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Say you do

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It’s late in the afternoon on Saturday when Jimin sprints into the cafe, exactly seven minutes and thirty seconds late. He unwraps his scarf from his throat as he spots Namjoon and drops onto the chair opposite his best friend. 

“I’m sorry, Joon-hyung,” he says. He plucks the beanie off his head and runs his hand through his hair. It’s only early November, but already way too cold for his liking.

Namjoon just shrugs. “It’s no big deal, I was grading essays anyway.” 

Jimin now notices the thick stack of paper on the side of their table, and the way Namjoon twirls around a green pen with his right hand. “Any good?” 

His friend wrinkles his nose. “A trainwreck, to be pretty honest. But it’s not the end of the world. How have you been? I’ve ordered for you, by the way.” He stacks the papers on top of each other and shoves the entire lot in his messenger bag. 

Jimin smiles in gratitude. “Thanks, hyung. I’ve been good. This part of the school year is always… well, you know how it is, but then imagine the excitable energy of twenty four year olds instead of four hundred lethargic twenty year olds.” 

“Honestly? I don’t envy you. Even with the trainwreck essays,” Namjoon adds. 

Jimin shrugs. “They’re a treat, though.” 

A waitress stops by their table, and hands Namjoon a mint tea, and slides an almond cappuccino with vanilla syrup towards Jimin. He wraps his cold fingers around the cup and hopes they’ll soon feel alive again. “You? Feels like I haven’t seen you for ages.” 

Dimples appear on Namjoon’s face, accompanied by a light blush as he looks down and stirs honey through his tea. “We-e-ell… That’s actually why I wanted to meet up. See, um,” he lifts up his left hand from where he rested it in his lap. His ring finger boasts two intertwined strips of silver, topped by three delicate diamonds. 

Hyung ,” Jimin breathes. “Are you really…?” 

A grin breaks out on Namjoon’s face as he nods. Jimin takes Namjoon’s left hand in his and brings it to his side of the table. The ring is beautiful and delicate, and its purpose unmistakeable. “Did Seokjin-hyung ask you, or did you ask him? Tell me all the details.” 

Excitement bubbles within him as Namjoon starts telling the story: how Seokjin had organised an entire day visiting bookstores, each store containing a clue as to the next location, until they at last found themselves in the university bookstore where they had met. Jin had encouraged Namjoon to pull a copy of his favourite philosophical treatises from the shelf, and when Namjoon opened the book, a whole section had been cut out to accommodate the beautiful engagement ring. 

When Namjoon finishes the story, they’re both crying. “It was so cheesy,” Namjoon groans as he wipes the tears from his face. “I love him so much.” 

“I hope you gave him shit for messing up a book,” Jimin says through his tears, but his heart is clenching. Namjoon is one of his oldest friends, and he had witnessed Namjoon and Seokjin’s delicate courtship. That they are now ready to take the next step justifies the destruction of perfectly good books. He feels so happy he could burst. 

“I did, so then we stayed up all night having make up sex,” Namjoon grins. 

“Gross, hyung,” Jimin says, patting his face with a paper towel a waitress supplied when she spotted them both in hysterics. He moves around the table and wraps his arms around his friend. Namjoon isn’t one for physical affection, he knows, but he seems to make an exception as he squeezes Jimin close to his side for a fraction of a second before Jimin draws back.

“I’m really happy, Joon,” Jimin says. 

“Me too,” Namjoon replies. “And there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you. I’ve talked to Seokjin about this and… would you do me the great honour of being my best man?” 

At this, Jimin breaks down into tears again. “Really?”

Namjoon grabs a hold of his hand again, the silver of his ring cold against Jimin's skin. “Really, Jiminie. It's a big responsibility so I would understand if you said no, but there's nobody I would trust more with the job than you.”

“Me? Decline? Oh hyung,” Jimin breathes. “Are you kidding me? I would be honoured.” He moves over and gives Namjoon another reluctant hug. 

I am honoured,” Namjoon tells him, giving him a pat on the top of his head which translates to I love you but that's enough hugging, thank you. 

“Gosh,” Jimin exclaims as he plops back into his seat and gulps down his coffee, regaining some of his composure. “I'm going to organize the best Bachelor's Party in the history of Bachelor's Parties.”

Namjoon grins and shakes his head a little. “There's kind of a lot of work for a best man,” he tells Jimin (and Jimin knows, he has watched plenty of bridezilla shows), “so I think it's best if you and Yoongi-hyung meet up sometime soon and co-ordinate all the tasks.”

Jimin feels the blood rush from his cheeks. The grip on his cup tightens involuntarily. “Yoongi-hyung?”

Namjoon's gaze drops to his own glass, large fingers toying with the sprig of mint, twirling it around the water. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “Yoongi is Seokjin’s best man. So you're probably going to see more of each other. I'm sorry Jimin-ah, I know you two don't like each other but could you please try to get along? For our sake?”

Jimin swallows. 

Min Yoongi, huh? 

“Does he know about me? Being your best man?”

Namjoon nods, and looks up at him. “He had the same reaction as you.”

Jimin bristles. “I'm not having a reaction. I don't see why we can't work together as your respective best men and organise the best possible wedding for our best friends. If he doesn't like me, then that's on him, and I hope he can move past it for you .”

Namjoon grins and meets his eye. “Funny,” he says. “Yoongi said the same about you.”

Jimin already knows he will have clawed his eyes out before Namjoon and Seokjin can tell each other I do



It’s a truth universally acknowledged that things get really fucking awkward when your best friend refuses to get along with your fiance’s best friend.

At least, Jimin images that’s what Seokjin must be thinking about Yoongi. 

When Namjoon and Seokjin got together, some five years ago now, it didn’t take long for both of their respective friend groups to merge until they were virtually indistinguishable from each other. Wherever Namjoon went, there Seokjin followed, with Yoongi and Taehyung and Jungkook following shortly behind like a couple of ducklings. The same applied to Namjoon, who frequently brought Jimin and Hoseok along to pizza nights at Seokjin’s pristine rooftop apartment. 

It was natural and quick, the way both groups latched onto each other, and before too long, they no longer needed Seokjin and Namjoon to bring them together. Before Seokjin and Namjoon celebrated their first anniversary, the two groups had merged into one inseparable, chaotic mess. 

With the notable exception of Min Yoongi. Min fucking Yoongi, who is rude and silent and acts so superior and always, always looks at Jimin like he disapproves . Disapproves of the way he dresses, his laugh, the things he says. It's fine if Yoongi doesn't like him. Really, it is. But he doesn't have to go about making a show of it. 

So Jimin is very much not looking forward to working together on his best friend’s most important day of his life, and thinks that as long as they don’t kill each other between now and June, that everything will be fine. 

A week after his coffee date with Namjoon, he receives a text from a number he hasn’t saved to his phone. I assume you spoke to Namjoon. Let’s meet up to discuss. Tomorrow at 4:30, at the Musain?, it reads. With a sigh, Jimin concludes that he can’t justify not adding Min Yoongi to his contacts any longer, but he adds the disinterested-looking emoji to his screen name, to ease the pain a little. OK, he texts back. 

He’s running it close, very close, willing the underground to go just a little faster as his phone tells him it’s already 4:15. He doesn’t particularly want to feed Yoongi’s bad opinion of him. The thing is just that he always underestimates just how much time it takes to clean up after twenty four-year-olds who spent the afternoon painting. He feels sticky and gross as he exits the underground station at 4:23. The smell of paint still lingers and he wishes he could go home to shower instead.

It’s 4:33 when he stumbles into the cafe. Yoongi sits at a table facing him, looking immaculate as ever, dark rimmed glasses perched low on his nose as he glances at the menu. At the sound of the door, his eyes fly to the watch around his wrist, and then up to Jimin. 

A fabulous start, Jimin concludes. 

“Hello, Jimin,” Yoongi offers. 

“Hi, Yoongi—” it strikes him suddenly that this must be the first time they are spending time alone together. “—ssi,” he finishes. Yoongi looks at him, raising one eyebrow fractionally. He doesn’t tell Jimin to drop the honorifics, though. No just call me hyung.

Jimin sits down on the chair opposite Yoongi, suddenly aware of his shabby, dirty clothes, his black button-down smudged with tiny yellow and red handprints. In another setting, he might have tried to jokingly pass it off as intentional and Fashion , but with Yoongi sitting across from him dressed like the main character of a dark academia murder mystery, it’s hard not to feel self-conscious.

“Sorry for the delay,” he offers. “Little ones are always a little unpredictable. What are you having?” He points to Yoongi’s empty cup — he’s feeling generous, wants to make a good impression, wants to make this work, for Namjoon and Seokjin. He’ll be magnanimous, treat Min fucking Yoongi (disinterested emoji) to a cup of his preferred poison. 

“Coffee,” Yoongi replies, staring intently at Jimin’s face, as if he has mud smudged on his cheek. Unsettling. Weird. Rude . In short: he’s no different than the other times they’ve been in the same room together. 

Jimin rolls his eyes. Coffee in a coffeeshop. Revolutionary. “Yeah, but what kind?” 

“Just coffee,” Yoongi says, one dark eyebrow rising incrementally, like it’s a challenge. “Black coffee.”

“With...nothing in it?” 

“With nothing in it.” 

Jimin raises his eyebrows and looks away, flagging down a waitress. He feels oddly self-conscious, ordering a black coffee and then an almond milk cappuccino. He leaves out the shot of vanilla he normally would’ve ordered for good measure. He feels like Yoongi would judge him for that. 

“So you teach primary school kids, right?” 

Has been for the past two years, thanks for noticing.

Yoongi wraps his hand around the cup of coffee. He has large hands, Jimin notices. Veiny, too. 

“That must be very taxing, little kids.” Yoongi drones, in that odd tone of his.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Well,” Yoongi says, dragging a finger across the rim of his cup absent-mindedly and looking around the cafe. “Obviously your work must be very hard. It’s an admirable thing you’re doing.” 

Fucking Min Yoongi and the nerve of him. 

“Just because you teach at a University and I at a primary school,” Jimin bristles, “it doesn’t mean that my work is inconsequential.” 

Yoongi’s eyes grow larger. “Jimin, I didn’t —” He lets out a sigh, drags that abnormally large hand of his across his face. “Look. Seokjin and Namjoon are getting married. Let’s just try and get along enough to manage all the best man stuff. We don’t have to be friends .” He wrinkles his nose as he says it.

Jimin lets out a sigh, decides to let it go. “Well, at least we agree on one thing.” 

At that, Yoongi narrows his eyes slightly, but in a blink, he’s back to looking his normal, disinterested, rude self. “Have you got any idea of the responsibilities of a best man?” 

“You think I’m not up to them?” 

Yoongi rolls his eyes, takes a sip of his coffee. Dark like his soul, Jimin imagines. Yoongi leans back in his chair and regards him. “Don’t put words into my mouth, Jimin. It’s cheap.” 

“Whatever,” Jimin, too, takes some of his coffee. It’s less sweet than normal, without the vanilla syrup. “Joon told me he wants me — us — to coordinate the groomsmen’s and bridesmaids’ clothing, guard the rings, and organise the bachelor parties.” 

Yoongi hums, as though disappointed he wasn’t able to catch Jimin lacking.  “Party. Singular,” he says. “Seokjin told me he and Joon want a couple of days in Jeju, just our group.” 

Great , Jimin thinks. Fucking perfect. If Seokjin and Namjoon’s bachelor parties are combined, that means they definitely will be seeing a lot of each other. He huffs in annoyance, then looks up at Yoongi.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I— what?” 

“You’ve been staring at me like I have dirt on my nose ever since I walked in.” 

Yoongi snorts. “Ah, that’s because you… you do. Kind of looks like paint?” He waggles a finger in the direction of Jimin’s cheek. 

“Oh. Oh . Jesus,” Jimin can only say. He rubs at his cheek. 

“No, more to the left. No — no, higher,” Yoongi tells him. “No, here, let me.” He reaches over and swipes his thumb across the high point of Jimin’s cheek. Yoongi’s thumb feels slightly scratchy against his skin. Jimin thinks it’s the first time in almost five years that they’ve touched each other. 

