “I’ll get the booze.”

And just like that, it was normal again. 

Jimin in Yoongi’s arms while they took shots during “Never Have I Ever” (a game horrifically structured against the only two gay men in the group, so much so that they had to reevaluate the rules so that no call-out could be specified towards one gender) was normal. Yoongi’s forehead resting to the side of Jimin’s head as his drunkenness turned him tired was normal. The soft touches of Yoongi’s fingers against Jimin’s arms and sides —anywhere he could touch — was normal.

“Baby,” Yoongi muttered against Jimin’s ear. Hw word was muttered so softly, so fondly, Jimin could tell it only existed for him. “Why are you crying?”

Jimin reached up to his eyes, surprised to find hat Yoongi’s words were true. He stared at the tear on his fingertip. “Oh,” he said, glancing around at his drunken friends, finding them all too distracted to notice his own tears. “I’m just really happy,” Jimin craned his head to look at Yoongi.

The older’s thumb brushed under his eye to remove the tears. “So you’re crying?”

Jimin pouted.

“You always cry so easily,” Yoongi smiled fondly as he said it.

Jimin deepened his pout.

Yoongi leaned in close, nose brushing Jimin’s cheek. “I love it, you know.” Softer he added, “I love you.”

Jimin’s gaze fluttered closed. It had been so long since he’d heard those words— so incredibly long. He took a moment to breathe them in, holding Yoongi’s arms tighter around his middle. “I love you too.”

Yoongi kissed his cheek, nipping at Jimin’s earlobe and it had also been so incredibly long since they did something else.

“Yoongi, I want —.” Jimin started.

“Should we —.” Yoongi began at the same time.

Jimin thought for a moment. “Tomorrow?” And already excitement was blooming in his gut. “I want to be sober.”

Yoongi laughed out loud, face falling against the crook in Jimin’s neck. “Yeah, good call. I would be very disappointed if I forgot even the smallest detail.”

Jimin was flushing. Hard.

As if catching up on their thoughts, Jin spoke then. “I can stay in Jimin’s bed tonight if you want the room to yourselves.” He wiggled his brow.

“We’re okay,” Yoongi assured, arm falling over Jimin’s shoulder. “Alcohol and sex aren’t a good mix.”

His bluntness made Jungkook cough in discomfort, turning his gaze away. Jimin flushed violently, but Yoongi looked so smug, he found his embarrassed laughter turning into actual laughter.

Namjoon cleared his throat. “Okay then.”

“But, uh,” Yoongi cleared his own throat. “I might be at the studio super late tomorrow night.”

“Yeah. And I really have to work on that choreography,” Jimin nodded along. “I probably will be super late as well. You guys shouldn’t wait up.”

“Noted,” Jin said, sipping his beer.


“The hotel’s a nice touch,” Jimin said as he flopped onto he white bedded mattress, body bouncing as he stretched out like a cat on the soft bedding.

“I really didn’t want our first time in over a year to be overheard by our closest friends.” Yoongi slid his coat off his shoulders, dropping it down on a chair. His ripped jeans and black shirt were simple and perfect and god it had been so long and Jimin was basically already stripping him in his mind.

“Stop,” Yoongi pressed his fists to the mattress, leaning over Jimin.

Jimin’s lip slipped from between his teeth. “Stop what?”

“Staring,” Yoongi said as he drew his gaze down Jimin’s entire body.

Jimin scoffed in offense. “I wouldn’t have to stare if you would do something.”

Yoongi laughed, wide and perfect. “We’ve been in here for five minutes,” he straightened to raise his hand towards the door.

Jimin sat up, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s neck and pulling him down.

Yoongi fell unceremoniously down on top of Jimin, barely managing to prop his arms up to keep from colliding with he boy as Jimin pressed their lips together. 

“You don’t think it’s suspicious,” Jimin broke apart the kiss quickly. And Yoongi loved how Jimin looked under him like this, where he was close enough to feel the younger’s breathing. “That we rented a hotel? You don’t think someones’ going to pick up on that? Like the press or a fan or —?”

Yoongi interrupted Jimin with a kiss. “We have an advantage in all of this, Jimin. Don’t you see?” He kissed the Youngers confused expression, kissed his nose, pecked his lips. “We’re us. We’re already so close, living on top of each other.”

Jimin looked down at where Yoongi was literally on top of him.

“We can make up any excuse for why we do anything, you know? So, for example, this. Let’s say someone says something about us renting a hotel room, we just say we were working on a song and needed to get away, needed to close everything out to really think about the lyrics. Something like that, yeah?”

The tension left Jimin’s expression and he nodded.

Yoongi kissed him again. “I don’t want you to be afraid to be with me.”

Jimin let a small smirk steal his expression. “I’m not. I’m scared of not being with you. That’s the problem.”

Yoongi lowered himself to press a kiss under Jimin’s jaw, traveling down to kiss his throat, feeling the muscles move as Jimins swallowed. A soft sound fell past Jimin’s lips and Yoongi’s heart had never felt so full. 

Jimin wrapped his arms around Yoongi, guiding the older’s lips, but mostly just holding him close. His skin seemed to buzz with excitement, his heart thudding readily in his chest.

“Even if the whole world knew,” Yoongi nipped at Jimin’s ear again. “I would still be with you.”

“Take off my clothes,” Jimin whined in response.

Yoongi scoffed at him. “I’m trying to be romantic.”

“I’m trying to get laid,” Jimin wiggled down, a mischievous smile on his face. 

“You brat,” Yoongi said even as he grabbed the belt loops on Jimin’s pants. 

Jimin’s hands intertwined with the strands of Yoongi’s hair as the older slid down, fingers coming to grope at Jimin’s buttons. His head was level with Jimin’s crotch — something Jimin was so very aware of it made it almost impossible to sit still.

“I’ve missed this so much,” Jimin said as Yoongi unzipped his pants.

“I haven’t even done anything,” Yoongi smirked. 

“It’s been so long,” Jimin whined. 

“I’ve been suffering too,” Yoongi gave Jimin’s pants a violent tug. “Especially during dance practice. Holy shit. I deserve a medal.”

Jimin laughed, head falling back against the mattress. He propped himself up then. “I can’t give you a medal, but I might think of a reward.”

Yoongi pushed himself forward to kiss Jimin on the lips before sliding back down. “You first.”


Jimin didn’t last long. The first time that is. It had been a year and Yoongi was so careful and thorough and… he was there and his mouth was so soft and so warm. His grip was so deliberate as he traced his hands up under Jimin’s shirt, tracing patterns over his skin, hands firm and perfect and yeah. It really didn’t take Jimin that long.

But it had been a year and Jimin was wasn’t done.

Shirts fell away as they rolled in the bed, Jimin landing onto of Yoongi as he tugged the older’s pants free from his thighs, down off his feet until he could move back up to reattach their lips and slip his hand down Yoongi’s boxers.

Yoongi’s moans were deep and guttural, his lips encouraging as nipped at Jimin’s neck and throat.

Jimin was overtly pleased that Yoongi didn’t last very long either. Jimin kissed Yoongi through his orgasm, kissed him until they both felt breathless.

And then they needed a break. And, scientifically speaking, sixteen minutes before they would be ready to go again — something Jimin pointed out matter-of-factly which made Yoongi laugh until his sides hurt as he managed a wheezy, “Why do you know that?”

Jimin only grinned in response.

“So, we have exactly sixteen minutes to kill, apparently,” he scoffed. “What do you want to do?”

“I want chocolate.”

“Of course you do,” Yoongi almost scoffed.


“I got almond or dark,” Yoongi returned into the hotel room, his clothing a bit disarrayed from his rushed attempt to throw it back on to please Jimin, who was still spread out on the bed. The only difference: he had removed his shirt and boxers and was now butt-ass naked.

Which maybe made Yoongi trip over nothing.

Jimin laughed at him.

Yoongi tossed him the chocolate bars, violently tugging off his own clothes in haste.

Jimin sat up, tugging the corner of the wrapper free and taking his first bite of the chocolate with a satisfied moan.

“You didn’t make that sound for me,” Yoongi joked, sitting on the edge of the bed as he tugged off his pants.

Jimin giggled. “You’re not chocolate,” he joked back.

Yoongi flipped over, only in his boxers as he leaned in close to Jimin’s face. The boy who had a shard of chocolate broken from the bar hanging past his lips, his eyes widening in shock at their sudden proximity. 

Yoongi sunk his teeth into the piece jutting out, biting into it as Jimin’s shock turned wider and Yoongi was rolling to the side, flopping on his back, chewing his chocolate slowly while Jimin stared down at him, the shock still present and a tiny piece of chocolate still sticking past his lips.

Jimin chewed and swallowed his own mouthful. “That was a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Yoongi rolled over, wrapping an arm around Jimin to pull him down alongside him. 

Jimin plopped his head down on the same pillow Yoongi was using, leaning in to kiss the chocolate taste off the older’s lips. Yoongi deepened the kiss immediately, hand coming to the back of Jimin’s head. Yoongi was rolling onto the younger when Jimin broke the kiss.

“Wait,” he flopped his hand across the bed, grabbing the half eaten candy bar. “I want to finish my chocolate.”

Yoongi scoffed. “Fine,” he sighed, wrapping his arm domestically around the younger while he stuffed his face. Yoongi could not even express how happy it made him to see Jimin eat for the sheer enjoyment of it all. Jimin had always adored chocolate. But there had been that awful period of time when Jimin hadn’t had any. Yoongi even remember a distinct time when he bought Jimin his favorite type of chocolate, only to find it the next day unopened in the garbage.

Jimin had come a long way. And Yoongi was so, so proud of him.

It was that thought that made Yoongi realize that they had come a long way. And he was so, so proud of them.

“I’ll just wait here,” Yoongi pretended to complain, pretended like he wasn’t still thinking about how happy Jimin eating chocolate made him. “Forever if I need to.”

Jimin rolled his eyes at Yoongi theatrics.

“I’d wait forever for you.”

Jimin looked over at him then, fondness reflecting in his eyes. “You’re such a sap.”

Yoongi smiled up at him.

“I love you so much,” Jimin pushed his hand through Yoongi’s hair. 