He can feel himself blushing as Yoongi slowly pulls back, satisfied with his work. “Thank you,” he mutters. 

Yoongi — God forbid — quirks up a corner of his mouth, barely noticeable yet there, in return. Arrogant asshole, having the gall to actually laugh at him. “Now, let’s just get to work, okay?” 

They spend the next thirty minutes or so working out a rough plan. They have nine months until Seokjin and Namjoon get married, and so they are on a tight schedule. It looks like they’ll be drinking coffee together every two weeks. Jimin briefly wonders what he did in his past life to have deserved a fate like this. Yoongi doesn’t look any happier at the prospect. 

But he finds that once they are working, they work together better than expected. Jimin is ready to bristle at anything Yoongi suggests, and Yoongi seems equally ready to scoff at Jimin’s ideas; but both are proven wrong as they manage to work through the initial planning with a surprising lack of mutual anger. 

Honestly? It all could have been worse.

When they move to the counter to pay for their coffees (the second coffee Jimin ordered did include vanilla syrup), Yoongi wordlessly pulls out his card when the cashier announces their total, just as Jimin whips out his phone. 

“No, Yoongi-ssi, I can pay for our drinks.”

Yoongi just gives him a look. 

“Really, I can!” Jimin had pushed for a second round of drinks, after all. He shoves into Yoongi lightly, trying to push him away from the counter, and brings down his phone to pay. But Yoongi puts a firm hand on his shoulder and pushes him to the side, and with a small smile to the cashier, pays for both of them. “You can pay next time,” Yoongi tells him, low in his ear, his voice so close that the hairs on the back of Jimin’s neck stand up. 

The cashier giggles. “Always such a joy watching couples bicker so much on their first date.” 

Jimin’s mouth drops open. “I — we — I’m —”

Yoongi clears his throat. “What he’s trying to say so very eloquently is that we were most definitely not on a date.” 

The cashier’s face drops. “Oh, but the...” she drags her own thumb across her cheek, the same spot as where Jimin had had a smudge of paint. “Well, anyway. Um. Have a good day, I guess?” 

Jimin is still feeling a little shell-shocked, so Yoongi places his firm hand on Jimin’s shoulder again and ushers him out. The air is cold and brisk, winter just around the corner. Jimin wishes he had brought a scarf, but he’s dumb like that.

Yoongi shoves his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “Well. I’ll see you around, I guess.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Jimin breathes. 

He watches as Yoongi disappears from view. 




Whatever magic they had worked during their previous meeting is shattered over the course of November and December — busy months by all accounts, let alone with a wedding to plan. They meet twice to work out some organisation minutiae, and the first ends up with a screaming match in the middle of the cafe —

(“We are not bringing in a stripper for Seokjin’s bachelor party, strippers are weird . Also, what is this, Park Jimin, some bad grainy porn from the early 2000s? You think we’re gonna sit in a nice little circle and suck off a stripper, take it in turns?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? What is this, Min Yoongi, the 1950s? You’re such a prude , Christ. Strippers are fun. And sexy .” He waggles his eyebrows.

Yoongi’s lips part in surprise and he leans forward on the table. “A prude ? Did you just—”

“Besides, people don’t suck off strippers anymore, I don’t think,” Jimin adds, scrunching his nose a little and offering a shrug.

Yoongi stares at him for a second.

“Er— gentlemen? You’re going to have to stop shouting about porn, there are children here.” ) 

— and the second one ends with Jimin barely having the time to hang up his coat and toe off his shoes before he dives into his liquor cabinet and takes a deep swig of soju straight from the bottle, one that’s soon followed by another and another, until he falls down on his kitchen floor and curses Namjoon for even meeting Seokjin, because Yoongi’s ideas on weddings and romance are depressing. 

(“Do you ever want to get married?” Jimin asks him at one point. He doesn’t know what prompts him to pose the question.

Yoongi scoffs at him, leaning forward across the table. “Marriage is such an outdated and capitalist institution. Why would you spend hundreds of millions of won on a party .” 

“But it’s a celebration of the love you have for another person,” Jimin argues.

“Really, Jimin?” he cocks an eyebrow. “You’d need a whole over the top celebration just to tell someone that you love them? How sad.” 

“That’s a fucked up way to say you’re a cynical asshole who hates love,” Jimin says, but he feels himself blushing a little. 

Yoongi shrugs. “I just think there are other ways to show someone you love them. Besides, one in three marriages end in divorce, anyway.”)

It doesn’t help that statistics aren’t on Jimin’s side either this Christmas. Over the years, they have started celebrating Secret Santa, a tradition Seokjin had brought with him from his exchange year in London. 

The way Jimin looks at it is this: there is a 50% chance that he will draw Yoongi’s name for their gift exchange, and there is a 50% that he won’t. Over the past years, fate has smiled kindly upon him, supplying him first with Seokjin, then Taehyung, then Jungkook and then Taehyung again. And buying presents for them was fine , fantastic even. Seokjin’s delighted expression at the candy underwear Jimin had bought him as a joke is still something he wishes he had captured on film; Namjoon’s widened pupils and parted lips he’s happy not to have immortalized. He briefly wonders what had happened to the candy underwear.

But Fate — or statistics, whatever — must have really taken the time to read up on the files of his past and current life’s misdeeds when the name he receives in his inbox is none other than Min fucking Yoongi. His wishlist is what Jimin had expected of him: so mind-numbingly boring that Jimin is going to have to take it upon himself to come up with something fun. Socks, Aftershave, Chocolate? Cringe .

“What’s Yoongi like?” He asks Namjoon one day. They’re on the same homeward bound train, packed like sardines.

“What’s prompted this?” Namjoon narrows his eyes at him as he shifts his messenger bag to his other shoulder. “Yoongi is — well, I don’t see why you can’t figure that out for yourself, you see him more often than I do.” 

That’s probably true, but if Jimin were to explain what Yoongi is like, he would say: excruciatingly annoying, bad at talking, even worse at being a little bit of fun, and his hands are truly unnecessarily large. But the way Yoongi works with the rest of their group seems to somehow — and Jimin really doesn’t have the intel on how — suggest that Yoongi is none of those things? 

It’s not that he’s curious. Except. He is. Because he really does not know why his friends act as if Yoongi is the bees’ knees, when Jimin is yet to see an ounce of niceness in his personality, if he has one at all. 

There’s a challenge in this. Jimin doesn’t want his friends to think that he’ll go all the way for them , while refusing to buy a personal gift for Yoongi. He knows they know that Yoongi and Jimin don’t like each other, but he wants to show them he’s not a petty little bitch. Wants to show Yoongi he isn't. He'll take the moral high ground and show the man. He'll buy Yoongi the gift of a lifetime and really show him. Spite, if anything, is a great motivator. 

So he sets out on a little exploration of Min fucking Yoongi (disinterested emoji). Seokjin tells Jimin that Yoongi likes whiskey, and Jimin might have figured that Yoongi would be into something as pretentious and old-mannish as whiskey (does anybody genuinely enjoy the taste of whiskey, he wonders). Taehyung tells him he’s into playing guitar (playing boring-ass country music, Jimin has no doubt). Jungkook offers another useless crumb when he tells Jimin that Yoongi likes to read. A literature professor that likes to read. Groundbreaking.

He listens and he observes.

Their usual cafe is close to the campus where Yoongi works, and Jimin has the absolute pleasure to overhear two girls, a couple of years younger than himself, mention Professor Min’s class as they wait for their coffee to be prepared. “And there I was, sobbing my eyes out in that abandoned corridor — you know the one,” he hears one of the girls say, “and suddenly Professor Min showed up and asked me if I was okay. I thought I would die ,” she adds as her friend gasps in shock. 

Jimin tries very hard to keep his face impassive. 

“You’re kidding me,” the other girl answers. “What did you say?” 

The first girl groans, “I actually told him about the breakup with Jihoon, I can’t believe it. I just blurted it out? But he was so nice about it? He listened to me and gave me a bottle of water and, you’re not gonna believe me, he actually said ‘men are shit’ and sort of awkwardly patted my shoulder?”

“What the fuck,” the second girl whispers, mirroring Jimin’s thoughts.

The first girl nods vigorously. “And then he gave me an extension on my essay and told me to buy some ice cream and wallow?” 

“To wallow ? Holy shit.” 

The girls disappear after their names are called out by the barista and Jimin’s head is buzzing with this new-found information.

Okay, so maybe — just maybe, Yoongi hides a tiny bit of empathy under that carefully disinterested expression of his. 

Then another thought strikes him: what if Yoongi is like that with everyone except for him? What if that expression of mild distaste is exclusively reserved for him ? What if he is the problem? The thought leaves a hint of bitterness in his mouth. 

But the next time they meet, Jimin can’t help but notice how unfailingly nice and polite Yoongi is to the waitress and the cashier, and how he smiles a little when a young parent carries her baby into the coffee shop. 

He hardly ever smiles at Jimin, though. Always that air of indifference, disdain even, as if Yoongi would much rather be eaten alive by tigers than be in this coffee shop with Jimin. 

So now he knows several things about Yoongi:

  1. he does not always scowl, but he does when he’s with Jimin
  2. he dislikes Jimin
  3. he dislikes strippers as a concept and may or may not be a prude
  4. he thinks men are shit (not necessarily related to the above)
  5. he’s nice to his students and to the general public (but why not to Jimin?)
  6. he’s been know to, on very (and Jimin wants you to know very) rare occasions, say something mildly comical

And that’s still not a lot to go on, but he’ll have to make do, and in the end he thinks he manages to put together a decent gift for Yoongi. 

They celebrate Secret Senta early in January at Seokjin and Namjoon’s. Jimin hasn’t been there before, the couple only recently having bought the sprawling rooftop penthouse. His mouth drops open as he steps inside. It had taken almost twenty years for the elevator to reach the twenty-ninth floor. 

 “I think I’m having an acute case of altitude sickness,” he announces to nobody in particular; Seokjin has already disappeared into the kitchen to avert some sort of crisis. Something about Namjoon and chickpeas and forks. Jimin doesn’t ask.

He hears Yoongi snort from the living room, which seems like it’s forty-five kilometers away. Yoongi is alone, dressed comfortably in jeans and a dark knitted jumper, sitting cross-legged on the forest-green velvet couch. 

“This is so extra,” Jimin breathes as he looks around. The bare bones of the apartment are all Seokjin, clean lines, dark floors, stark white walls and sleek applications; but the cozy clutter, the warm green colours everywhere and the stacks of books dumped seemingly at random throughout the living room scream Namjoon’s name. 

“I think my own house could fit in this living room ten times over,” Yoongi remarks. They share a look because Jimin can relate.

There’s — Jimin is almost hesitant to admit it, in case he’s wrong, but there almost seems to be less hostility between them. He suppresses a yawn — the trip to the natural history museum with the kids was four days ago and he still hasn’t fully recovered — and drags a hand through his hair, glad that he can have some peace and quiet before the rest of their friends arrive, when he’ll have to be Fun and Happy Park Jimin. 

He takes his time running his fingers down the spines of Namjoon’s books. There are books on philosophy from all parts of the world, in all languages of the world, and Jimin wonders how Namjoon has the time and patience to read all these, let alone learn them by heart, and actually form opinions on them. Opinions that got him to graduate from his PhD summa cum laude and then got him a job at one of Seoul’s most prestigious universities. Jimin bites his lip, suppressing the urge to compare Namjoon’s glowing achievements to his own rather underwhelming ones.

“Pumpkin, no, hand me the knife,” Jimin suddenly hears from the kitchen, followed by, “No, darling, I can do it, I swear,” and then, “Joon-bug, I’d actually like to marry you before you die of a self-inflicted knife wound to the chest,” which is followed by, “But baby…”, “No, kitten. Just give me the knife”.

Jimin turns and sees Yoongi’s matched expression of utter disgust. (He mentally high-fives himself for having unlocked a new Min Yoongi Facial Expression™). Yoongi slowly brings a finger to his mouth and makes a gagging motion. 