Yoongi turned his head to kiss Jimin’s wrist. He then took the boy’s hand in his own to move his lips over Jimin’s hand to his knuckles. “I can’t wait to do this with you.”

“I told you,” Jimin said amusedly. “After the chocolate.”

“I’m not talking about the sex,” Yoongi said. “I mean,” he backtracked a moment, “I also can’t wait to do that, but I’m mostly asking about,” he gestured between them, “this.”

“Me too,” Jimin interlocked his finger’s with Yoongi’s. “We’re going to be so great together.”

“We already are,” Yoongi said.

“I’ll hurry,” Jimin gestured to his chocolate bar.

“Don’t,” Yoongi settled more comfortable against the mattress. “I’m fine like this.”

“Do you want some?” Jimin broke off a piece.

Yoongi parted his lips and Jimin placed it carefully between them. Yoongi had never been really fond of chocolate, but after tasting it on Jimin, he knew he could definitely get used to it.

“You should take off your boxers,” Jimin said offhandedly as he popped the last piece into his mouth.

Yoongi smiled and complied.

It wasn’t even a minute later that Jimin was on top of him, straddling him as he leaned over the older.

“Hi,” he said breathlessly.

“Hey,” Yoongi smiled up at him.

“Do you ever want to do this part?” Jimin asked, tilting his head. “When we did it the first time, you said you could do either, but I’m the only one who’s ever bottomed.”

“Do you want me to bottom tonight?” Yoongi asked. And he was willing if Jimin wanted it, willing without question.

“Not tonight,” Jimin said. “Just, maybe sometime?”

“Sometime for sure.” Yoongi assured. Because there was going to be a sometime. There was going to be a thousand times and Yoongi was so content in that thought.

“Great,” Jimin grinned, leaning down to kiss Yoongi.

The bare nakedness of their condition made their arousal hit them soon and hard, naked skin moving together, desperate for friction as their lips relearned to conform around the other’s. Panting filled the air, gasps coming out not much later.

“Yoongi,” Jimin whined, quickly backtracking with that mischievous smile on his lips as he sinfully moaned, “Hyung,” his smiled almost cancelling out the effects when he muttered softly, “Baby.”

Yoongi sighed, hands resting desperately on Jimin’s hips. “What do you want, Chim-ah?”

“You. Or your fingers. But, you know, something inside me.”

“If you insist,” Yoongi said, sitting up, almost offsetting Jimin’s balance, except Yoongi’s arms were already in place to catch him.

Yoongi flipped them over, Jimin squeaking as he hit the mattress again. 

“You brought the lube, right?” Yoongi asked.

Jimin’s face immediately slacked, panicked grief twisting in his features as he said, “No, I didn’t. I thought…”

Jimin trailed off as Yoongi smiled down on him, shaking his head.

Yoongi leaned over to snag the lube from his jacket pocket — the jacket itself strewn on the ground. Yoongi waved he lube at Jimin, who was pouting at Yoongi.

“Will you ever be prepared for one of our sexcapades?”

Jimin narrowed his gaze. “I don’t need to be prepared when I’m with you, because you’re the prepared one. It’s actually your fault,” Jimin kept going, crossing his arms, which was a little ridiculous with their absolute nakedness and the fact that both of them had boners. “You’ve always been prepared in the past, so you’ve conditioned me to not be. I’m reliant on you and —.”

Yoongi interrupted him with a kiss.


There were many things Jimin had missed over the last year. So many, that making a list of them all seemed too obnoxious of a project to actually ever start. But maybe Jimin had forgotten just a little bit about how amazing it felt to have Yoongi slide his length into him. And maybe if he had remembered it as clearly as he felt it then, he would’ve been tempted to make that list.

The sound that fell past Jimin’s lips when Yoongi pushed in was a mix between a gasp and a cry and the pitched drawl of it was as unexpected as the quiver in Jimin’s thighs. Yoongi’s own groan go caught in his throat at hearing — and, good god, seeing— Jimin, so it came out more like a choke as Yoongi stared down at the love of his life and felt that insistent quiver in his thighs from where they pressed to Yoongi’s hips.

“Yoongi-Yoongi-Yoongi,” Jimin chanted as his hands grasped at the older, holding to anything they could reach and pull an as he tried to push himself down onto the member. “Please. Please, I want — need—,” Jimin cut himself off with his own whine and Yoongi was already gone as he leaned in to steal the sound straight from the younger’s mouth.

Yoongi was deliberate in his movements, careful with every touch as Jimin immediately started to move with him, responding to every single movement of Yoongi’s with his own set of sounds and jerks. 

Yoongi had missed how perfectly they’d always managed two move together, the simplicity with how well they worked together, being what kept them apart in those months when their identities were not shared between them. He’d missed how perfectly Jimin always fit against him, like a puzzle piece or the other half of a locket. He’d missed how needy Jimin was in bed, how he’d grab and hold Yoongi as close as he could get him.

Yoongi missed how emotionally Jimin made love, how every sound kinda sounded like a song, how intentional Jimin was with every touch, how sometimes tears would well in his eyes or shimmer just beneath them and it was never from any form of pain.

Yoongi missed Jimin. But the thought that there would be no more missing him, no more having to, it made his heart feel calm even within the arousal and the excitement.

Many of their sexcapades had resulted in much more intense proceedings two reach a completion, from the time they fought, to their second meet up, to the bathroom blowjob. But there was something so perfect about knowing this didn’t have to be it, that there was almost no possibility of this being the last time that made it easy for both of them to just lose themselves completely in the feeling of each other.

They would have hundreds of times to be back in this same position, so just keeping close, moving together, and feeling each other — it was enough and then some.

They tipped over the edge one after the other, first Jimin whose release met him with such a pitched whine and a tightening of where his body held Yoongi’s that Yoongi had almost no choice butt to topple over the edge of release with him not much later.

Exhausted, they managed to clean each other up before seeking shelter under the comforter. Yoongi turned off the lights, plunging them into darkness and Jimin curled up close beside him. It felt like before, in Japan, when they had kissed each other until they fell asleep, but it felt like more.

There was no urgency or rush, no looming deadline or guilt creeping under their skin. There was no end in sight, just time — time that they now had.

Yoongi reached into the night to rest his fingers against Jimin’s chin. “I’m happy,” he whispered into the night.

“Me too,” Jimin said.

“Thank you for waiting for our someday,” Yoongi’s low voice grumbled in the night.

Jimin smiled, a small laugh falling at the words. “I would’ve waited a thousand someday’s for you.”

Chapter Text

One Year Later


Yoongi repositioned himself, throwing his leg over Jimin’s lap to straddle him as their lips reconnected with a wet sound. His hands were already searching, pushing up under the younger’s shirt to draw out soft sounds from his lips. Jimin’s tongue pushed past Yoongi’s own, sliding across the roof of Yoongi’s mouth and the older took a moment to suck the wet muscle between his lips before their mouths were sliding back together and Yoongi was gaining the upper hand again. On top of Jimin, it made it easy to take the lead and claim dominance as the younger held him with stubby fingers tangled in his hair, held him like he was dying of thirst and Yoongi was the water.

“How many times are we going to have to walk in on this!” Namjoon’s panicked voice carried seconds after the front door clicked open — a sound neither Jimin nor Yoongi had been present enough to hear.

Jimin squeaked, the heavy seduction gone in a second as he twisted out from under Yoongi and crashed to the ground by the sofa.

Yoongi fell against the couch, chuckling as he watched Jimin sit up, face flushed violently as he tried to right his clothing and hair.

“Sorry, Joon,” Yoongi said with a smile and an air that did not ring with any form of apology ad Yoongi’s gaze continued to watch Jimin’s struggle, a fond amused look following every single one of the younger’s movements.

Hoseok and Jungkook stepped in after Namjoon, both looking disgruntled from the assault their bandmates had made on their eyes and minds.

“Rule seventeen,” Namjoon grumbled as he dropped the plastic bags of groceries to the counter, “No having sex on — or with — an object everyone uses.”

Jimin squawked at that, sitting up to face the older member, “Hyung,” he complained. “We weren’t going to do anything. We were just making out,” he defended.

Yoongi tugged his bottom teeth between his lips knowing full well he would’ve gone further on that couch had their not been such an abrupt interruption.

“You guys are getting reckless,” Namjoon said, a soft warning in the words as he pulled boxes of cereal from the bags and stepped further into the kitchen and out of sight.

Jimin pouted.

Yoongi learned over to tug the younger from the ground, getting him back on the couch. Before Jimin could settle against the cushion, Yoongi was sliding behind him, pulling the younger’s back to his chest and holding him close. Jimin melted into the hold, turning to face Yoongi as the older softly pecked the pout straight from the younger’s face.

Jimin tried not to smile, but it broke through regardless.

“You guys are disgustingly cute,” Hoseok said as he sunk onto the chair opposite them.

“Where are the others?” Yoongi changed the subject as his own flush threatened to expose him.

“They’ll be here soon,” Hoseok sighed.

“Are we being reckless, Hyung?” Jimin asked, looking at Yoongi.

And the answer was: yes, they probably were. There had been significantly more photos and videos circulating from the last month of Jimin and Yoongi being touchy than there had ever been before and speculation was beginning. But, it was still held within their younger fans, it seemed. And the media was reluctant to take it seriously.

But the thing was… Yoongi didn’t care.

He cared for the band. And he cared for what might happen to them. But mostly, he just didn’t care.

Just within the last year, their fame had skyrocketed abroad, reaching a level he’d hardly imagined when they were just starting off. They’d gone on several American talk shows, attended several award shows, and were currently pending for a possible part in the Grammys. And Yoongi had looked it up— seriously looking it up — and a lot of celebrities in America were coming out as gay. Even Ellen, whose show they’d just been on was a gay woman. And Yoongi wasn’t so scared anymore. Wasn’t convinced it would destroy them anymore. So he was beginning not to care about hiding it.

So maybe that had made him just a little reckless. 

“Maybe a little,” he admitted.

Jimin sighed, so Yoongi tightened his grip around him.

“Definitely reckless,” Jungkook sighed as he flopped onto the same couch as Yoongi and Jimin, facing them from the opposite side. “I can’t believe you’re going to tell your parents about each other.”

Jimin’s hold on Yoongi tightened at that and Yoongi felt his own breathing stutter in nervousness.