Jimin scrunches his nose. “Affection. Disgusting.”

“There are some things you shouldn’t have to know about your friends,” Yoongi agrees with him. “They're never like this in public.”

“You’re so right, honey bun ,” Jimin says, flopping down onto the sofa next to Yoongi, feeling a surge of bravery. 

He doesn’t expect Yoongi to even reply to him, expects him to roll his eyes at the very most. But Yoongi laughs, sweet and low, barely audible, before saying. “Aren’t I always, pudding?” 

Jimin scrunches his nose in disgust as he pulls his legs up on the sofa, wrapping his arms around his knees. “ Pudding , really?” 

Yoongi looks at him, head cocked slightly to the side. 

The doorbell rings.

“What,” Yoongi drawls, “want me to call you kitten, too?” 

The bell rings again, saving Jimin from having to reply. Yoongi looks towards the kitchen, then towards the front door. “Seems like Princess and Peaches are too busy making out in the kitchen. Or treating stab wounds, I don’t know.” 

At this, Jimin finds himself barking out a laugh. Yoongi is funny. He can't deny it any longer. Damn. He adds it to his mental list of Things He Knows About Min fucking Yoongi. 

Yoongi effortlessly pushes himself up from the sofa, and with a pat on Jimin’s knees, moves away to open the door. “Be right back, sweetie.” 

“Don’t be too long, daddy,” Jimin tells him, voice reflecting the pout on his lips. He really doesn’t know what’s getting into him.

Yoongi just glances over his shoulder, and makes the gagging motion again.

When he returns, it’s with Taehyung and Hoseok shouting blue murder as they take in the apartment, and it doesn’t take long for Jimin to get excited and start shouting along with them. 

There’s an expression on Yoongi’s face Jimin can’t quite read -- confusion, disappointment, annoyance? Jimin is improving at reading Yoongi’s expressions, but he finds that he is still woefully lacking. Yoongi lingers by the three of them for a while, looking on, softly thrumming his fingers on his thigh. After a while, he abruptly stands up from the sofa and moves silently into the kitchen.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Taehyung says as he registers Jimin’s frown. “We’re just being a bit too loud for him. He’s gonna recharge with Joon for a bit.” 

Maybe that’s why Yoongi doesn’t like him, maybe he thinks he’s too loud, too boisterous, that he doesn’t have a filter. But that can’t be it, can it, though? Or at least, that can’t be all , because Hoseok and Taehyung are as loud as he is, and Yoongi likes them. He puts the thought aside. 

Eventually Jungkook arrives too, and the elder three finally stop doing whatever they were doing in the kitchen. Namjoon seems whole and uninjured, and there’s the added bonus of homemade snacks that they carry into the living room, so all is well. 

They settle on the soft carpet around the table, eyeing the stack of boxes holding their Secret Santa gifts nervously. 

Taehyung gifts Hoseok two tickets to a prestigious ballet company’s performance of The Sleeping Beauty . Hoseok wraps his arms around Taehyung and kisses his cheek, so close to the corner of his mouth that Jimin startles and thinks: keep an eye on that . Yoongi catches his eye. He must have noticed the interaction too, because he subtly raises his eyebrows. Then, Jungkook gifts Namjoon a huge replica bust of Marcus Aurelius, with a hole in the top of its head (“For a plant!” Jungkook says excitedly) that Namjoon immediately starts tearing up over, and then Jungkook starts crying too, and Seokjin wraps his arms around the both of them until they regain some semblance of calmth. 

Namjoon has bought Taehyung a set of fancy gouache paints and an A5 notebook with thick, scratchy paper, tells him, “Let’s take a class together soon.” After Hoseok gifts Jin a intimidating looking cookbook and socks with Park Seo Joon’s face on them (“I know you have a thing for Joons,” Hoseok grins), a sneaking suspicion is starting to creep up on Jimin because only Jungkook hasn’t had his gift yet, aside from Yoongi and himself and if Jungkook’s Secret Santa turns out to be Jin, then —

Jungkook shrieks with happiness as he unwraps a pair of hot pink boxing gloves and then — god forbid — a goldfish swimming happily inside of a clear plastic bag. Jimin knows instantly that this can’t be Yoongi’s doing. 

The realisation also seems to dawn on Yoongi. They catch each other’s eye and Jimin is sure that the fearful expression on Yoongi’s face matches his own. 

Jimin had a diary when he was nine, one that he wrote in religiously and in the greatest detail. He’s long since ended the habit, but if twenty-five year old Jimin were to have one right now, he would write, Dear diary, today the entire fucking universe just turned against me. 

Statistics really aren't on his side this year. 

Yoongi is first to hand over his gift box, and Jimin notices how everyone around them has gone quiet, probably dying to see the spectacle that's about to unfold. Jimin feels the thrum of anticipation, too, as he takes the box from Yoongi’s hands. 

He catches a glimpse of Yoongi biting his thumb as he unwraps the packages: there’s a couple of face masks that look pretty good, a finger painting set (“Try to keep the paint off your face this time,” Yoongi says with a nervous grin, and Jimin swats at his arm with the wrapping paper), and then finally, he unwraps a stunning looking recipe book, a delicious looking pink cake on its cover. 100 Dairy Free Cakes And Desserts , the title reads. 

“It’s... everytime we’re at the café you buy their dairy free lemon cake and you always have almond milk instead of regular milk, so I thought —” Yoongi rushes to explain, but Jimin cuts him off.

“I love it, thank you so much. Next time, I’ll bring something I made with this,” he taps the hardback cover with his finger. “Promise. It’s really thoughtful of you.” 

Yoongi gives him a tight smile, and then people are clamouring for Yoongi to unwrap his gifts.

It feels. Odd. Because Jimin wasn’t lying when he told Yoongi it was thoughtful of him. He could easily have just gotten him a generic set of candles and a smelly body wash, but Yoongi clearly has put in effort to come up with a gift. Even the finger painting set is thoughtful in a way, because it’s something from a memory between the two of them, even if there’s a slight jibe in there, too. He didn’t even know that Yoongi had noticed he didn’t eat or drink dairy.

Well, fuck. He may just have to delete the disinterested emoji from Yoongi’s contact in his phone, because he clearly isn’t. 

“Oh wow, Jimin…” Yoongi trails off as he unwraps the book. It’s an illustrated edition of Jane Austen’s Emma , gold-embossed letters on its cover. “It’s so beautiful, thank you.” He leafs through the book and lingers on some of the illustrations. 

“I, um… I know you teach an Austen class so I - er… happened to watch the Emma movie and I really liked it so…” he trails off awkwardly.

Yoongi looks up from the pages of the book, cocks his head and looks at Jimin curiously. “Yeah, you would enjoy Emma.” 

Jimin doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but it sounds like Yoongi is happy with the gift, so he lets it slide. He feels anticipation building low in his stomach as takes out the second package. Then, Namjoon next to him lets out an accusing, “Jimin, no , you did not .” Across the table, Hoseok chokes on his beer, and Taehyung is quick to scoot over and slap his back a couple of times. 

Yoongi is quiet as he takes in the calendar. 

“Jimin-ah,” Seokjin says, leaning over Yoongi’s shoulder. “Strippers in kilts ? On a calendar? You bought Yoongi a whole ass calendar with pictures of naked Scots?”

“Strippers?” Jungkook looks up from where he’s been wrapped up in some silent kind of communication with his goldfish Jack (“Named after Jack from Titanic,” he had explained earlier. “Who demonstrably had great experiences with water,” Taehyung deadpanned). 

“Um, yeah?” Jimin says. 

Everyone’s gazes — including Jungkook’s — shift from Jimin to Yoongi, gauging his reaction. 

Yoongi bites his bottom lip, turning over the calendar to look at the back, where there’s a miniature of each month’s photo. 

More silence. 

Then — 

— Yoongi giggles, actually giggles , and then dissolves into wordless laughter, grabbing onto his shins so as not to fall to the ground. A small part of Jimin can’t help but think that it’s a good look on Yoongi.

The tension is broken, and Jimin finds himself grinning along. The rest of the group takes a second to catch up, by the looks of it because they can’t quite wrap their heads around whatever it was they just witnessed. Jimin doesn’t blame them, but he feels relieved when they, too, join in the laughter.

“Ah, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says. “Thank you. I’ll put this up on my fridge.” 

“Not your bedroom door?” Hoseok teases. 

“Shut up,” Yoongi says, but he’s grinning. 

Seokjin leans forward and asks Jimin in a conspiratorial whisper that’s definitely way too loud, “Say, Jimin-ah, where would one be able to buy such a calendar?” 

Namjoon leans in too at that, a little too eager for Jimin’s liking, and from that point on, everything dissolves into chaos. 




“Namjoon’s been pestering me,” Jimin announces a week later, sliding into a chair opposite Yoongi. He blinks once, twice, the image of Yoongi dressed like he’s walked straight out of the set of Dead Poets Society something he’s going to have to process real quick. A black button down underneath a cream-coloured cable knit sweater. And those glasses . Yoongi in work clothes is something else. He dismisses the thought. “He’s been telling me I need to make more of an effort with you.” 

Yoongi scoffs. “Planning his wedding isn’t enough for him?” He pushes a cappuccino towards Jimin, and Jimin knows it’s got both almond milk and a pump of vanilla. Because Yoongi is observant, he knows now. (His list of Things He Knows About Min fucking Yoongi is ever expanding.)

Jimin rolls his eyes but smiles. “Not like that. Make an effort with you . He thinks I hate you and that the stripper calendar was mean and underhand. I explained to him that it was an inside joke between us—”

“— which it wasn’t,” Yoongi supplies.

“Obviously,” Jimin continues. “But I wasn’t about to tell him that we’re talking about getting a stripper in for their Bachelor’s Party, was I?” 

“Correction,” Yoongi says in between sips of coffee, “ You are talking about hiring a stripper.” 

“Tomato, Tomato.” 

“I think they’re both in on this,” Yoongi tells him. “Seokjin told me to be nicer to you.” 

At that word, both Yoongi and Jimin wrinkle their nose in disgust. “What do they think this is, some nineties romcom? Though I have to say, I wouldn’t mind being likened to Meg Ryan.”

“Great hair,” Yoongi agrees, gesturing vaguely at the mop of blond hair on top of Jimin’s head. “Not sure about me being Tom Hanks, though.” 

Jimin cocks his head, looks at Yoongi, surprised that the reference landed. “You’re cuter than Tom Hanks, but I can kind of see the grumpiness?” 

Yoongi’s lips part in surprise, and Jimin registers what he had just said. Cute ? Jesus fucking christ. He should probably start googling coffins. A nice one lined with pink velvet, perhaps.

“You think I’m grumpy?” 

Jimin groans. “I just literally called you cuter than Tom Hanks, and the grumpy is all you registered? Jesus.” 

There’s a flash of something in Yoongi’s eye as the corner of his mouth quirks up. (And Jimin needs to call the papers, tell them to headline with: Notable Asshole Min Yoongi (28) Discovered Smiling

“Oh, that. But I know I’m cute.” 

Yoongi has the actual audacity to grin before he ducks his head and stares into the deep black depths of his coffee, as if the boldness was just a little too much for him. But it leaves Jimin reeling. Is this the Yoongi his friends get to see? Were they really not just bullshitting when they told him there was more to Yoongi than met the eye? He’s starting to really fucking wonder. 

(New headline: Park Jimin (25) Suffers Brain Hemorrhage After Man Makes Harmless Joke, Shaken To The Core)

“You don’t get to teach hundreds of horny twenty-year-olds without being told you’re cute once or twice,” Yoongi explains with a shrug. 

Jimin can imagine. “I’m glad I can’t relate,” he says. Yoongi actually laughs , the sound sweet, slightly husky. “Though I do get the ‘my mum thinks you are cute, will you be my new dad?’ more often than I care for.” 

“Same,” Yoongi says with a shrug, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. 

( Spotted: Park Jimin (25) Laughing At Joke Made By Sworn Nemesis Min Yoongi (28))

Then, a little more serious, with his eyes cast downward into his coffee cup, Yoongi says, “I'm just… just a little shy. Not grumpy.”

Jimin regards him for a second and hums. “I don’t actually know how to get to know someone you’ve known for five years already, so I googled, and I found a list of thirty-six questions—”

Yoongi looks up and tsks. “Those are to make strangers fall in love with each other, Jimin-ah,” he drawls.

“Don’t be delusional, Yoongi- ah ,” Jimin cocks an eyebrow at him, willing him to respond. If Yoongi can take on a patronising tone, then so can he. But Yoongi appears not to even hear him. “I’d sooner eat my own foot than fall in love with you. Anyway, I’m already engaged to several mums. And dads, actually.” 

Yoongi throws back the remnants of his coffee. “Mmh. Just making clear. But you’re not seriously suggesting we go through the entire fucking list right now? When we have a wedding to plan?” 

“Ten questions per meeting,” Jimin offers. “That way, we’ll know each other well enough to get Namjoon and Seokjin off our backs in a month’s time.” 

“One question,” Yoongi counters.


“Come on, ” Yoongi groans. “Three. Final offer.” 

Jimin considers for a moment. “Fine. Three.” 

Yoongi looks at him, quiet for a beat too long. “If— if we’re going to be talking for a while, do you maybe want to get something to eat instead? I’m famished actually. I always forget to feed myself when I’m lecturing all day.” 

“I — yeah, that’s alright actually.” 

( Breaking: Park Jimin (25) Totally Making An Effort For His Best Friend’s Sake!!!!)

It’s Jimin’s turn to pay, and it goes without the hassle of their first meeting. After, Yoongi guides him to a tteokbokki place around the corner from the cafe. The January wind is biting cold and Jimin is glad that it’s not too far. He hasn’t been there before, but it looks good, and it’s just crowded enough not to make the silence between them awkward.

“So —” Jimin starts as the elderly owner places their food on the table. “Question one: if you could choose anyone, dead or alive, who would you want to have dinner with?” 

“You,” Yoongi says. “And the rest of the group.”

Jimin narrows his eyes at him. “Be serious.” He reaches across the table to fill Yoongi’s glass with soju

“I am serious. I don’t really need anyone famous to hang out with when I can just have dinner with all of my friends. You of all people know how I am with people I don’t know very well.” 

“We’re not friends though,” Jimin says when Yoongi takes the bottle and pours Jimin his shot. “So why invite me?”

“You’re the added bonus of a pain in the fucking ass.” 

“Right back at you,” Jimin grins after they both throw down their drink. 

They turn to discussing the wedding for a while while they eat, falling back into the familiarity of their antagonism as they disagree on absolutely every subject. (“Yoongi, we’re not buying custom-made Hugo Boss suits for all the groomsmen, do you know how expensive that’s gonna be?” “I think you severely underestimate what Seokjin meant by giving us a literal carte blanche .” — “For the last time, we are not getting strippers, Jimin-ah.” — “And why can’t we hire IU to sing for their first dance?” “I think now you’re overestimating the carte blanche .”) But there’s less of an edge to it, and Jimin takes pleasure in intentionally riling Yoongi up a little. 

They’re halfway through their third bottle of soju, when they revert back to the thirty-six questions, and Jimin learns that while Yoongi wouldn’t want to be famous per se, he doesn’t want to leave the world without having created something. Jimin doesn’t know why, but finds himself telling Yoongi about the pipe dream of his youth, that he had wanted to dance professionally until a cyclist had knocked him over on the street and he had broken his ankle. 

Yoongi sits leaning forward, hand underneath his chin as he looks intently at Jimin, and Jimin wishes he had never spoken. He never talks about this, and he does so for a reason. 

“Are you gonna cry, Jimin-ah?” 

No, ” Jimin answers, blinking quickly. “I’m happy , you know. I love my life, my job, my kids. It’s just — different from what I had imagined my life to be.” 

Yoongi just mmh s. “Different doesn’t have to mean bad.” He sounds sad.

There’s a story behind his words, Jimin knows, but he decides not to press Yoongi. 

Yoongi orders another bottle of soju and brings the conversation back to a relatively safer topic, Seokjin and Namjoon’s wedding. He speaks at length about how he and Seokjin had set up the trail of hints throughout the city, how panicked Seokjin was that Namjoon wasn’t going to understand any of the clues — (“He underestimated Namjoon,” “That’s what I told him.”) — how happy he felt watching Seokjin be happy (“Happiest I’ve been in years,” he admits, something Jimin relates to more than he cares to admit). 

Jimin realises that they are both getting drunk, and getting drunk means danger , because he’s growing increasingly aware of the way Yoongi’s face doesn’t carry its usual disinterested expression, the way Yoongi is letting Jimin see the emotions in his heart written out in plain language on his face. And that’s rather dangerous, isn’t it, especially when he always used to be so set on hating Yoongi’s guts.

( Park Jimin (25) Voluntarily Bonding With Nemesis (28))

“Final question, then,” Jimin says. 

Yoongi’s bottom lip juts out as he pours the last drops of soju into Jimin’s glass. 

Jimin glances at his screen and reads, “Do you rehearse phone calls beforehand?” 

“Used to,” Yoongi tells him. “Don’t like it when I can’t read someone’s face. Makes me anxious.” His nose scrunches up. “But I think I'm getting better at it these days.”


“That’s kind of sweet,” Jimin tells him. ( Park Jimin, What The Fuck?) He doesn’t really know whether he means the nose scrunch or the fact that Min fucking Yoongi is scared of making phone calls. Either. Both. Jimin is drunk.

Yoongi ignores the remark. “You?” 

Jimin thinks for a moment, thoughts hazy. “I don’t mind making phone calls,” he says. “But I’m always worried I’m bothering people, you know? Like I'm worried I annoy people.” 

Yoongi’s head falls to the side as he looks at him intently. “You, bothering people? Un-fucking-heard of.” 

Jimin swats at Yoongi’s arm. “Don’t be a bitch.” 

“‘m not,” Yoongi replies. 

“Obviously. Anyway,” Jimin adds, a beat later. “I think we should call it a night because if I drink any more, I don’t know if I’ll make it home unscathed.” 

“You’re probably right,” Yoongi sighs. He starts wrapping his scarf around his neck. 

Jimin can feel Yoongi’s eyes follow him as he makes his way to the bathroom. When he washes his hands and stares at himself in the mirror, he can’t help but laugh. Park Jimin. Min Yoongi. Four bottles of soju. He isn’t sure this is what Namjoon meant by be nicer to him , but it sure as hell makes for a different kind of Friday night than usual. 

When he exits the bathroom, he heads for the owner, and pulls out his wallet to pay for both their meals. The elderly lady holds up her hand, smiles at him. “Don’t worry about it, honey. Your boyfriend already paid.” 


( Park Jimin (25): Shook)




February is cold and wet, grey sleet colouring the streets of Seoul in muted tones. Annoyed, Jimin pulls his beanie lower over his ears, until there is only a sliver of skin visible between the soft wool on his head and his mask. It looks as if night is fast approaching, the sky dreary and dark, but he knows that it's no later than noon as he exits the underground station and sets off through the rain. He should definitely have brought an umbrella. He should have left his house earlier, too. His heart beats a little faster at the thought of Yoongi catching him slipping once again, the disorganized mess to Yoongi’s punctual stability. 

When he reaches the bakery, it’s a haven of gentle pinks and purples, flowers and plants dotted all around the small space. A delicious, sweet smell wafts towards him. A young assistant behind the counter offers a welcoming bow.

An entire afternoon of stuffing his face with cake is exactly what he needs right now, what he deserves after spending all of yesterday evening meeting up with demanding, mean-spirited parents who think that he doesn't know anything about educating kids just because he’s young. It seems to happen often lately, people making assumptions about him.

Yoongi, naturally, is already there, and Jimin feels a spark of annoyance run beneath his skin, because of course he is late while Yoongi is already there. Jimin glances around the bakery, relieved to see that Seokjin and Namjoon have not arrived, either.

Yoongi is leafing through a magazine on a side-table, something about wedding trends for the spring of 2022, when his senses pick up Jimin’s presence. He swings around, discarding the magazine on the table, and gives him a tight-lipped smile. Now that they see each other every two weeks Jimin has grown more accustomed to reading Yoongi’s face. He’s displeased. 

“Is the concept of getting somewhere on time really that difficult?” Yoongi spits. “With you, I’m used to it. But Namjoon and Seokjin too ?” 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Jimin says. His earlier sense of shame is replaced by something sharper, something to match whatever it is that has got Yoongi all riled up. Not even thirty seconds in each other’s company yet, and Yoongi has already insulted him. “It’s only ten minutes, it’s not a big deal. Maybe they got held up in traffic.” 

“Fuck that, they dragged me along to come and test cakes for their wedding, the least they can do is be here on time. I’ve got little enough time to spare as it is.” Yoongi’s fists are balled at his side, body stiff with annoyance and something Jimin isn’t quite experienced enough to read and interpret. 

He has a bit of a point, Jimin knows: Seokjin and Namjoon should have been here, but he thinks it’s hardly something to throw a fit over, and he doesn't appreciate Yoongi’s tone in the least. He steps closer to Yoongi. He's unsure whether they have ever been this close. “If you have something to say to me, get it out now. If you ruin this day for them, I won't care about trying to get along any longer.”

Yoongi snorts and looks to the side, ignoring Jimin's gaze. “As if you'd dare.”

“Just fucking watch me.” Then, “Well?”

“Well what ?”

“Are you gonna behave?” 

Yoongi looks back at him, eyes large and round, a little hazy. They're too close. Jimin can see the mole on Yoongi’s cheek. He can see the way Yoongi’s chest rises with every heavy intake of breath.

“You're gonna tell me what to do? Piss the fuck off, Jimin.” 

He quickly steps around Jimin, their shoulders brushing together at the movement. 

Jimin wants to say more, but the owner of the bakery comes bustling through the door, her arms loaded with bouquets of flowers, her mouth full of chatty apologies. “I was held up by the rain,” she explains. “It's a nightmare outside. Thankfully my assistant was here, huh?”

Jimin looks pointedly at Yoongi, who just narrows his eyes. 

“You must be the Kim grooms,” she concludes, giving them an appraising look. She looks — disappointed. Jimin would be, too, given the open air of hostility that runs like electric sparks between them, surely tangible to anyone in their vicinity. 

He waits for Yoongi to deny that they're a couple, their usual shtick, but it appears that this time around, Yoongi is the flustered one, so Jimin steps in and explains to her that they are the best men. 

“Oh, I see. Well, please sit down. Help yourself to a magazine. I'll be back in a jiffy with some tea to warm us all up.”

She takes her nervous energy along with her flowers and disappears into the back room. 

“Why the fuck does everyone think we're a couple,” Yoongi says under his breath. Loud enough for Jimin to overhear. As if he meant for Jimin to overhear. He probably did. 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jimin wraps his arms in front of his chest. “She was expecting a couple. She saw two men together. Natural conclusion. But rest assured, it's not like I am any more pleased at it than you are. I'd sooner die ,” he finishes. 

“I'm not good enough for you, huh?” Yoongi lifts his chin. 

“‘Don't put words in my mouth, Jimin, it's cheap,’” he parrots Yoongi’s words from months ago right back at him. 

He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t follow what’s happened— one moment he and Yoongi were getting friendly, having dinner and coffee together and occasionally even having fun, and now it’s as if the past few months have been reversed, and they’re back to who they used to be around one another. 

“I know you don’t like me, Yoongi,” he spits out. “But have the decency to pretend, at least, for your friends.”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open. “Jimin, that’s not —” He looks like he's desperate to say something else, but at that moment, Seokjin and Namjoon burst into the bakery, wet hair plastered to their foreheads, the two men huddled close together. 

“My favourite dongsaengs,” Seokjin smiles, wraps an arm around Jimin first, and then the other around Yoongi. “Sorry for the delay. Subways didn't run ‘cause of the rain and we had to wait for a taxi for ages. I offered him a nice bonus if he stepped on the gas, but alas, he declined.”