So maybe he cared about that.

“Only a couple more days till Chuseok,” Hoseok supplied. “Are you guys sure you’re ready for that? It’s a really big deal.”

Yoongi was fairly certain he’d never feel ready to inform his parents that their image of his future with a nice girl and kids carrying on the family name was never going to happen. But he was very certain of Jimin, of Jimin and him, and it was time he let his family in on that.

After Yoongi had expressed his desire to Jimin, Jimin had returned with the proposition to “kill two birds with one stone” as it were. So over the course of one week, they were to go to Daegu for half the time and Busan for the other half, dropping the news like two bombs at the end of each stay before fleeing back to Seoul and hoping for the best that responses could bring.

“At least my parents already like Jimin,” Yoongi teased, trying to lighten the street between him and Jimin as he jostled the younger in his arms. “I don’t think Jimin’s like me very much.”

Jimin turned, protesting Yoongi’s words with a swat. “Of course they do. Why would you say that?”

“Sure, they’re fine with me as your bandmate, but I don’t think they’re going to want me in the family,” he grumbled. Before Jimin could protest that point, Yoongi was continuing, “My mom already said she wished you were her son after your first stay with us in Chuseok.”

That felt like a small eternity ago. Back when he and Jimin were just friends and Yoongi’s feelings were just starting to grow.

“I don’t think she meant it quite like this,” Yoongi mumbled, averting his gaze still from the awkwardness of talking about their families and the stress of acknowledging what they were going to do. “but still, she’ll get her wish.”

Yoongi looked up to find Jungkook and Hoseok staring at him with wide eyes, Namjoon coming to lean out the kitchen into the living space with a raised brow.

“What?” Yoongi said, looking to Jimin to find him also staring at Yoongi, his eyes not as rounded as the others as he seemed more in awe than outwardly shocked.

“What did I say?” Yoongi grumbled, shifting under the stares.

“She’ll get her wish, huh?” Namjoon crossed his arms, raising a brow at Yoongi as he repeated his words.

Yoongi must’ve still been wearing his confusion because the others jumped in.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “It just kinda sounded like a marriage proposal there, Hyung,” Jungkook offered meekly.

“You know,” Hoseok added, shocked expression turning to a teasing one that bordered on outraged excitement. “Saying that Jimin’s going to be part of your family an all.”

“Sounded kinda determined,” Jungkook smiled slyly. “Like you’re already sure.”

Yoongi could feel his face heating up as he hid it against Jimin’s shoulder, flushing violently as Hoseok burst into excited exclamation

“Oh my god, Hyung! You totally meant it, didn’t you?” He accused pointing at Yoongi.

Yoongi squeezed Jimin tighter against him, hiding still even as Jimin tried to turn to face him.

“No,” Yoongi defended weakly.

“Just propose already,” Hoseok continued to tease. “You know you wanna.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Jimin finally twisted out of Yoongi’s grip, holding Yoongi’s chin to raise the older head to face him.

Yoongi pouted.

“I’d say yes,” Jimin said simply.

The room fell dead quiet for a five count before Hoseok was practically screaming, Namjoon’s call of “What?” sounding out in the midst of it. But Yoongi wasn’t looking at any of that, wasn’t listening to it either.

He was only staring at Jimin, even as Jungkook cried out, “Oh my god, I have to tell Jin!”

Yoongi was completely out of words to respond, so he leaned in instead, hand gently cupping Jimin’s face as he kissed him softly. Embarrassed and blushing still, Yoongi ducked his head to Jimin’s shoulder as they separated. On the other end of the couch, Jungkook was already calling Jin.


“So, wait,” Taehyung said as they sat around a large table in a private section of a fancy restaurant, one of their final hurrahs before they all parted ways for the holiday. “Are you guys like engaged now?” He waved his chopsticks between them. 

“No,” Yoongi scowled, stabbing his chopsticks into his bowl of rice.

“I think you are,” Taehyung said with a nod.

Yoongi just really wanted everyone to let it go since the incident had dominated their conversation since the moment they all were in the same room. 

“We’re not,” Jimin said.

“But you already have rings,” Jungkook pointed.

Yoongi consciously put his hand under the table to hide the band in question.

“Yeah,” Jin said around a mouth full of food. “You guys are basically engaged now.”

Yoongi huffed. Beside him, Jimin, flushed from the conversation, reached under the table to intertwine their hands.

“But,” Namjoon said with a voice and tone that Yoongi could immediately tell the conversation was steering from teasing to serious. “Have you guys ever thought about it? Like, honestly, really thought about it? Or even talked about it?”

All five of the others were quiet in anticipation.

Jimin shifted in his seat before answering, “Hyung,” he sighed, “It’s not legal for us to even get married. You know that.”

Yoongi squeezed his hand under the table.

“Just because it’s not legally binding doesn’t mean you guys can’t still do it,” Namjoon shrugged. “There were thousands of years before the government was responsible for marriage. Just because they dictate your taxes and benefits doesn’t mean the principle can’t still remain.”

Yoongi looked to Jimin who looked back at him, an uncertainty exchanged between them.

“Look,” Jin said, mouth no longer full of food as he reached across the table to squeeze Jimin’s arm. “It’s been two years now, right?”

“A year,” Jimin corrected.

“You guys went a whole year desperately in love with each other without being able to touch each other and made it work— it counts,” Jin clarified. “You’ve been together for two years, unconventionally for a year of that,” he clarified. “I never doubted your feelings for each other, but relationships are messy and none of us were really sure if this would work out.”

“A huge reason why we were uncertain of letting you guys be together,” Namjoon jumped in.

“But it’s been a year,” Jin continued. “And I think, well —.”

“We all think,” Hoseok nodded.

“That you guys might just work out,” Jungkook finished for them. 

“Like for good,” Taehyung clarified. “Like long term, end of the road, marriage kind of work out.” He smiled at his best friend.

“You guys have been meeting late at night to talk about us again, haven’t you,” Yoongi narrowed his gaze.

“Maybe once,” Jin said.

“Traitors,” Yoongi scoffed.

“All good things,” Hoseok jumped in. 

Yoongi rolled his eyes, finding his gaze drawn to Jimin before he was sighing. “Guys, we’re just trying to get through the whole telling our parents thing right now, this is a bit…”

“… much,” Jimin finished for him, a hand squeeze accompanying the words.

Namjoon held out his hands. “We’re not telling you guys to get hitched tonight or anything,” he clarified.

“We didn’t think marriage or further commitment was on your radar,” Jin shrugged. 

“Cause it’s not,” Yoongi clarified.

“On your radar or not,” Namjoon said. “We just want you guys to know that if you decide to go further, we support it.”

“And you,” Hoseok beamed.

“We’re all rooting for you guys,” Jungkook confirmed with a nod.

“We have bets going too,” Taehyung wiggling his brow. 

Jungkook kicked him under the table. “You weren’t supposed to tell them that,” he gritted out.

Taehyung just beamed.


“They didn’t freak you out, did they?” Yoongi asked as Jimin curled under the comforter of Yoongi’s bed (the second bed on the other side of the room rarely used in comparison to Yoongi’s which they both slept in ninety percent of the time). Yoongi lowered himself to sit on the edge of his bed. “All that talk about marriage.”

“Not freaked out,” Jimin confirmed with a nod. “Just thinking.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi stood back up, kicking off his pants as he pushed his legs into his pajama bottoms, very aware of Jimin’s gaze following his every movement. 

“Stop staring,” Yoongi cast him a scowl.

Jimin giggled, biting at his bottom lip in the way that drove Yoongi crazy. 

Yoongi slipped under the covers and turned on his side to face Jimin in the still, warm light from the lamp as the shadows from the night drifted over the room. “Thinking about what?” He asked.

“We never really have talked about marriage,” Jimin said.

“We’ve only been dating for a year,” Yoongi said. 

“But we’ve never really talked about a final destination, like the end goal. What is our end goal?” Jimin shifted under the covers, his nerves making him unable to lay still.

Yoongi drifted his arm over Jimin’s waist. “This,” he said. “This is the end goal. Being with you. That’s always been the end goal.”

“Okay,” Jimin said with a soft smile, curling closer into Yoongi’s space as if bidding the conversation over.

“Did you mean it?” Yoongi asked.

Jimin straightened back up to look at him. “Mean what?”

“That you’d say yes?” Yoongi let his hand fall to the bare skin at Jimin’s waist, exposed from where his shirt had ridden up, let it rest there and bask in the younger’s warmth. “If I proposed.”

Jimin scoffed a small laugh, “Of course I’d say yes,” Jimin curled back down into position, head resting up against Yoongi’s chin. “We’re the end goal, remember?”

Yoongi kissed the top of Jimin’s head, separating only to switch off the lamp, plunging them into darkness, before he was returning to position. He carded his hands through Jimin’s hair until the younger fell asleep, Jimin’s soft breathing filling the room.

But Yoongi couldn’t sleep and knew full well it would be pointless to lay around and try. As Jimin’s slumber sounded, Yoongi moved to carefully separate himself from the younger until he could roll from the bed, he threw on the first clothes he could reach in the dark, tucked the covers around Jimin, and headed off into the night.

Until the earliest hours of the morning, Yoongi stayed in his studio and wrote his music.


As the train clacked along to Daegu, Jimin out-cold again Yoongi’s shoulder, the older couldn’t help but let his mind wander. With all the nerves and excitements for all the week could hold, Yoongi still found himself held up on that one stupid notion of what next?

He’d never really gotten that far in consideration, always imaging even this, what he had now, was unattainable. And heading back home for Chuseok with Jimin by his side, well it remained a stark reminder of the last time (and only other time), Jimin had accompanied him back home for Chuseok.

Up until that time, Yoongi had been aware of something changing in the way he regarded Jimin, a definite favoritism and a soft fondness that Jin had teased him about on a multitude of occasions. But never had Yoongi ever really let himself consider the possibility of Jimin being anything more to him than a bandmate and brother. They’d known each other for so long and had been so close and Yoongi hadn’t had feelings then (mostly because Jimin was a tadpole) so he just figured it wasn’t happening. He’d successfully integrated into an all-male group of seven stupidly attractive guys and he hadn’t fallen for any of them. He’d already congratulated himself and considered the whole ordeal complete.