“Not everyone can be bribed with money, babe,” Namjoon says, shrugging off his wet coat and hanging it to dry on the back of a chair by the radiator. 

Yoongi at least has the decency to not meet Jimin's eye, looking down at his toes. 

Seokjin looks between them, eyes narrowed. “Sweetie, I thought you said they were getting along better.”

“They are—” Namjoon says at the same time as Yoongi says “We are,” and Jimin says “Aren't we?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow and clears his throat. He releases Yoongi, but keeps his arm tightly around Jimin's shoulder. “So, Jimin-ah, how have the young rascals been treating you? Any more paint accidents? Yoongi told me,” he explains, seeing Jimin's puzzled expression. 

Jimin bites his lip and avoids Yoongi’s gaze, which he can feel landing on his back. He summons a chuckle, flicks a switch, transforms into the Jimin he is with the rest of the group. 

“Any time the kids paint, there's bound to be a paint accident,” he tells Seokjin, putting his own arm around his hyung. From the corner of his eye, he notices Namjoon stepping towards Yoongi, and pulling him in for some quiet whispering. Of course. Jimin had forgotten that they were colleagues too, and that they've grown close over the years as friends, too. They surely must be in each other's confidence. 

The bakery owner enters the shop again, expresses her delight at the soon to be wedded men (“If you weren't going to get married already, I would have introduced you to my son,” to which Seokjin heartily tells her that he'll keep it in mind in case Namjoon and he disagree on cake flavours, which has her quickly wrapped around his finger). She ushers them to one of the tables and brings them tea while they wait for her to organize the first round of cakes. 

Jimin sits down next to Yoongi, because of course Seokjin and Namjoon want to stay glued together. As a result, Jimin and Yoongi sit pressed close together, their thighs and arms brushing together whenever either of them moves. 

“I'm so sorry to drag you away at this time,” Namjoon offers apologetically. “We'll try and make this as quick as possible.”

Beside him, Jimin can feel Yoongi shake his head. “No, it's alright,” he gives a small chuckle and continues, “I probably need an afternoon out of my office. Getting all jittery and irritable.”

Jimin wonders if he's mistaken, but it almost feels as though Yoongi bumps his shoulder into him ever so slightly. 

“Why, what's going on?” He looks between Seokjin, Namjoon and Yoongi. 

“Nothing, really. It's fine,” Yoongi mumbles. 

“Fine?” Seokjin snorts, while Namjoon's lips part in surprise, “Nothing?”

Seokjin turns to Jimin and explains, “The final edit of Yoongi’s monograph on Hwang Jini’s poetry is due this week.”

And meanwhile he hasn't taken off any time at work,” Namjoon adds, shaking his head. 

And woah — that’s. That’s impressive. 

Yoongi grows smaller next to him, head dropped down to his chest. “Guys,” he whines, “It's okay, you know what I'm like.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes at him. “Exactly.”

Seokjin and Namjoon change the subject to something wedding related, and while they begin telling Jimin and Yoongi about surveying their chosen venue, they soon enough realise neither of them are really listening, and start bickering among themselves. 

Jimin is left — confused and feeling like shit. Had he known Yoongi was under such stress he would never have lashed his own frustrations out on him. Neither should Yoongi have, he knows, but he should've cut him short, ignored him. Or even asked him what was wrong, instead of assuming that Yoongi was just out to mess up Jimin's day. 

He bumps his shoulder into Yoongi’s and turns his head ever so slightly. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

Yoongi lets out a shuddering sigh that Jimin feels on his cheek. “I’m sorry too.”

“You can tell me, you know. If something is wrong,” he whispers. 

Yoongi turns his head to the side, and it's only with his present knowledge that he can interpret the downward turn of Yoongi’s mouth.

They're so close, but Jimin can't look away. 

“We aren't friends, though,” Yoongi tells him. “You've said so yourself.”

“I—” That's probably true, Jimin has to admit. “We can try to be better. For their sake. If you want?”

Yoongi swallows, then nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay, friend,” Jimin smiles. “If you ever need any help with anything, just text me. I know you don’t like calling.”

Yoongi grins. “Thank you, friend.” Then, more serious, he adds, “And Jimin — what you said earlier. What you accused me of. That’s… that’s not true. It used to be true, but it’s not now. Okay? I need you to know.” 

Jimin thinks he knew that already. He nods. “Okay.” 

The spell is broken when the owner starts bringing in sixteen types of different cake flavours. “A sugar overdose” Yoongi smiles at her, “just what I needed.” 

Jimin is glad to see him a little more relaxed already.

The four of them spend the afternoon huddled close together, eating so much cake that Jimin is starting to understand what four-year-olds on a sugar rush go through, while outside of the bakery, the rain beats relentlessly on. 

Seokjin wants banana-flavoured sponge, at which point Namjoon moves to slide the engagement ring off his finger. Yoongi advocates for Irish Coffee cake and Seokjin rolls his eyes at him, telling him, “I know you are mentally a 56-year-old man, but, please act like you're a normal person our age for once.” 

Jimin wants raspberries and chocolate. “Basic,” Yoongi groans, dipping a finger in the whiskey buttercream. Jimin finds he's unable to respond to the jibe when Yoongi deftly licks his finger clean. 

Namjoon favours carrot cake, and Seokjin tells him to go live underneath a toadstool in a forest with the fairies. 

In the end, Yoongi is laughing so much he's nearly in tears, and Jimin realises he has never been privy to this unguarded side of him before. It's a side he thinks he likes, thinks he would like to see more of. Seokjin is shrieking as Namjoon is trying to lick a blob of passion fruit butter cream off his nose, and Jimin nearly falls off the bench laughing. Luckily, Yoongi grasps his waist just in time and hauls him upright. 

Minutes later, he finds Yoongi’s hand still lingers. 




what do we have in common 🤔

min fucking yoongi
I feel like this is a trick question? I hope nothing

fuck you

min fucking yoongi
oh, um, God. I have to name three things right?? let me think ill get back at you, my lecture is starting. 

good luck, friend

min fucking yoongi
thank you, friend 😊

min fucking yoongi
ok thanks to you I couldn't concentrate at work but anyway here it is hope you enjoy:

1) were both very competitive to the point of us driving our friends crazy. the 6 hr long monopoly game last week is just one example lol (I won btw you cheated bc you stole money from the bank and took advantage of kook not paying attention when you landed on his hotels, I saw that and still stand by the accusation, and I will film the entire game next time, just a heads up). but I like that about you.. about us
2) we are both very hard workers ig?? I mean not to toot my own horn but I did just submit a two hundred page monograph during the busiest period of the semester lol. you're always putting yourself down for ‘only’ teaching little kids but you do it with such admirable dedication. I love hearing you talk about your kids, you clearly love your job and to get where you are at 25..... also I never have to deal with parents who want to sue my ass so. also HOW do you also manage to volunteer for a lgbtq youth group each week???? (namjoon told me)
3) we just both want some goddamn peace and quiet sometimes. don't think these days I can’t see when you’re really having fun and when you're tired and fake having fun. difference between us is tho that your whole body radiates happiness whenever you do have fun and my face just looks the same regardless of my emotions lol 

oh God wow.
you admire me????? ghriogeoh honeyyy
tf you shit talking yourself, friend. don't you know I beat up anyone who shit talks my friends? 

min fucking yoongi (friend)
oh, I know sweet cheeks
your turn

shfjwhrjwkrb lol I didn't think that deep about it but ig:
were both hot 👍🏻
were very protective of our friends
were both workaholics


min fucking yoongi (friend)
agreed on all counts
you are hotter tho



Taehyung’s new studio apartment is small but bright. Even though it's only early March, Jimin is hauling another box through the door wearing just jeans and his t-shirt, his hoodie discarded on Taehyung’s floor hours before. 

“That the last one?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin shakes his head as he places the box on the kitchen counter. “There's a couple more things in the van, Yoongi-dearest is getting them, I'll join him and we’ll bring up everything together.”

Taehyung looks up from where he's sorting cutlery into the drawer, eyebrows raised. “Yoongi-dearest? I didn't realise you two were so close.”

Jimin is happy his face is already red from the lifting. “We’re not, it's just a joke.” 

Taehyung nods thoughtfully. 

“Really, it is. We are getting along better, though.”

“That’s good, isn't it, Tae?” Jungkook says cheerfully, looking between the two of them. He's assembling some kind of Ikea cupboard. The instruction manual lies discarded on the couch behind him. 

Taehyung just hmms , and it's a hmm Jimin thinks about as the lift travels down. Why would Taehyung be any less than pleased at their burgeoning friendship? It’s good that they are getting along, isn’t it? They’re planning a Bachelor’s party to Jeju together, aren’t they? 

He leans against the wall of the lift, feeling sleepy and slightly hazy from hauling around furniture all day. He wants to go home, do some yoga to minimize the damage done to his poor muscles, take a shower and bury himself underneath his blankets. But all of his friends are here and he doesn’t want to disappoint them by slinking off as soon as the heavy work is done. 

As he steps out of the lift, he's met with Yoongi carrying a heavy-looking box in his arms. Strong, muscular arms that aren’t done any justice by the knit sweaters he usually wears. This white T-shirt, however… 

Jimin shakes off the thought quickly.

They work together to bring the last of the boxes into the lift, thank and pay the van driver, and then head up. Yoongi’s hands are still wrapped around a box as he leans forward and extends his index finger to push the right button. Long and thick, Jimin registers. And wow, he must really be deliriously tired if his brains are doing that.

As they enter the apartment, everyone is already in the living room. Seokjin and Hoseok covered in the moss green paint they used for the walls of Taehyung’s small bedroom, Namjoon cross-legged on the floor, flipping through Taehyung’s books instead of placing them in the Billy Jungkook had proudly put together earlier, and Taehyung himself still lingering in the kitchen with Jungkook.

Jimin's body feels sore and tired from lunging heavy boxes about, but he flips the switch, puts his Park Jimin, Fun Boy face on, and joins Seokjin and Hoseok where they are laughing about the way Seokjin ended up with his entire face covered in paint. He pointedly ignores Yoongi trying to catch his eye. 

“Who wants food?” Jungkook announces. “The answer is: me.”

After squabbling about the food they want, they decide on tteokbokki and naengmyeon as well as chicken (“I'm a growing boy,” Jungkook says, shrugging). Then, the next issue is, who is going to go down and get it. 

“I’ll go,” Yoongi says quickly. “Jimin-ah, you can join me, right?”

Six pairs of eyes swivel towards Yoongi. “Best man stuff,” Yoongi shrugs. Everyone seems satisfied, turning back to their own conversations, except for Taehyung, whose narrowed eyes flit between Yoongi and Jimin. 

Jimin is quick to reply, “I — yeah, sure, we had that thing to discuss.” Truth be told, he doesn’t mind thirty minutes away from this rambunctious bunch.

Yoongi just nods and pushes himself up off the floor. “Put your hoodie back on, babe,” he says. 

Taehyung’s mouth drops open. 

“It's irony,” Jimin says, feeling colour creeping up his cheeks. “Because Joon-hyung and Jin-hyung keep calling each other disgusting names.”

“Right,” Tae drawls. 

Yoongi offers Jimin his hand and pulls him to his feet. 

“Thanks, my sugarplum,” Jimin adds the ridiculous endearment for good measure. Yoongi just gives him a close lipped smile, whereas Taehyung looks as if he's just discovered the world is upside down. 

They are both quiet as the lift travels down, quiet as they walk the distance between Taehyung’s apartment building and the street that holds the restaurants. Quiet as Yoongi orders and pays. Quiet as they wait for the food to be prepared. 

It's nice. 

“You can go home if you're tired, you know,” Yoongi offers on the way back. Dusk is falling and around them. Shops and houses turn on their lights, emitting a warm glow. “They wouldn't blame you or think any less of you.”

It’s nice to walk next to Yoongi, who doesn't need him to talk all the time. Jimin changes the bag of food to his left hand, and now there is very little space left between their bodies. 