But then Jimin had asked it come to Chuseok with Yoongi, an asking that had followed Yoongi hinting at the fact that he wished someone would come with him because his family was all pissy at his brother for dating this girl they hated. This was when Jimin said that his parents weren’t even going to be there for half the week and mentioned spending that half of the week with Yoongi. And the older, being the kind Hyung he was, agreed.

That half of the week ended up being one of Yoongi’s most favorite memories. It was the first time he and Jimin had ever been truly on their own from the other’s for so long and it was the first time Yoongi realized how much he enjoyed the younger’s company. Yoongi’s mom fell in love with Jimin moments after meeting him and the others weren’t short to follow. Even Yoongi’s brother’s girlfriend (who didn’t last long after that) adored Jimin. To a suspicious degree actually. A degree that made an uncomfortable feeling bloom in Yoongi’s chest as he found himself intentionally sitting between them and breaking up any conversation that may occur if it went on past a couple exchanges.

Yoongi would later associate this feeling with jealousy… because that was what it was. But at the time he simply thought he was protecting Jimin from a bad female.

Other than her, things had been great. Jimin fit easily into their family dynamic, reminding Yoongi of when the young boy had first shown up in BTS, the last addition to their dysfunctionally perfect family. How unsure he’d been, but how easy to was for him to slip into the group, filling a space Yoongi didn’t even know existed.

Identical to how he slipped into Yoongi’s own life, expanding to fill a hole Yoongi hadn’t even been aware of.

It had been a perfect four days. Any awkwardness posed by an outsider being in on their family events was nonexistent.

Yoongi shared his bed with Jimin all four of those nights, but it wasn’t until the last one that he actually began to feel nervous about it. It was stupid, of course. It was Jimin and he and Jimin shared essentially everything just like he did with the other members. 

But something seemed… different that last night and Yoongi wasn’t really sure about it until the end.

After he had spent hours under the simple light from his lamp into the night, talking with Jimin about anything and everything. He went from laughing until his sides hurt to a deep and serious conversation about their goals and dreams and how hard they’d come. And it was strange. It was all so strange. Because Yoongi had had these types of conversations with Namjoon, especially, but also with Hoseok and Jin — but he’d never really spoken this openly with one of the younger members. Not one on one. Maybe as a group though. But not like this.

But here he was, Jimin’s face just inches from his own, and they were just pouring their hearts out into the early morning. And it felt right. Yoongi would remember that feeling over anything that they spoke about. Just how fitting it all felt. 

It was the first time he ever noticed the light in Jimin’s eyes. He’d always known the younger boy to be attractive, like everyone in the group seemed to be (aside from himself, he considered at the time). But lying there, he couldn’t help but feel his throat tighten up a little bit as his gaze traced the shape of Jimin’s lips, noticed how the boy's eyes crinkled when he smiled — considered how perfect it all was. 

Considered how not like a child Jimin had become.

Realized that there was something growing in his chest that he really should squash as soon as possible. 

As the hours continued to roll on, Jimin’s eyes would drift close, his words slurring even as he said them. And he’d try to stay awake to listen to Yoongi, but exhaustion would wear out and he would slip perfectly into unconsciousness, lips just slightly parted as his soft breathing rose and dropped his chest.

And for the first time, as Yoongi watched under the warm light of the lamp in the earliest hours of the morning, Yoongi would wonder what it would be like to kiss Jimin’s perfect lips.

It certainly would not be the last time that thought would cross his mind.

It would be a couple months later, when those thoughts and feeling continued to jump up, especially when Jimin would touch him, sit by him, speak to him — it really wasn’t that hard to get those feelings jolting in his chest like someone was turning up the volume— that Yoongi would realize that ignoring it simply wasn’t enough. That it wasn’t going away. That Yoongi was developing a crush on his bandmate. It would be six months past that point that Yoongi would first venture into the club InvisibleColors. And it would be two years past that when Yoongi would run directly into Jimin at that exact place and not even realize it.


Yoongi snapped out of his thoughts, turning to Jimin. The younger was watching him with a curiosity playing in his eyes. His face mask hiding most of his expression, but Yoongi prided himself on knowing the younger enough to gouge the rest of his expression just from what he could see of his eyes.

“Why are you pouting?” Yoongi pressed his thump to the younger’s forehead, rubbing there until the strain in his features dissipated. 

“What were you thinking about?” Jimin asked. “You seemed serious.”

“Us,” Yoongi answered honestly. “The first time I realized I had feelings for you.”

Jimin’s features immediately bloomed into a shy smile. He’d heard the Chuseok story a couple times (only because he made Yoongi repeat it again after the first time so he could hear it again). “Why’d you look so serious about it?” Jimin’s smile wavered.

“It changed everything,” Yoongi shrugged. 

Jimin’s smile wavered completely.

“I’m glad it did,” Yoongi clarified, leaning closer to the younger. “It’s just weird to think about.”

That seemed to calm Jimin as he turned to look out the window for a moment before facing Yoongi again. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to catch up.”

“I can’t believe you went straight into your adult years without knowing you were… gay,” Yoongi muttered the last word out of caution for the other passengers. “That’s kinda an important thing to realize.”

Jimin jostled Yoongi with a shrug. “I didn’t have time to think about it,” he crossed his arms. “Besides. I didn’t even want to be in a relationship before you, so what did it matter.”

Yoongi liked those words way too much.

Jimin curled up, hunched over his legs as he whined. “I’m so nervous to see your parents again. Everything’s different now. Everything.”

Yoongi rubbed Jimin’s back. “They’ll probably disown me before they disown you they love you so much.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Yeah right.”

“It’ll be fine,” Yoongi said.

Jimin straightened, leaning back against Yoongi. 

“If it goes to hell, we’ll get a hotel.”

“I really want it to go well,” Jimin said and Yoongi could tell he was worrying his lip between his teeth. Could tell enough that he reached to tug it out of the younger’s mouth from over the face mask’s fabric.

“Me too,” Yoongi kissed Jimin on the top of the head — the highest level of intimacy he could chance in public.

“Even is it goes to shit — all of it —” Jimin said and Yoongi scoffed at the curse word (the younger had been using a lot more of them since they’d gotten together). “Both our parents hate the idea of it and disown us both and everything sucks.” There was so much stress in his words, Yoongi squeezed his arm. “I’ll still have you right?” Jimin looked up at him, a desperation in his eyes. 

Yoongi nodded, feeling his own anxiety pulsing under his veins at Jimin’s words. “Of course, Chim-ah. They’d have to hold me at gunpoint like in a mafia movie to get me to leave you.”

Jimin scoffed in offense. “If I was held at gunpoint like in a mafia movie I wouldn’t leave you, you asshole.”

Yoongi tightened his hold to grapple Jimin into a teasing chokehold as Jimin elbowed him to free himself. “When did you start cursing so much?” Yoongi teased.

“Since you obviously,” Jimin scoffed.

“I remember you cursing a lot back in the club,” Yoongi pointed out. “It’s probably why it took me so long to figure it out.”

“It was my persona,” Jimin excused, crossing his arms.

Yoongi guffawed out loud, “Your what now?

“I was more confident with a mask,” Jimin shrugged. “And you’re one to talk. Oh my gosh, you were so— so,” he struggled for a word.

“I was so what?” Yoongi narrowed his gaze. 

“Extra,” Jimin finally said. “Like wholly hell.”

“Was I now?” Yoongi tilted his head at the younger. “Do explain how.”

First time here?” Jimin mocked, deepening his voice and waving his body as he spoke. “Wanna get a room? You have a nice ass. I just met you but you look like my bandmate so let’s bone.”

Yoongi gripped Jimin’s side to tickle him, the hunger squealing against it as he thrashed to escape the feeling.

An older couple a few seats up gave them a pointed look.

Jimin sunk down against his seat, staring up at Yoongi in exaggerated offense. “First of all, how dare you.”

Yoongi laughed out loud again, leaning down close to Jimin until their faces were almost brushing. Jimin’s large eyes darted around Yoongi’s face.

“I really want to kiss you,” Yoongi said.

Jimin smiled. “After we get to your parent's house.”

“I can’t promise I’ll wait even a moment after.”


Yoongi’s mom was just as friendly as he remembered her being. Always a little critical of Yoongi in that endearing way that reflected so flawlessly in Theo older member himself as she greeted him with a hug and a, “Have you gotten shorter?”

Yoongi huffed with a pout. “Geez, ma,” he shook his head, but hugged her still before turning to hug his dad.

Yoongi mom greeted Jimin warmly and there was something about seeing her smile that made the fear in Jimin’s chest dissipate if only just a little. “Jimin, it’s so good to see you,” and she greeted Jimin with a hug, complaining for the next fifteen minutes as the trudged their belongings up to Yoongi’s old room about how Yoongi never brought Jimin around anymore and how awful that experience had been.

“If this trip goes well, he’ll be coming over a lot more often,” Yoongi said with a grunt as he tugged his suitcase onto the bed.

“Is that so?” She crossed her arms.

And Jimin was still shocked by Yoongi’s simple words.

“Yep,” Yoongi said like he wasn’t hinting at the reason they were here and the reason they were terrified. But Yoongi didn’t elaborate, so his mom seemed to drop it.

When she left them to settle it took Yoongi five seconds before he was tugging Jimin into his arms and kissing him like it had been an eternity since their last one (not a simple train ride).

The kiss left Jimin breathless. He fell back against Yoongi as they separated. “That was bold.”

“You make me bold,” Yoongi tucked Jimin’s hair aside. 

Jimin fell against him in an embrace, holding him close and breathing him in to try and calm his nerves. There were so many of them still. “She’s right though.”

“Hm?” Yoongi pulled back.

“You have gotten shorter.”

Yoongi jostled him lightly, rolling his eyes as he stepped towards his suitcase. “Let’s prepare for these next couple days, shall we?”


Yoongi’s brother joined them on their second day there, the days simple and full of big meals that Jimin did his best to help with. 

(“You’re trying too hard,” Yoongi teased. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jimin said as he scrubbed a dish clean.

Yoongi wrapped his arms around Jimin’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. “They already love you. You don’t have to win them over.” 

Jimin dropped the plate into the water, resting his palms to the sink as he took a deep breath. “I don’t want to hurt them.”

“Baby,” Yoongi said softly. “Whether this hurts them or not is not your fault and it’s nothing you can control.”

Jimin nodded, but still felt the weight of it in his bones.

Yoongi rubbed over his stomach, removing himself from his back to stand beside him. “I’ll dry, okay?”

Jimin nodded, handing him the next dish. They worked side by side until the work was done. And they both missed his moms knowing smile that followed them as they joined them after in the living room after.)

Their days were filled with the daily ins and outs of restful life and their nights were spent together, curled up against each other in the night as Yoongi muttered encouragements — those he knew Jimin needed— and Jimin kissed him into the night — the comfort he knew Yoongi needed. And their last meal together came far too soon.

As Jimin helped dish out the food around the table, Yoongi dad complained about Jimin’s absence again. “I just don’t see why you guys have to leave so soon.”

“I already told you,” Yoongi explained. “We’re going to go see Jimin’s family next.”

“Why?” Yoongi’s brother tilted his head at Yoongi a suspicious gleam in his eyes.

Yoongi looked at Jimin who returned his gaze before lowering himself back to the seat. Yeah, Yoongi supposed. It was time.

“Hey,” he started weakly, looking anywhere but at his parents as he went on. “Mom, Dad, there’s uh— actually there’s something I need to tell you.”

Yoongi’s mom gave them her full attention while his dad nodded, continuing to eat until Yoongi’s mom swatted his arm, getting the man to realize the severity of the situation and straighten up to face his son. “What is it?” 

Yoongi’s breathing started to come out short, the panic rising. He remembered a time when his parents had been terrified for him, terrified for his career choice, for the road he was walking. A time where concern turned to criticism and — god, Yoongi didn’t know if he could go through that again.

Jimin’s hand slipped carefully into his own, fingers intertwining and Yoongi closed his eyes to recollect himself for a moment.

The table was silent, waiting for Yoongi’s words. Yoongi’s older brother reached over to grip him on the shoulder, a comforting squeeze in the tense quiet.

Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to say it and look at them, so he kept his eyes closed. “Please don’t be mad,” he started. “I- I never wanted this and I never was going to do anything about it. But, um, things kinda changed and I — I just want you to know that I - that this doesn’t change anything.”

“Spit it out, Yoongi,” the worry was evident in his father’s tone.

“I think I’m gay,” Yoongi opened his eyes but kept his head turned down. “No, that’s not right. I  know I’m gay.”

Jimin’s hand in his was impossibly tight, mostly from Yoongi’s own iron grip back.

Yoongi finally chanced his glance up, watching his mom crane her neck forward as his dad looked frantically between him and his mom. 

“Okay,” she said at last, returning to her meal.

Yoongi let out the breath he had been holding, sagging forward. “Okay?” He repeated. “Is that all?”

“You never had a girlfriend,” his mom shrugged. “I was beginning to wonder.”

His dad sputtered. “You never told me of this wondering. What do you mean you’re gay?” He turned to his son.

Yoongi’s grip trembled in Jimin’s hand.

“I think it means I like guys, dad.”

“Don’t be smart with me,” he said seriously. He looked from his wife back to his son. “This is serious,” he added at her accusing stare. He looked back to Yoongi. “You’re sure?”

Yoongi nodded. “Completely.”

“And— and your job?” His father asked.

“I’m keeping it a secret,” Yoongi said. “The other members know. All of them. We’ve talked about what would happen if it came out.”

His father shifted in his seat. “This is a shock, Yoongi.”

“I know,” Yoongi said, resisted the urge to apologize. Because he and Jimin had talked about it. And they shouldn’t have to apologize for this.

His father seemed to struggle internally for a while. “Why are you telling us this now?”

“Because it’s important now,” Yoongi said.


“You better say you’re dating Jimin,” his mom said with a raise of her brow.

Jimin choked over air and Yoongi jerked his gaze to her.

She smiled slyly, gesturing at him. “If you’re going to insist on bringing another man into this family when god knows we have enough I want Jimin.” She smiled encouragingly then.

“That’s not really up to you, mom,” Yoongi retorted.

“Oh please,” she scoffed. “I saw you two in the kitchen earlier.” She said it like an afterthought, looking away as she took a sip of her cup. “Not subtle, Yoongi.”

“Wait,” his father was struggling to catch up. “Jimin and you…?” He gestured between them.

“They’re together, dad,” Yoongi’s older brother said, jostling Yoongi. “Is it not obvious?”

Yoongi’s dad looked between them.

“How long?” Yoongi’s mom asked.

“A year,” Jimin responded at the same time that Yoongi said:

“Two years.”

She raised a brow at them.

“Officially for a year,” Yoongi clarified. “Kinda for two.”

“I want to hear that story,” his brother joked. “God knows Yoongi’s been crushing on you, Jimin, for long enough.”

“Is that true?” Yoongi mom fixed him with a look.

“Yeah,” Yoongi admitted, shifting in his embarrassment. 

“Well, tell the story then,” his mother waved her hand.

“It’s a bit…” Jimin started.

“That’s probably not a great idea?” Yoongi tried.

Yoongi’s entire family stared at them expectantly.

“You better tell us,” Yoongi mother said.

“Fine,” Yoongi sighed as Jimin squawked in offense, jerking to him, his eyes clearly reading We are not telling your family about how we accidentally had sex for months. “But we’re going to need to break out the soju for that.”

Yoongi kept it PG… for the most part. And he did his best to glass over the awkward bits, forgoing the mention that the whole ordeal went on for several months to instead make it sound like one gloriously drunk night in a bar ended not too well and then everything was a mess between them for a while until they fixed it, but didn’t date for the sake of their careers and friends until a year ago when they’d been given the all-clear.

After the story, Yoongi’s mom reached across the table to swat him upside the head. “You really had to go and do that the most complicated way imaginable, didn’t you?”

“Yep,” Yoongi said.

Jimin was flushing violently beside him and it was not because of the alcohol.

“But you guys are sure now?” His dad asked.

“Definitely,” Jimin answered.

“Yeah, dad,” Yoongi nodded. “Very sure.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been in a serious relationship for a year and you didn’t tell your family,” his mom was shaking his head.

Yoongi wrapped his arm around Jimin and pulled him in close. “Definitely won’t happen again,” Yoongi assured.


“Do you think it will go that well with my family?” Jimin asked sitting on Yoongi’s bed uncertainly.

Yoongi pulled Jimin down into the mattress, throwing his leg over the younger until he could straddle him on the mattress. “I think it will go fine, Jimin. Your family loves you.”

“Your mom saw,” Jimin said with a tilt of his head. “She saw and she didn’t even care.”

“My dad cared,” Yoongi pointed out.

“I don’t want my parents to care,” Jimin said. “I want them to just say ‘okay’ too.”

“Tell me you’re dating me,” Yoongi said, holding Jimin's arms up above his head and leaning over him.

“What?” Jimin stared at him perplexed.

“Just say it.”

“I’m dating you,” Jimin shook his head at his antics.

Yoongi shrugged, nonchalant. “Okay.”

Jimin freed his wrists and knocked Yoongi in the stomach, getting his to double over. “Not like that.”

Yoongi bit his lips as he looked down at Jimin.

Jimin looked to the closed door across from them. “Hey, Hyung.”


“You wanna break in your bed?” Jimin wiggled under his Yoongi’s weight.

Yoongi looked to the door, then back to Jimin. “Yes,” he said, sitting up straighter. “But we have to be really freaking quiet.”

“Okay,” Jimin smiled brightly and Yoongi leaned down to meet his lips in his childhood room and there was no one he’d rather have there.


“Yoongi!” Jimin’s mom brightened her smile as he stepped through the threshold, hands held in front of her — restrained, Jimin thought. “It’s so good to see you,” she beamed.

Yoongi bowed low, trudging with his suitcase in hand. “You too, ma’am.”

“Hi, mom,” Jimin beamed, stepping over the threshold after towing off his shoes to hug his mom. 

When his father peered around the corner, Jimin moved to give him a hug as well.

“It’s about time you came home to visit us,” his father rested lightly. “Yoongi,” he said as Jimin moved aside, giving a slight bow as Yoongi bowed in turn. 

“Sir,” Yoongi greeted.

Yoongi was nervous. Jimin could tell. Maybe even more so than Jimin, so the younger slid back over to the older, hugging his arm as he tugged him further into their house.

“It’s great to see you again. It’s been so long,” Jimin’s mom greeted warmly. “Come on and I’ll show you where you’re staying.” Even as she turned to show the way, she continued. “Yoongi, dear, you can stay in Jimin’s room and Jimin will just have to sleep on the couch.” She waved her hand.

“Actually, mom,” Jimin skipped a step to catch up to her. “Yoongi and I are okay with sharing a bed. We have to do it all the time with tours and stuff. It’s really not a big deal.”

His mom agreed with a shrug.


That night Yoongi held Jimin tight as the wheels spun rapidly behind his eyes, the overthinking causing him to worry his lips no matter how many times Yoongi would reach to carefully pull it free again. 

“I love you,” Yoongi said when all his other words seemed to have run out.

Jimin curled up against him at those words and held him tight. Jimin started to shake his head. “I can’t wait until this trip is over. I can’t do it. This is too stressful. How did you do it?” He peered up at Yoongi then.

“I had you,” Yoongi said honestly.

Jimin closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the older’s. “Can we tell them tomorrow?:

“Of course, Jimin.”

“And if it doesn’t go well…” his eyes opened and they were teary. 

Yoongi kissed him with all the love he could manage, muttering in between their lips. “It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.” And when Jimin started to cry, Yoongi kissed the tears away too.

In the morning, it didn’t take his mom long to pick up on her son’s distress. “Jimin,” she said as they sat around the table for breakfast. “What’s wrong with you?”

Jimin’s eyes rounded in panic and he immediately broke down into tears.

Jimin’s parents stared, startled.

Yoongi put his utensils down and turned his body to the younger, opening his arms as Jimin fell in against them. Yoongi own alarm was clouded by his knowing — by his concern. 

“Jimin, honey,” his mom was straightening in concern. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Yoongi held the younger’s face to wipe at his tears as Jimin tried to gain control of his sobs, the grief shaking his body and stalling his breathing.