“I know,” he says. “But I want to stick around for a bit. Thank you though, hyung.”

It’s the first time that he's called Yoongi hyung , the first time he's called him something that's not meant to be derogatory or ironic. They both know it, and Yoongi glances to the side, eyes widened in surprise. 

Yoongi offers him the tiniest smile. “Just — they'll understand if you're a little tired. Sometimes I feel like you put on a mask for their sake. Pretend to be happy when you’re tired or sad.”

Jimin shrugs. “Maybe. I just… Don’t want to burden them with the way I’m feeling, you know? I know they’d support me, I really do know that. But I can manage fine by myself, I guess. I don’t want to worry them unnecessarily.” 

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says softly. “That’s unfair on them and on you. How will we know if you’re sad when you tell nobody?” 

“I tell Joon sometimes. But Joon’s so busy and whenever I see him we talk about wedding stuff and he’s so happy, I don’t want to make him worry about me because Joon’s the type to get all mother-hen and he doesn't have time for that.” 

“So you don’t tell Joon,” Yoongi concludes.

“No…” Jimin trails off. “Tae, sometimes. But he’s been so occupied with whatever it is he and Hoseok-hyung are doing, and I’m busy with work and with, well, you, that it’s hard to find the time to meet with just the two of us.” 

“You can tell me,” Yoongi says decisively. “I don’t mind what it’s about, and I’ll make time. We see each other often anyway. I mean,” he falters a little suddenly. “If-if you want to, if you’re comfortable. I don't… I don't want to pressure you. Also I don't know if I'll be any help, but… You can .” 

And Jimin suddenly wonders how he ever disliked this generous man. “Thank you, hyung. I’ll keep it in mind.” It’s not a yes, it’s not a no, but the fact that Yoongi suggested it makes him feel a little calmer. “Can I ask you something weird? Why did you dislike me?” 

The question seems to take Yoongi aback, he thinks for a moment. “I guess because you were so all over the place all the time and it all felt so fake, I couldn’t believe you were always that happy. It was overwhelming. It felt like I wasn’t seeing the real you, just some… mask, I guess. Sorry,” he adds with a sidelong look at Jimin. 

“No, don’t be sorry,” Jimin says, chuckling. “It’s fair enough. I don’t particularly like myself for that, either. As you said… I'm not exactly the best at showing my real emotions.” 

Yoongi hums. “I was jealous, too, though. You clicked so easily with Jin-hyung and Tae and Kook. People like you so much. I’m not really great with meeting new people.” Yoongi huffs, amused. 

“You’re shy,” Jimin says. “That’s not a bad thing. Bad thing is that I mistook that for you being an arrogant asshole.” 

Yoongi laughs. “Sorry.” 

“It took us five years,” Jimin agrees, laughing a little. “But we’re here now.” 


Jimin bumps his shoulder into Yoongi’s, and they continue their walk back to Taehyung’s in a silence more comfortable than any Jimin has experienced before.

Nobody notices — or if they do, they have the decency to not comment upon it — when Yoongi and Jimin squeeze together on the settee as they eat. As any dinner with the seven of them, it becomes a competition of who can be the loudest. Yoongi was right, he thinks as he regards his friends descending into chaos and madness quicker than his four-year-olds: they truly don't mind that Jimin slips into the background rather than joining in on the shouting. 

He can feel Yoongi’s thigh pressed against his. Yoongi leans even closer and whispers, “Okay. Question nineteen. What do you value most in friendship?”

He thinks of letting loose with Seokjin, of nights psychoanalysing their students with Namjoon, or terrorizing the local gym with Jungkook, and these rambunctious moments they share all together. Always pushing each other forward, holding each other up, laughter and warmth. 

But right now, what's on the forefront of his mind, is Yoongi. Yoongi who tells him it's okay to have lows to accompany his highs, too. That he doesn’t have to wear a happy mask all the time.

He smiles a little. “Balance.”



When Jimin gifts Yoongi an illustrated edition of Persuasion to match the one of Emma he already has for his birthday (“I’ve been watching all the adaptations since I got you Emma, and this one feels like you. ”), Yoongi hesitates a moment before moving across the table and wrapping Jimin in a tight hug. It leaves Jimin’s mind reeling with an emotion that's entirely foreign to him. 




April rolls around and brings pleasantly mild weather. The sun is already making its descent towards the horizon, casting the world in an orange glow. Halfway towards the subway station, Jimin unwraps his scarf from his neck and stuffs it in his messenger bag. 

He meets Yoongi in front of their usual coffee shop. Yoongi once again looks like he murdered his fellow boarding school students over a Shakespearean squabble. So: immaculate. He's holding two to-go cups, and there's a paper bag hanging from his wrist. 

Yoongi smiles tightly at him as he hands him one of the cups. “You have no idea how much I am not looking forward to this,” Yoongi tells him as they set off towards the department store. “I hate shopping.”

“What? But honey , you always look so fashionable and well-dressed,” Jimin splutters. 

One eyebrow raised, Yoongi tells him, “I don't know if you're being serious or just really mean. Knowing you, the latter.”

“I am serious, asshole,” Jimin says. “Y-you always look great.”

Yoongi lets out a sigh, as if he can't believe Jimin. “Babe, I literally look like a dad from the 1980s.”

Jimin can't really argue with that, because he does. “I promise you, it works. Anyway. We're not going to buy you dad clothes, we're buying you a sexy James Bond suit.”

Yoongi’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter. “I literally don't know why you thought it would be a good idea to shop for suits together.”

“Because,” Jimin says, waving his finger in front of Yoongi’s face, “it is our responsibility as best men to ensure both parties have matching outfits that don't clash with each other or with Jin-hyung and Joon-hyung. What I do wonder is why we thought it would be a good idea to meet on a weekday evening.”

“Whatever,” Yoongi says. He finishes the last of his coffee and finds a bin to chuck the empty cup into. “Almost forgot, but I got you some lemon cake, too. I know how cranky you can get when you're hungry. No dairy.”

“Aww, hyung, you didn't have to, but thank you,” Jimin grins as he takes the paper bag from Yoongi’s hands. Then, he rummages through his messenger bag and takes out a small Tupperware box. “Here, for you.”

Yoongi pries off the lid and eyes the stack of homemade chocolate cookies. 

“One of the mums made it,” Jimin says, then shrugs. “Dairy.”

Yoongi’s mouth quirks up, but he doesn't look at Jimin. “You've got game.”

“Fuck off and eat the cookies. You get mean when you don't eat. Also I'm not interested in any mums.”

Yoongi doesn't respond to that, just carefully pries a cookie from the stack and puts the lid back on the box. 

It's just ten minutes to the department store, a huge multi-storied building carrying the most elite designer brands. Jimin feels self-conscious in his H&M jeans when they step into the lift and even the lift attendant looks more glamorously attired than he is. 

“Are you really sure that—”

Yoongi cuts him off. “Yes, babe,” he says, exhaling a long suffering sigh. “Seokjin really gave us his credit card, and we really have no financial limit. You know how filthy rich he is.”

“I know, but—”

“You deserve a nice suit, Jimin. If Seokjin hadn't wanted to gift it to you, he wouldn't have made us the appointment.”

There's truth in that, and excitement grows within Jimin as they step out of the elevator on the top floor. The windows overlook the skyline of Seoul, and even through the foggy dusk, he can see as far as Bukhan mountain. A woman in the most elaborate suit Jimin has ever seen steps towards them, and bows. 

“We have an appointment under the name of Kim Seokjin,” Yoongi tells her. 

Her eyes grow large (and Jimin is pretty sure he can see her pupils morph into won signs), and she ushers them towards a lounge area, where a waitress immediately steps forward with a cold bottle of champagne and two glasses. 

Jimin means towards Yoongi. “Exactly how filthy rich is Jin-hyung?”

Yoongi replies with a grin. 

Then the consultant comes to whisk Jimin off his feet. “I think I have just the suit for you, sir, if you'd come with me?”

He makes a panicked expression at Yoongi, who just laughs and leans back on the leather sofa, champagne flute half-full in his hand. 

In the dressing room, the consultant works her magic with the speed of a fairy godmother, and before too long he finds himself transformed. As he looks in the mirror, he knows it's not it : the navy colour is slightly off and he doesn't think the pinstripes will fit with the theme of the wedding, but he likes the way the cut of the jacket hugs his biceps snugly. 

He steps out of the dressing room. Yoongi looks at him, eyes appraising as they run down the length of Jimin's body. His mouth doesn't drop open. He doesn't let out some kind of whimper. His eyes don't grow larger. 

Jimin feels — disappointed? 

“Well?” He asks, twirling around for good measure. 

Yoongi gives his signature hmm before standing up and moving into Jimin's space. “It's too tight here,” his eyes flit to Jimin's, asking for permission, before placing his hands on Jimin's upper arms. Then his hands slide down over his chest, making a shiver run down Jimin's spine as Yoongi’s truly abnormally gigantic hands come to rest at the small of Jimin's waist. “And not tight enough here.”

“I—” Jimin lets out. 

“Something to emphasize the waist, then,” their consultant concludes. 

Yoongi nods, hands still lingering on Jimin's waist. “And lose the pinstripes.”

He abruptly drops his hands to his side and Jimin feels the loss of them acutely. He feels confused, doesn't quite follow what's happening inside his brain. He drops onto the chair in the dressing room while the consultant is out finding a new suit for him to try, and tries to make sense of his thoughts. He doesn't know why he wants Yoongi to approve of the way he looks so much. 

“Your boyfriend suggested this one,” the consultant tells him, closing the door behind her as she holds up a beautiful deep charcoal suit. 

It takes his brain a second too long to catch up. “Oh, oh, you mean Yoongi . He's not my boyfriend.”

The consultant’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh,” she muses. “I see.”

As Jimin slides into the suit, it already feels like it's made for him. He thinks there would hardly have to be any adjustments made to the fit. 

He looks good. 

He feels good. 

He wants Yoongi to see him. 

He steps out of the dressing room and this time, Yoongi’s mouth does drop open. His hand, holding a glass of champagne, stills mid-air. He emits a soft “Oh.”

“Does it look good, hyung?” Yoongi’s eyes on him make him feel inexplicably nervous. 

“I— you look incredible, Jimin-ah.” He lets out. He asks Jimin to twirl around once or twice, and when Jimin obliges, he says, “Christ, don't let any of your students’ parents see your ass in those slacks.”

Jimin doesn't really know how to respond to that, but he feels heat rising in his cheeks. It shouldn’t have this effect on him. Taehyung calls him hot all the time. It shouldn’t feel any different, but it does.

“I'll want one that fits with Jimin's,” Yoongi tells the consultant after throwing back the rest of his champagne. There’s an air of finality to his voice, which is… kind of hot? What?

Jimin, still in his suit, sits down carefully on the leather couch where Yoongi had been sitting. He runs his hands over the fabric covering his thigh. It’s finely woven, delicately stitched, and Jimin thinks it might be an entire month’s salary for the trousers alone. 

The trousers in which his ass looks great, he thinks. 

“Of course.” The assistant offers Yoongi a bright smile as she pushes at an imaginary stray strand of hair. “You have a good frame for suits, sir,” Jimin hears her tell him as the both of them disappear towards the dressing room. 

The waitress pours him some champagne, and he nervously drinks down the flute in one go and stands up from the sofa. Wordlessly, the waitress refills it. Seokjin must be really fucking rich, he muses, because the champagne looks and tastes like liquid gold. All around him are rows upon endless rows of suits in colours and textures that Jimin didn’t know existed. He sips his champagne as he lets his fingers grow acquainted with the fabrics. 

He knows there’s a reason for this weird, nervous tingle he feels underneath his skin. He just isn’t so sure he wants to name it yet. 

“Jimin,” he hears Yoongi’s voice, and he swivels around. 

“You look —”

“Like a monkey in a suit,” Yoongi wrinkles his nose. 

Jimin can’t help but bark out a laugh, for which he receives a stern look from the consultant. “It is a little much, yeah,” he agrees, and steps closer. 