Yoongi stood up, taking Jimin carefully by the arms to pull him up. “We’ll be right back,” Yoongi nodded. “Just give us a moment.”

He led Jimin out onto their back porch where he sealed the door and turned to the younger, cupping his face and wiping more tears away. “Hey, baby,” he muttered. “Hey, Jimin. Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Jimin started shaking his head. “It’s too hard. It’s too hard. I can’t tell them. They won’t let me come back.”

“Jimin, you know that’s not true.”

“It could be,” he said in-between sobs. “I can’t lose them. They’re my family. And I — I.”

“Shhh,” Yoongi tried to calm him, holding him close. “You won’t lose them. Not over this.”

“It’ll change everything,” Jimin started shaking his head, pulling back. “I don’t want things to change.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi tried.

“I can’t do it,” Jimin shook his head. “I can’t tell them I’m gay.”

The thunk behind them made both boys whip around. Jimin crying came to an abrupt stop as he looked at his shocked father who, but the looks of it had come to make sure Jimin was okay the thump him falling against the door in his shock.

“Dad,” Jimin tried, voice thick with tears.

His dad shook his head, closing the door as he turned around and walked inside.

Jimin fell against Yoongi, breaking down into tears as Yoongi held him close. 

It took forever to console the younger enough to get the crying down. From where he held him on the porch, Yoongi could see Jimin’s parents yelling at each other from the other side of the door, across the house to the kitchen. Jimin’s dad’s hands waving out in gesture at their son.

When Jimin did stop crying, he was left limp and sad, sniffling with the echoes of his sobs, eyes rimmed red.

“Let’s get out of here,” Yoongi said. “Not for good,” he clarified as Jimin looked up at him. “Just for a couple hours. Give them some time to think, okay?”

Jimin nodded, holding Yoongi’s arm as they braved their way back into the house. Jimin kept his head down, not looking at his parents as he removed himself from Yoongi’s side to hurry up to his room, to grab his wallet and coat.

Yoongi faced Jimin’s parents with a sigh.

His mom looked distraught as she stared after her son. Looking from where he disappeared to where Yoongi stood she asked, “You knew?”

Yoongi nodded.

“The others? The other members. Do they know?”

Yoongi nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Who else?” Jimin’s dad asked, crossing his arms impatiently.

“Our manager,” Yoongi nodded. “No one else.”

“And what do you think about it?” Jimin’s mom posed. “If this gets out it could ruin your band.”

“We know,” Yoongi said. “It’s why Jimin was so quiet about it for so long. But eventually,” he tried to keep his tone level, keep it respectful, “these things come out. They can’t be hidden away forever.”

“How does he know?” Jimin’s dad gestured up towards the stairs. “How does he know that this is how he feels? Maybe it’s just the lifestyle or-or the pressures or —.”

“Your son’s sure, Mr. Park,” Yoongi said. 

“He’s not seeing someone, is he?” Mrs. Park asked the hand coming over her mouth a moment later as if the thought was too much to hold onto.

Yoongi closed his eyes. “He is, actually.”

She cried.

Yoongi turned away.

“You need to talk some sense into him,” Mr. Park seemed to plead. “Tell him to reconsider. He’ll listen to you. He respects you.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Yoongi said, tasing his chin as he spoke. “But I won’t tell him that.”

“Why not?” The man asked, pleaded. This was so much harder than Yoongi thought it would be.

Yoongi contemplated a moment, looking up to see Jimin on the staircase, staring down at the scene. Yoongi held out his hand to beckon the younger down, taking the boy’s hand in his grasp the moment it was available to bring him carefully to his side. He intertwined their fingers between them and bowed his head to Jimin’s parents. “Because it would be me I’d be telling him to reconsider. And I can’t do that.”

The shock on Jimin’s parent’s faces would’ve been amusing in another situation. Yoongi gave another bow of his head before he was leading Jimin from his own house.

They walked aimlessly for a while, walking the paths around Busan that Jimin had shown him once before when Yoongi had visited. Jimin was quiet during this time.

It wasn’t until they were seated at a small cafe that Jimin spoke again, but it was only to say. “Can I call Taehyung?”

Yoongi nodded, taking Jimin’s hand in his as the younger called his best friend to cry over the phone to explain what happened. Yoongi switched seats to sit directly beside the younger, patiently waiting as Jimin recalled the story in perfect painful detail to Taehyung.

They wandered Busan until the sun was setting, Yoongi a careful presence beside Jimin’s quietness. And as the light started to dampen from the sky, Jimin finally agreed to go back home.

“What if they’ve packed up all our stuff?” Jimin asked, tears returning to his eyes. “And it’s just sitting on their front porch and they don’t want us to come back. What if they don’t want me back.”

“Then they’re wrong,” Yoongi said, holding Jimin so that the younger had to face him. “Then they’re idiots,” Yoongi added on for good measure. “You’re perfect, Jimin. You’re perfect and nothing about who you like changes that. And I’m so sorry, Jimin. I’m sorry that you have to feel this way.”

“I love you,” Jimin said looking into Yoongi’s eyes. 

“You know I love you too,” Yoongi said.

Their bags were not on the front porch, nor were they packed up. But as Yoongi and Jimin stepped into Jimin’s childhood home, the two adults of the household were waiting. A gentle, “Can we talk?” Ringing from Jimin’s mother.

Yoongi didn’t remove his hold on Jimin’s hand, not even when Mr. Park eyed it warily as they took their seats.

“When did you realize?” Mr. Park asked, swallowing heavily as he rested his intertwined hands against his knee.

“Two years ago,” Jimin admitted. “I mean,” Jimin looked at the ground as he continued. “I always kinda knew. But I…” he took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to believe it. So I just,” he shrugged, “ignored it. I ignored it until I just couldn’t anymore.”

“When did you guys start…?” Mrs. Park’s question trailed off, but the ending was clear.

“A year ago,” Yoongi answered. 

“So you’re…?” Mr. Park posed.

“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded.

Mr. Park sighed. “I don’t understand,” he said as if in pain. “Was it something we did? Was it — was it…?”

Jimin was shaking his head. “No. It’s not your fault.”

“I just don’t understand,” his dad repeated. “Are you sure?”

Jimin nodded.

“Have you even tried being with a woman?” His dad pressed. “Maybe if you —.”

“Dad,” Jimin cut him off. “I’ve tried. It doesn’t work,” the tears were coming back. “I tried,” he repeated, the words shaking. He paused to even his breathing. “I tried so hard it was suffocating me. It’s not going to happen,” he finished with a defeated shrug.

“Ever?” His dad clarified.

Jimin closed his eyes and a tear rolled down. He sniffled as he wiped it away.

Mrs. Park put a hand on her husband's knee as if telling him to stand down. “How did you guys become a couple?”

Jimin actually managed a laugh through his tears, but it was hollow and sad.

“On accident, actually,” Yoongi said for him. “I’ve,” Yoongi shifted his position, “been a little in love with your son for a very long time, but I never thought it would happen because, well, I didn’t know that he liked guys. No one knew.” Yoongi looked at Jimin for the okay to continue. 

Jimin gave it in a nod.

“We made some stupid mistakes and almost messed everything up when we realized, but your son is very important to me. He’s one of my closest friends and basically a part of my family, so I wasn’t going to give up. We tried to make just being friends work, but it didn’t anymore. So we asked our band if we could try for more. It took them a while to agree because of the risk, but they came around a year ago. We’ve been together ever since.”

“In love,” Mrs. Park repeated as if still hung up on that phrase. “A little in love.”

Yoongi squeezed Jimin’s hand. “I am very in love with your son now. I’ve been so for a while.”

Mr. Park adverted his gaze. “This is,” he shook his head. “This is — this is ridiculous.”

“I also am in love with him,” Jimin provided.

His dad squeezed his eyes closed.

“And that’s not going to change,” Jimin added. “Ever.”

“I need… time,” his dad finished, “to process this. Maybe you should go to bed.” He wouldn’t look at Jimin. He looked to Yoongi. “Maybe you should stay on the couch tonight, don’t you think?”

“No,” Jimin said simply, looking at his dad. “He’s fine in my room.”

“Jimin,” his dad’s tone warned. “We’re not having this fight.”

“It was fine before,” Jimin argued.

“It’s different now,” his dad said.

“No, it’s not,” Jimin tried. “We won’t do anything. We’ll even keep the door open if you want,” Jimin scoffed. “But he’s staying in my room with me.”

“I’m not comfortable with that,” Mr. Park said.

“Fine,” Jimin wiped at his eyes. “Then we’ll just go home where we’ve been sharing a room for the last year,” Jimin called out.

Mr. Park closed his eyes as if fighting off the acceptance of that statement. 

“Do we need to leave?” Jimin asked next.

“What?” Mrs. Park posed.

“Should we leave?” Jimin asked. “If you don’t want me here, I can leave.”

No answer met his words.

“Then it’s settled,” Jimin stood up, dragging Yoongi with him. “We’ll go pack.”


Jimin shoved his belongings into his bag, an anger in his actions that made the sadness in his expression just a little harder to decipher as Yoongi calmly put his stuff away beside the younger, worriedly watching over Jimin’s frantic movements.

Jimin sniffled wiping at his face as he zipped up his suitcase, turning around. And Yoongi was right there, blocking the younger’s movements.

“Chim-ah,” Yoongi lifted the younger’s chin to face him, trying to get his to stop, to calm. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Jimin said each word with a gasp for air. “None of this is okay.” The grief was bellying into anger and all Yoongi wanted to do was make it all stop.

Yoongi kissed Jimin’s forehead, hands holding the younger’s shoulders to hold him close, keep him near. “We’ll check out a hotel for the night,” Yoongi began to plan. “We can head back in the morning. We’ll be home and the others will be there shortly.”

Jimin nodded, letting out a deep breath.

“Your parents will come around,” Yoongi assured. “They love you, Jimin. Really, really love you. It’ll work out.”

Jimin nodded again, opening his eyes to meet Yoongi’s before he was leaning in to steal a soft kiss.

“I love you,” Jimin said against Yoongi’s lips. “I love you so much. Thank you for being here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Yoongi assured, pressing a kiss to Jimin’s cheek. “Come on, grab your suitcase.”

Jimin nodded, stepping away from Yoongi only to come to a stop, looking in the doorway.

Yoongi turned to face Jimin’s mom, standing in the hallway, door wide open. She pursed her lips as she looked over them. “Can I talk to my son, alone?” She asked.

Yoongi swallowed thickly, looking to Jimin, who nodded.

 Yoongi bowed his head as he stole himself from the room.


“Please don’t leave,” Jimin’s mom would say the moment the door closed. “Please, Jimin. Don’t leave. Not like this. Your father just needs time and —.”

“Do you?” Jimin crossed his arms, sinking to his bed. “Do you need time?”

She took a deep breath, looking around her son’s room. “I’ve wondered,” she said. “Briefly. You’ve always been a little… different is all,” he said. “But you dated girls in high school, you know.”

“I hated it,” Jimin confessed.

She sunk down on the bed beside him, “I suppose they never did last long.”

Jimin knew him and Yoongi had agreed not to apologize, but he couldn’t help himself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really tried not to be, you know. Really tried. And I would’ve never told you because I would’ve never had to tell you if it wasn’t for Yoongi.”

His mom stared at him, a furrow in her brow. “What do you mean?”

“If I didn’t act on it you know if I didn’t date anyone, then I wouldn’t have to tell you or anyone else. But I really love Yoongi. I really love him, mom. And I’m going to be with him for a long, long time and one day it’s going to come out and I didn’t want you guys to find out about it from a tabloid.” 

“You would’ve gone your whole life without telling us,” She repeated, critical in her tone.

Yes,” Jimin said, falling forward as the word fell out. “I would’ve rather never had to go through this. Do you think I enjoy this? I hate this so much.” He could feel the tears coming back, and, honestly, he was surprised there were any left.

“You’ve held onto this for years without telling us,” she said with a sigh, her own sadness seeming to pull tears to her eyes and wrap tightly around her throat. She sniffled, blinking up at the ceiling to hold back tears. “Don’t leave,” she said with a nod. “Not yet. Just give us some time. Let me talk to him.”

Jimin nodded. “Okay.”


Their door remained ajar as the rest of the house fell into sleep. But as Yoongi cradled Jimin’s head to his stomach, holding him as his hands carded through the younger’s hair, his other hand held Jimin’s latest book open as Yoongi read the words from where the boy had left off, trying to seduce him into slumber despite the strain and pain on his heart. 

The deep timbre of Yoongi’s voice seemed to keep the room awake as beyond the open door everything else was still and dark. It would end up taking several chapters to lure the younger’s eyes closed, and just two more after that to confirm he was asleep with the soft sounds of his breathing taking the place of where Yoongi’s voice fell off.

With the dim glow of lamplight drawing shadows against Jimin’s face, Yoongi watched him, carefully tracing over Jimin’s features. Yoongi’s chest felt heavy from having to watch Jimin experience all of this, a desperation lodging its way into his heart to take it away somehow even though Yoongi knew he couldn’t.

It was that desperate worry that would keep Yoongi awake late into the night, that desperate worry that would eventually cause Yoongi to give up on the possibility of sleep as he lifted Jimin’s head to sneak out from under it. He would tuck the younger carefully under the covers before switching off the light and leaving the room.

After letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he would maneuver his way down the stairs and to the kitchen in search of a glass of water.

“Yoongi,” a deep voice rang from the small kitchen table, setting Yoongi’s nerves on fire for the split second it took him to realize that voice belonged to Jimin’s father and not a robber/serial killer.

“Mr. Park,” Yoongi bowed his head in the darkened kitchen, illuminated only by the light from the moon hanging above outside.

“What are you doing awake?” The man asked from where he sat.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Yoongi said honestly.

“And Jimin?”

“He’s asleep,” Yoongi assured. 

“I heard you reading to him,” the man said simply.

“Oh,” Yoongi wasn’t sure where to go with that.

Mr. Park stood from his seat. “When he was little, that was the only way to get him down. His mother would sit with him and read for hours.” He sighed with a shake of his head. “Is he still as restless at night as he was then?”

Yoongi couldn’t help the smile on his face as he nodded. “Yeah. He’s usually the last to bed. He’ll stay up way too late even on the days we have off to read.”

Mr. Park nodded his head. “Yoongi,” he said. “Drink with me,” and he moved past Yoongi in the kitchen to grab a bottle of soju from the fridge, the light within blinding Yoongi for a moment before the door fell closed and Mr. Park was grabbing two glasses.

On the patio out back they sat at the metal framed table under the moonlight. Yoongi poured both their glasses and together they drank down the first one.

It was better than water, that was for sure. And Yoongi was content in knowing that a couple more and he’d be able to fall asleep with no problem.

“Do your parents know? About you?” Mr. Park asked as he set his glass back down against the table.

Yoongi refilled it. “Just told them actually,” he nodded. “Right before we came here.”

“And how did they take it?”

Yoongi took a deep breath. “Not perfectly. But pretty good,” he nodded. “They like Jimin a lot, always have. I think that lessened the blow of what I was confirming for them. I think they’re more okay with it because I have him.”

“Why didn’t you tell your parents before?” The man drank.

“I didn’t want to,” Yoongi said honestly. “It’s hard. And I didn’t want them to treat me differently. I didn’t think it was important either. I didn’t think I’d ever find anybody that would make it important.”

Mr. Park nodded in some form of understanding. “Do you get along?”

“Me and my parents?” Yoongi asked.

“No,” the man gave a shake of his head. “You and my son. Do you get along?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded. “We get along.”

“Do you ever fight?” The man turned his head.

“Well,” Yoongi shifted in defense. “I mean, yeah, we’ve fought before. But it’s —.”

“That’s good,” Mr. Park said, a heavy sigh following. “If you don’t fight it’s not real.”

Yoongi relaxed under that statement.

“But it’s not good if you fight all the time,” the man clarified.

“We don’t,” Yoongi assured. “I think we’ve lived together for so long now that we’ve already worked out most of those kinks people fight over.”

“Well, what do you fight about?”

Yoongi contemplated for a moment. “Usually if we get really stressed we’ll get grumpy with each other.”


Yoongi nodded. “Our first fight — after we were together together, you know — it was probably the worst.”

Mr. Park waved his hand, beckoning Yoongi to continue.

“We were preparing for our new album, and it wasn’t going as well as we’d hoped and everyone was super stressed an on edge. And when Jimin gets stressed he kinda shuts down, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” the man assured.

“He was constantly at practice. And I wasn’t much better, I was locking myself away in the studio. And we both got so accustomed to the other being there and being like our comfort, you know, that when we both just stopped it just kinda made everything that had been building up come crashing down.”

Yoongi sipped his soju as the man nodded along across from him. “Jimin made some snippy remark about how I didn’t care about him or something like that. You know, something like, ‘like you would care.’ And I snapped at him.” Yoongi shook his head. “I don’t even remember what I said, but I snapped at him and…”

“Let me guess, it didn’t go well,” Jimin’s father was almost laughing from behind his cup.

“I’d never snapped at him before,” Yoongi leaned forward, eyes widening at his own story. “In all the years we’d lived together, I’d never snapped at him. Like I’d tell him to knock it off or calm down, but I’d never snapped and oh boy.” Yoongi leaned back.

“Jimin doesn’t like being snapped at.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Yoongi said.

Jimin’s dad laughed out loud.

“He started yelling about all kinds of stuff, about how I drove him crazy for closing off and ignoring him when he spoke and we argued for like an hour about it in our room, both of us were yelling and he threw a book at me,” Yoongi exclaimed, able to smile and laugh about it now. Now that it was behind them.

“Jimin,” Mr. Park started, “was always the sweetest kid. So helpful and kind and good. But if he got pissed off it was like a tornado, like unlocking a beast. It didn’t happen often, but when it did…”

“Yeah, it’s a nightmare,” Yoongi said, but he was endeared, of course. Always, totally endeared with Jimin. “I called him out for it during our fight.”

“Oooh,” Mr. Park shook his head. “Bad call.”

“Yeah, it was. It made everything worse.” Yoongi shook his head at it all. “Within the band, we have a system for resolving conflict, right. Like everyone comes together and mediates and no-one can pick sides and its super structured. But no one knew what to do, because this was different. This was a couple fight. Like a relationship fight. So they all just kinda backed off and kept quiet. But Jimin and I weren’t talking after that fight, not for like a whole day, and it just made everyone stressed.”

Yoongi shook his head at the memory. “It was exactly what they’d been scared of when they told us not to date before,” he nodded and sighed. “It was Jungkook that actually said something. We were getting fitted for our outfits for the newest music video and after we were left alone, Jungkook just asked us, ‘are you guys breaking up?’ and…”

“Let me guess,” the man said. “Jimin cried.”

Yoongi bobbed his head to nod. “Immediately and so hard too.”

“When he was little there was one time when he flew off in one of his rages and it was bad,” Mr. Park nodded. “He hit his brother square across the face and immediately started crying like he’d been the one who was hit.” He shook his head at the thought.

“Jimin’s a little ball of fluff, but he is terrifying when he’s angry.”


And they drank to that.

“So how’d you make up?” Mr. Park asked.

“The others left us alone after Jimin started crying like that. We talked. Jimin said he didn’t want to break up and I said it wasn’t even a thought in my mind. We figured if we weren’t breaking up we had to work it out, so we talked. We’ve fought since, but not like that.”

Yoongi left out had they had amazing makeup sex that night. Definitely wasn’t going to include that in the story.

“You’re serious about this.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, sir,” Yoongi confirmed.

“But it's not… It’s not sustainable,” the man said.

Yoongi’s grip tightened on his cup and he kept silent.

“This kind of relationship. It can’t last,” he said.

“Why not?” Yoongi asked simply.

“Because it can’t,” the man said, which, notably wasn’t a great argument. “You need a certain structure for a stable family.”

“I consider BTS my family and we’re seven boys,” Yoongi said. “That definitely against the typical structure.”

“It’s different like this,” Mr. Park said. There was no anger in his words, no accusation. And maybe that made it easier fro Yoongi to keep calm as well.

“I’m very serious about your son, Mr. Park,” Yoongi said.

“But until when?” He said. “These relationships don’t last.”

“Ours will,” Yoongi assured.

“You don’t know that,” Mr. Park sighed, taking another shot.