“I assure you, Mr Min has just the charisma to pull it off,” the consultant says, her hand delicately splayed on Yoongi’s bicep. “The cravat emphasises the broadness of your shoulders.” 

With a snort, Jimin realises she’s trying to flirt with Yoongi. Yoongi catches his eye and gives him a tight-lipped smile.

Jimin moves towards Yoongi and takes his hand, pulling him with him towards the mirror. Yoongi squeezes his hand. “Maybe if we try it without the cravat?” He moves Yoongi around so they’re facing each other, and Jimin starts prying off the piece of fabric that’s wrapped tightly around Yoongi’s neck. “I mean, you can overdo the dark academia aesthetic,” Jimin grins. 

“The dark what now?”

“You know, the sexy murdering, dark British libraries, cable knit sweaters, reading Homer in the original Greek?”

Yoongi meets his eye, one eyebrow lightly raised. “I literally don't know what you mean, but I feel like you just called me sexy?”

Jimin bites his cheek and stays silent as Yoongi’s face is set in a confused frown. His fingers carefully unwrap the tight cravat to reveal Yoongi’s neck. 

Jimin steps back and admires his handiwork. “Much better. Still a no. Listen, I found one here earlier. Try it on.”

“Oh, but that probably won't suit Mr Min,” the consultant says as she takes the suit — a grey so dark it's almost black — from his hands. 

“I trust Mr Park,” Yoongi shrugs, and bows for her to lead the way back. He glances over his shoulder, and says, just loud enough so the consultant can overhear, “Thanks, honey pie.”

Jimin falls back onto the sofa with a snort and wiles away the minutes it takes for Yoongi to be transformed with another glass of the liquid gold. He doesn't know whether that's the thing responsible for the funny tingling in his tummy, or whether he just hasn't had enough food. 

Thrumming his fingers on his thigh, Jimin lets his head fall back onto the back of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe he should take Yoongi out to dinner after this. That would be nice. They could treat themselves to something fancy with Seokjins’ credit card and exchange more silly nicknames and talk about the questions some more. 

The consultant’s heels click into the main hall, and Jimin sits up straight and— 

—-  well.

Yoongi looks hot . The colour and light sheen of the fabric complement his skin tone so perfectly that it looks made for him, and the cut of the jacket emphasises Yoongi’s slender frame. And don’t get him started on the slacks, snug around Yoongi’s thighs.  And then there’s the slight smirk on Yoongi’s face. He looks hot, and, moreover, he knows it. 

He jumps up, gives his head a little shake as if to shake off the weird thoughts gaining prominence in his imagination, and joins Yoongi at the mirror. “You look amazing, hyung,” he says, “I think this is the suit.” 

He looks at both their reflections. Yoongi’s suit is darker than his, a complementing shade. They’re the same height but he notices the way Yoongi’s shoulders are broader than his, waist less pronounced than Jimin’s, complementing each other, too. 

Yoongi smiles at him in the mirror. It lights up his face, Jimin thinks. “I think so too. I’d love to see it with a tie, too,” Yoongi says, less so to the consultant than to Jimin, but she leads them across the store to the biggest selection of ties Jimin has ever seen, all colours of the rainbow represented. 

Jimin’s eyes are instantly drawn to two shimmery ties in matching purple shades, one more lilac, the other on the darker end of the spectrum. They would suit the colour scheme of the wedding perfectly. “Those,” he tells Yoongi. 

The consultant wrinkles her nose as if to protest, but takes out the ties and hands them to Jimin. He gives the lighter shade to Yoongi, and wraps the darker one deftly around his neck. 

He looks expectantly at Yoongi, who takes his time tying the tie around his neck. Jimin’s fingers somehow itch to step closer, wrap his hands around the silk on Yoongi’s neck and swiftly tie it into a knot. But he doesn’t, and Yoongi manages by himself in the end. 

He's not sure where the impulse came from. 

Jimin feels ever so slightly lightheaded as they survey themselves in the large mirror again. They look handsome, so incredibly good. There’s a glow in Yoongi’s eyes that he doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. He doesn’t think he ever realised before that Yoongi is quite beautiful.

Jimin whips out his phone, pulls Yoongi closer to his side and takes a picture of the both of them, smiling at each other’s reflection. Yoongi wraps a hand around Jimin’s waist and leans his head against Jimin’s, just a little. He takes another picture.

He feels lightheaded as they let the consultant and her assistant take their measurements, lightheaded as he slips out of the suit, feeling an immediate sense of loss as he steps back into his own clothing, lightheaded as they are taken to the desk where the consultant discusses prices, adjustments, fittings and delivery dates. So lightheaded that he doesn’t register any surprise as she names a quote, and he doesn’t register Yoongi drawing Seokjin’s credit card. 

It’s not until they’re standing in the lift, alone except for the quiet lift attendant standing in the corner that Yoongi leans in and whispers. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Jimin whispers after a second’s thought. “Just a bit overwhelmed.” 

“It was a lot, wasn’t it? And that woman…” Yoongi trails off, his eyebrows dramatically raised as he puffs out his cheeks. 

Jimin snorts, glad that Yoongi’s trying to make him laugh. “You always say I have game, but you clearly underestimate your own power, babe.”

Yoongi stiffens slightly at his side. “Where were we with the questions?” He asks as they step out of the lift onto the ground floor of the department store, marble all around them. 

“Oh,” Jimin says, whipping out his phone. “Twenty-two. ‘Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five times.’” He quotes. 

“You look good in a suit,” Yoongi says immediately as they step into the chaos of the shopping public, weaving their way through the accessories and beauty counters. 

“That’s about my looks , that’s not a characteristic,” Jimin tells him. 

“I’m complimenting you, aren’t I?” He grins in his ear. “Fine, you are a good friend.” 

Jimin pauses and eyes the Chanel make-up on display. “Thank you,” he says. “You too.” 

“You can’t just recycle the things I say about you, you dummy,” Yoongi says — there’s something in his voice, something sweet, laughter, but affectionate. “See anything you like?” 

“Hmm,” he answers as he tests a mauve lipstick on the back of his hand. 

“That would look good on you,” Yoongi says. 

Jimin can feel his cheeks rise. “You think so?” 

Yoongi just nods. “Anything else you like?” 

There’s a particularly pretty eyeshadow palette with deep shimmery purple and warm oranges. It would look so beautiful with the suit he just bought. He shyly points it out to Yoongi, who hums. Before Jimin can stop him, Yoongi calls over one of the beauty consultants, and tells him they’ll take both the lipstick and the palette. 

Hyung ,” Jimin whines, “we can’t use Seokjin’s credit card, and I can’t afford it.” 

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Seokjin literally made me promise not to return this before I had maxed out the day’s limit, so—” 

Jimin relents, sees there’s no fight worth fighting here, and, a moment later, takes the shiny black bag from the cashier. 

“You’re generous,” Jimin tells Yoongi. They’ve slowed considerably as they make their way to the exit, lingering to look at a watch or a bracelet or a fancy bag.

Yoongi snorts in reply. “With Seokjin’s money, yeah.”

“I’m serious, Yoongi, you are. Not just with this — I mean, you could easily just have walked past the Chanel counter, but you did that for me. And also earlier today, you bought me coffee and food. I… I like that about you. It’s nice.” 

“Oh,” Yoongi replies. They set off again, silent for a while before Yoongi says, “You’re funny. You make me laugh.” 

“Aw, thanks, sugar tits.” 

At that, Yoongi just laughs, low and rumbling, from somewhere deep in his chest. 

“You’re calm,” Jimin tells him. 

“I’m literally the most anxious human being I know,” Yoongi turns to look at him. 

“I know, but I feel calmer when I’m with you. I like that you don’t expect me to put up some mask whenever I’m feeling low.” He looks down at his fingers, wrapped tightly around the handle of his Chanel bag. 

“Okay,” Yoongi says, barely audible. “You’re a good storyteller.”

“I like your dark humour.” 

The large glass exit doors come into view and before they know it, they’re standing on the sideway outside. It’s fully dark now, and the streets are bustling with taxi’s, delivery drivers, and men in smart suits and suitcases marching down the sideways. 

“I— eh, we were supposed to do five each but I lost count. Do you… do you want to maybe get dinner together? To max out Seokjin’s credit card, I mean?” 

Yoongi’s face clouds over, eyes flitting to the watch at his wrist, then back at Jimin. “Oh… Jimin, I—”

“Never mind, it’s okay,” Jimin forces a smile despite the weird rolling in his stomach. He doesn’t know what’s happening, really. 

“I want to. Go out to dinner with you. Er, to max out Seokjin’s credit card, as you say… But I still have thirty essays to grade tonight.”

Jimin nods slowly. He didn’t know what he was thinking by suggesting it, really. “I get it,” he tells him, tone nonchalant. “I actually have some fingerpaint artwork to critique.” 

The barest hint of a smile appears on Yoongi’s face. He seems to decide not to take up Jimin’s joke. “Okay. Well, I’ll see you around? Don’t forget to eat, okay?” 

And then he’s gone, lost in the sea of office workers returning home after dusk, and Jimin pretends for a long while he can see the back of Yoongi’s head still. 

He walks home instead of taking the subway. It takes him thirty minutes and it’s cold, but at least it will give him the chance to make sense of whatever the hell is going on inside his brains. 

There are a few things Jimin knows: 

  1. He likes the way Yoongi’s ass looked in that suit.
  2. He likes that Yoongi liked the way Jimin’s ass looked in that suit.
  3. In fact, the idea of Yoongi even looking at his ass, let alone passing judgement on it, sets another rolling motion in his stomach going. 
  4. He also knows something else, thinks he knows — no, knows he knows. But — no. It can’t be. So no, he doesn’t actually know that. Scratch all that. There’s nothing Jimin knows in the bottom of his heart, in the rolling of his tummy, in the electricity running beneath his skin whenever Yo— Jimin knows nothing.

And so, confident in his knowledge that there simply isn’t anything to know, he walks home, huddled close in his coat, the Chanel bag dangling from his wrist. He stops by a restaurant and orders himself tteokbokki to take home, and, on a whim, he orders a second portion to be delivered to Yoongi’s apartment because he knows Yoongi forgets to eat whenever he’s concentrating. 

While eating his food, sitting cross-legged on his sofa, he catches up with a couple of shows and scrolls down his phone long after he finishes the tteokbokki . He takes comfort in ignoring the knowledge he definitely does not have. 

It’s not until the thank you 😚 appears on his phone screen that his resolve crumbles.

He throws the phone on his bed and drops down beside it.

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

He has feelings for Min fucking Yoongi.




“Tae,” Jimin says a week or so later, wrapping his fingers around his coffee mug and staring at the heart drawn inside the foam. “I need to tell you something.” 

Taehyung sits across from him, leaned back in his chair, one leg casually thrown over the other. “You like Yoongi hyung.” He takes a sip of his mint tea.

“I—” ( What the fuck? ) “Yes.” He decides he might as well come clean immediately, remembering what Yoongi had told him about being more honest with his friends. “How did you know?”

“Jimin, please,” Taehyung says, throwing him an unimpressed look. “I've known you for five years, and Yoongi hyung for almost eight. Give me some credit.”

Oh. “I didn't think I was being that obvious.”

Taehyung just grins. “Let me think. You call him by disgusting nicknames. Yeah, I kno w, they're ironic,” he is quick to say as Jimin is about to protest, lifting up two fingers to make air quotes. “You're always bickering and fighting with him. You're always together for some reason, too. And don't tell me that's because of the wedding, because you and I both know that you could organise stuff through emails and phone calls just as easily. Want me to continue?”

Jimin bites his lip and shakes his head. “Do you think I should tell him?”

Taehyung holds up a hand. “Wait a second, Chim. Please rewind this a bit because by all accounts you hated his guts three months ago.”

“I just thought he was a rude asshole, and now I don't anymore.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, but there is a huge jump from thinking someone isn't a rude asshole to being in love with that person.”

Jimin shrugs. “He’s nice.”

“He's very nice,” Taehyung agrees. “And?”

“He's calm. And funny and so kind to me. And honestly, he's really hot,” he adds, burying his face in his hands to disguise the heat spreading through his cheeks. 