“I want to marry him,” Yoongi said.

Mr. Park choked on the alcohol, Yoongi jolting to assist before getting waved back onto his sat as Mr. Park cleared his throat, letting out a raspy, “You want to what?”

“Marry your son,” Yoongi said with a nod. At the man’s shock, he continued. “I love Jimin more than I ever imagined I could love another person. He’s already a part of my family. And I want him in my life for the rest of it. It’s not legal here, and I know that” he sighed, “But I could still make that commitment to him. I can still make it and mean it and I want to. I really want to.”

Mr. Park swallowed, staring down at the table.

“I won’t yet,” Yoongi said. “I’m not trying to threaten you or make you worried, I’m just —  I just want you to know that you may think it's not sustainable, that it can’t last, but I think it will. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make that so.”

“What about your career? What about his?”

“We’ve always been more famous abroad,” Yoongi shrugged. “And abroad it’s more accepted. I think we’ll be fine.”

The man stared into his empty cup.

“You were always so supportive of Jimin’s dreams,” Yoongi said, placing his cup down. “I remember wishing my parents were more like you those first couple years. I know its different, but you supported him in his dancing despite all the unknowns. Why not now in this?”

The man took a deep breath and didn’t respond.

Yoongi bowed his head as he stood. “Thank you for the drink and company,” Yoongi excused himself. “I’ve enjoyed both,” and he wasn’t lying. “But I think I better get back in with Jimin.”

Mr. Park nodded. “Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“Goodnight, sir.”


Jimin was roused in the night to soft prodding on his features, Yoongi facing him in the night.

“What is it?” Jimin managed out past his exhaustion.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Jimin,” Yoongi whispered to him. “I talked to your dad, and I think everything’s going to be okay.” He kissed his forehead. “So don’t be worried anymore as you sleep.”

Jimin was too tired to truly decipher what he said or associate it with the events of the past day. He nodded in agreement, nuzzling closer to Yoongi and drifting off shortly afterward. If he had any dreams, he didn’t remember them.


The days that followed were fine. Not perfect, but fine. While talk and conversation evaded talks of relationships, sexuality, and Jimin and Yoongi being together, there was no outright opposition against it either. They were allowed to sleep in the same bed (door open) and weren’t ostracized for being touchy or even glared at when they would share a small kiss.

But the issue was being ignored. Jimin supposed his dad needed time, but it still hurt just a little to not be able to tell him about him and Yoongi’s last year together.

It wasn’t until they were leaving that the topic even came up. With Jimin and Yoongi standing at the threshold, bags in hand as Jimin’s parents prepared to wave them out, Jimin’s dad said a simple, “I suppose if you’re going to be with anyone, Yoongi’s not terrible.”

Yoongi blinked in surprise as Jimin ogled his father, “What?” He said.

Jimin’s dad clapped his hands together and stood beside his wife. “If he’s as serious about you as he claims he is, then I can be okay with this.”

Jimin looked from Yoongi to his dad. Stepping over the threshold, he hesitated from where his arms held up, ready to offer a hug. His father closed the distance, pulling him in, his mother joining in from the side, pressing a soft kiss to her son’s forehead.

Yoongi remained where he was, a soft smile on his features.

Because of their farewell, Jimin’s spirits were alight as they walked from the house, making their way to the subway system nearby.

“Before we go home,” Yoongi said. “Take me somewhere.”

“Where?” Jimin asked, perplexed.

“Your favorite place in Busan,” Yoongi said. “Wherever you loved to go the most.”

“But our luggage,” Jimin jostled the suitcase.

“We’ll rent lockers in the subway.”


So maybe that was how Yoongi found himself on the beach of Busan, Jimin just beside him as the oncoming winter wind whipped through the air, stealing the air straight from his lungs. The waves crashed over the sand, grey against the faded blue of the sky.

“I used to come here all the time as a kid,” Jimin said. “It’s prettier in the summer.”

Yoongi was looking at Jimin, looking at how his cheeks tinted pink from the cold air, his hair tasseled by the wind — watched how he tugged his jacket's sleeves past his fingertips to keep them warm.

“I think it’s perfect,” Yoongi said without tearing his gaze away.

Jimin met it and scoffed, a smile stealing over his lips anyways.

“What did you talk to my dad about anyways,” Jimin asked, crossing his arms as they walked through the sand on the empty shore closer to the dark waters. “You said you talked, not that you essentially garnered his blessing.”

“We talked about you,” Yoongi tucked his hands into his pockets. “Mostly you.”

Jimin pouted.

“About how much I love you,” Yoongi said. “About our first fight.”

Jimin’s eyes widened at that. “You told him about that?”

“Yeah, about the book you threw and everything.”

Jimin huffed.

Yoongi jostled him with a smile. “It was nice,” Yoongi admitted. “Talking to someone who knows you that well, who loves you that much.”

Jimin looked to him from the side.

“I told him we were long-term, that I wanted to be with you forever. That this was going to last.”

Jimin’s footsteps slowed as he stared at Yoongi in awe.

“We’re end goals, remember?” Yoongi said. “You and I. I don’t want to ever be without you.”

Jimin leaned against him, stealing his hand from his pocket to intertwine their fingers. “You won’t be,” he assured.

“I’d marry you right now if you wanted me to,” Yoongi said.

Jimin halted completely at that, turning to him.

“Would you still say yes?”

With the wind whipping his hair and the cold flushing his cheeks, Jimin pushed his cold finger to Yoongi’s chin and said, “Of course.”

“Maybe engagement isn’t so off my radar anymore,” Yoongi admitted.

“Really?” Jimin asked.

“Yeah,” Yoongi admitted, heart, skipping a beat in nervous anticipation.

“Then maybe you should propose,” Jimin shrugged, faking a nonchalance that disappeared in his smile and the light in his eyes.

“Maybe I will,” Yoongi said.

Jimin turned to him, shocked.

And yeah, Yoongi wanted that forever. Wanted all of Jimin forever.

Excitement twisting the muscles in his heart, Yoongi patted down his pockets, for something — anything — a stray strand, a key chain, a — a — Yoongi reached for his earlobe, removing the loop earring from his cartilage. 

Jimin’s mouth fell open as Yoongi knelt in the damp sand, cold against his jeans.

“Are you serious?” Jimin gasped.

“Surprisingly,” Yoongi nodded, “Yes,” Yoongi fiddled with the silver loop, holding it up as he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the words he was about to say and finding his soul so at peace in the commitment he was about to make.

“Yes,” Jimin said before Yoongi even got a word out.

Jimin immediately clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Yes?” Yoongi pressed.

Jimin nodded. “But I didn’t mean to interrupt. Say it,” he edged Yoongi on.

“Park Jimin,” Yoongi started. “Will you please, pretty please —.”

“Yes,” Jimin said again, eyes crinkling as he giggled. His hand stretched out to intertwine his fingers between Yoongi’s own outstretched hand.

“Park Jimin, will you marry me?” Yoongi rushed out in one breath to avoid getting interrupted, beaming as Jimin fell to the ground in front of him, knees sinking into the sand as he cupped Yoongi’s face.

He nodded. “Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes.”

And maybe they were in public. But maybe they were also getting reckless. Because Yoongi surged forward to claim his kiss, Jimin’s arms wrapping tight around his neck as Yoongi pulled him in close, kissing the heat from his mouth and the laughter from his lips.

When the separated, Yoongi took Jimin’s hand, sliding the silver earring over Jimin’s ring finger where it was stopped before the second knuckle, too small to be pushed down anymore. Yoongi looked down at where it rested, stuck above the rose gold band that Jimin hadn’t taken off since that day in Japan two years ago, and nodded once, looking up, “I’ll get you a new one.”

“No,” Jimin shook his head. “I don’t want a new one. It’s perfect.” He held out his hand to look at it. “I’ll get it stretched out or something.”

Yoongi nodded, falling forward to steal another kiss from Jimin’s lips.

“I love you,” Jimin said.

“I love you,” Yoongi repeated, feeling perfectly sated in that simple statement.


The ride home was perfect. Jimin’s hand was held in Yoongi’s and he didn’t care if anyone saw though he doubted anyone would still. Jimin continued to admire his makeshift ring like it was the worlds most flawless diamond and not an earring and Yoongi was in love. Was so, very, intently in love with the boy next to him.

They hauled their belongings into their apartment, finding the whole gang was accounted for In the kitchen enjoying takeout containers from their favorite local restaurant. 

“Oh, hey guys,” Namjoon waved. 

“How was the parent thing?” Jungkook leaned back to ask.

Jimin’s breath heaved with his excitement, smile bright on his face as he announced. “Yoongi and I are engaged.”

Somewhere, someone (Namjoon) dropped their chopsticks to the ground as the five people in front of them blinked owlishly at their friends.

The silence died as a flurry of questions was announced their way:

“Who proposed to who?”

“How did it happen?”

“Does this mean the family thing went well?”

“Why didn’t you invite us?” (That one was from Jin).

Jimin giggled brightly as he recalled all the details in rapid succession, spilling it all out in only a few breaths before he was grabbing Yoongi around the waist and tugging him back to their bedroom.

“You can’t leave,” Hoseok stood up in protest. “You have to tell us more.”

“We just got engaged,” Jimin said, “And I wanna celebrate, so we’re going to our room now.” He smiled in a way that spoke against all opposition.

Hoseok nodded once and sat down. “Alrighty then,” he said with a nod.

“Hold up,” Jin called, stopping both boys as they turned to basically run to their room. “We’re happy for you,” Jin said with an encouraging smile.

Jimin tugged Yoongi out of the kitchen to the hallway containing their room, hearing Namjoon say: “We should probably put on a movie right about now.”

“A loud movie,” Jungkook added.

Jimin didn’t care as their door was swept closed behind them, Jimin falling against it as Yoongi pushed up against him to claim every last bit of air from his lungs.

In the bed they’d come to share, their bodies moved together into the night, each drawing careful sounds out of the other as they found their rhythm, making love in the most perfect way Yoongi could ever find himself to imagine.

Satisfaction came in waves, but the deepest hold was in the knowledge they both shared that no end was in sight. Happiness bloomed under tasseled covers in a shared bed with the wonderful knowledge that all of this, every part if it, was just their beginning.