Taehyung giggles at that. “Gosh, Chim, you do like him. Disgusting.”

“I know, right. I don't know how it happened either.” 

There's a smile on Taehyung’s face as he puts down his mug of tea. 

“I don't know what to do about it, though.”

“Do you think he feels the same?”

And that's the million won question, isn't it? Over the past week, he has analyzed all of their interactions, all of the texts Yoongi had sent him, and he had come to the conclusion that maybe Yoongi liked him back, but that Yoongi also maybe did not like him. Fifty-fifty. He remembers the way Yoongi’s hands were on his waist, but he also remembers the way Yoongi more or less told him he was too loud and annoying.

He tells this to Taehyung, who nods thoughtfully. “What do you want from Yoongi?”

“I — what?”

“It’s a serious question, Chim. I may be your friend, but I'm also Yoongi’s, and I don't want either of you to get hurt. Especially with the hyungs’ wedding coming up… You're gonna have to think about what you want from Yoongi,” his hand dances through the air as he talks. “Do you want just sex? Do you want a relationship? Do you want to be just friends? Do you want to get married and have lots of sex and babies?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Okay, Alan Rickman,” he says, but the question takes him a little aback. What does he want from Yoongi? He knows he is very much attracted to the older man and he likes him a lot, but he has spent more time ruminating on whether Yoongi reciprocates those feelings, than thinking about what he actually wants to do if that's the case. So, truthfully, he admits, “I don't know.”

Taehyung regards him. “Then maybe you should think about that a little more before you do anything. It'll also give you the opportunity to study Yoongi a little. I love you Chim, but you'll have to be careful. The wedding…”

Jimin nods. He knows his friend is right. He can't let feelings that he hasn't even examined properly yet jeopardize his best friends’ wedding. It's only a couple of weeks more. It will be good to take some time to think things over. Then, if there’s anything to tell, he’ll tell him. After the wedding.

“I won't rush things, I'll be careful,” he tells Taehyung. “Thank you, Tae.” he leans forward on the table, eager to change the subject now that his head is a little clearer. “Now speaking on having a crush on your friends… What is going on between you and Hoseok-hyung?”

Taehyung’s eyes grow large. 



It is not intentional, and not at all something he wants, but Jimin can almost physically feel himself take a step back from Yoongi. 

They still meet every two weeks and text regularly — the bachelor's trip to Jeju is already very soon and there is a lot that needs to be planned, from flights and hotels to parties and treasure hunts at the beach. Sadly no strippers though, because Yoongi still hasn't given in an inch. 

But there's a difference, minimal but there , and he knows that Yoongi has noticed it too. Jimin is quieter, a little less eager to draw Yoongi out of his shell and argue with him about, say, the benefits of the presence of strippers during one’s bachelor party. They still have fun, but he doesn't make their meetings linger longer than strictly necessary, like he used to before, when he was always finding excuses to chat more and order another round of drinks. 

He finds Yoongi easier to read these days: he can see the confusion written across his face when Jimin declines meeting over tteokbokki and soju, saying he prefers to just go for a quick coffee, vaguely mumbling something about having to call some parents.

Yoongi really deserves an explanation, but he keeps thinking of Taehyung’s words. Namjoon and Seokjin’s wedding is drawing so close, and if he were to confess his feelings to Yoongi right now, and he were somehow to fuck everything up, all of their friends would be bound to suffer from it. It would be awkward and ugly and Seokjin and Namjoon would be stuck with a friend group split in two. All because he wants Yoongi. 

So he’ll keep it to himself for now, and he’ll think about what he wants from Yoongi. 

May is never the easiest month and it progresses in accordance with his expectations; Jimin finds himself spending longer and longer at work, because the end of the school year is coming up, and with that, endless meetings on individual kids and whether they have the capacity to pass on to the next grade. Endless meetings with his colleagues, endless meetings with parents who claim that their child is the next Van Gogh or Mozart or groundbreaking heart surgeon, and that they should not only pass to the next grade, but even skip one altogether. 

The parents are his least favourite part about teaching, the way they presume to know how education works just because they have a child that goes to school. Some have the tendency to mistrust his judgement, because they see a man fifteen or twenty years their junior, with only three years of experience behind his belt. After one particularly rough meeting where a parent calmly told him they would be contacting Jimin’s boss about the imminent termination of his contract, Jimin surprises himself by texting Namjoon about it on the way home. 

When he arrives home, Namjoon is standing in front of his door holding a bag of snacks and soju, a worried expression lacing his brow.

“I don’t think they’ll actually get me fired,” he sniffles into Namjoon’s shoulder half an hour later, curled up on Jimin’s sofa together, “I just—”

“It makes you sad,” Namjoon says calmly, carding his fingers slowly through Jimin’s hair. Jimin nods and bites back a sob. “That’s okay, you know. It's not a nice thing to hear. You can be sad. You are allowed to, Jiminie. I'm so proud of you for reaching out.” 

And when Namjoon leaves hours later, after quietly collecting their empty soju bottles and crisp packets, after pressing a kiss to the top of Jimin’s head, there are two things Jimin feels: the first being relief. Sharing his sadness with Namjoon hasn’t taken it away, but it holds less power over him, and it slowly makes way for calmth. The second thing he feels is that Yoongi was right: Namjoon wanted him to share his sadness with him and he wanted to be there for Jimin. 

It’s something he knew objectively, but never let himself put into practice. It feels new. It feels nice. 

Yoongi. Yeah. Yoongi. Throughout the month, Yoongi is at the forefront of his mind. Every time they meet Jimin almost forgets his resolve to keep a little distance between them, because Jimin suddenly finds him falling hard and falling fast. It’s as if admitting to liking Yoongi has catapulted him straight into loving Yoongi territory, and it scares him.

He’s falling when Yoongi sends him a selca of himself with the May spread of the stripper calendar, featuring a shirtless highlander in a red kilt shearing a sheep. 

He’s falling when Yoongi doesn’t ask questions, just lets Jimin be more quiet than usual, and waits for him at the cafe, almond cappuccino with vanilla already ordered regardless, and even initiates a joke about strippers. 

He’s falling when they all meet at Taehyung’s for a movie night and they watch You’ve Got Mail after Yoongi suggests it. He’s falling when Yoongi makes snarky jokes about Namjoon and Seokjin disappearing into Taehyung’s bathroom halfway through the movie, and makes an even snarkier joke when a little later Taehyung and Hoseok disappear into Tae’s bedroom. He’s falling when they share the couch while watching the movie, and somehow end up pressed close together, even when there is plenty of space now that everyone except Jungkook and the two of them is getting laid. 

He’s drawn to Yoongi, and it’s not just physical. Well. It was physical; Jimin really isn’t above admitting he had always thought Yoongi abnormally attractive, even when they still hated the sight of each other. It was always physical. But somehow, somewhere down the line, that changed. 

It’s definitely more.

( Fuck. )

He finds himself wondering sometimes, what would it be like to kiss Yoongi? To, in the midst of one of their arguments, step closer and shut Yoongi up by putting his lips on Yoongi’s? What would it feel like to hold hands with Yoongi? Would Yoongi’ hands be soft? Would he absent-mindedly drag his thumb across the back of Jimin's hand? What would it feel like to come home after a rough day and crawl into bed with Yoongi? He thinks it would probably feel nice.

( Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. )

After the wedding, he’ll tell him that.



Two weeks later everyone except for the grooms meet at the department store for the final fitting of their suits. It’s their group and a couple of Seokjin and Namjoon’s colleagues he doesn’t know too well, and Yoongi is there too, lounging in that leather chair and chatting to one of the Professors. When he notices Jimin and Hoseok stepping out of the lift, he falls quiet and regards him for a second. He licks his lips thoughtfully, then returns his gaze to the man next to him. He looks so handsome. Jimin wants to turn around and make the lift travel down again.

“Is something wrong?” Hoseok asks Jimin, putting a hand on his arm to stop him before he can join the group.

“Wrong?” Jimin laughs a little wildly. It’s just that he’s gone and fallen in love with the man he had sworn to loathe for all eternity. “Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think that?”

His friend gives him a look. “When you feel ready to talk to me about him, you can. Okay?” 

Jimin lets out a shuddering breath. “Okay,” he whispers.

Hoseok ruffles his hair affectionately and they join the rest of the group, which soon descends into a polite version of their usual chaos. There’s a seat free next to Yoongi, but Jimin clings to Hoseok’s arm and drops down into his friend’s lap instead while they wait for the consultant and her assistants to sort out the suits. 

His heart nearly breaks when he looks at Yoongi, and he sees that his face is carefully blank, impassive, disinterested . He knows this is what Yoongi looks like when he feels uncomfortable, because this is what Yoongi looked like when he was around him all the time before . He doesn’t want Yoongi to look like that, he doesn’t want Yoongi to be uncomfortable. He wants to talk to Yoongi and make him smile again, like the last time they were here together.

After the wedding, after the wedding, after the wedding, he chants in his head. 

Taehyung sits down in the seat next to Yoongi instead, and Jimin looks away. He takes a flute of champagne from an attending waiter and downs it quickly.

“Easy there, Jiminie,” Hoseok says gently, when he immediately asks a waiter to refill the glass. 

When he looks at Taehyung and Yoongi again, Taehyung is whispering something in Yoongi’s ear, his hand splayed on Yoongi’s bicep as he leans in. 

The consultant walks in and asks for the best men to join her for their fitting. Hoseok squeezes his thigh encouragingly before he stands up. He catches Yoongi’s eye.

He hates this.

They walk quietly to the fitting room area, and step into their respective cubicles to slip into their suits. When Jimin opens his door to step out, Yoongi is already waiting. 

Jimin wants to cry. Yoongi looks so beautiful but so sad. “You look…” he trails off.

Yoongi steps a little closer, too close, and fingers the lapel of Jimin’s suit jacket. He doesn’t meet his eyes, just looks at the way his thumb rubs across the fabric.  “Are you okay, Jiminie?” 

They were becoming friends, they were helping each other grow, their whole group was becoming better for it, and then Jimin had to ruin it by starting to feel things for him. Things were going so well. Now, Yoongi looks sad, and he’s worried for him. 

Nodding, he closes his eyes and on a whim, he puts his hand over Yoongi’s, making both their hands rest over his heart, which is beating faster and faster and faster. 

“You look so beautiful,” he says.

Yoongi steps a little closer still. God, how easy would it be to just lean in and kiss Yoongi? 

After the wedding. 

But he wants to, though, and a small part of him thinks that Yoongi might want him to, too. He opens his eyes and stares into Yoongi’s.


He doesn’t know how, but suddenly they’re another inch closer, and Jimin can feel Yoongi’s warm breath on his cheek. 

“Yoongi, there’s something I —”

The consultant steps into the fitting room area. “Gentlemen, my assistant would like to take you through to the final measurements check,” she announces, and their moment — whatever the flying fuck that moment was — is broken. They step away from each other, Yoongi clearing his throat and adjusting his tie.

Later, Jimin sits down next to Hoseok, and together they watch everyone strutting about the room in their suits. It's fun and nice and the alcohol is certainly doing its work, but Jimin just buries himself in Hoseok’s side and pointedly doesn't look at Yoongi.

“I think I'm in love with him,” he whispers when the entire group is screaming over Jungkook bridal style carrying Taehyung through the store, and nobody, not even Yoongi, has eyes for the two of them. 

“I figured,” Hoseok says calmly. He wraps an arm around his friend's shoulder. “For what it's worth, hyung can't keep his eyes off you. Do with that what you will, but he literally looks at you like he thinks the sun shines out of your beautiful ass.”

Jimin pulls back from him. “Really?” He feels that rolling feeling in his stomach again. His eyes flick over to Yoongi and sure enough, Yoongi is looking at the two of them. 

“Yep,” Hoseok says. 

“Taehyung said I should steer clear of him until I was sure what I wanted.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows shoot up. “That's rich, coming from him. But - do you know what you want?”

Jimin gives a little nod.

“So what's stopping you?”

He tells Hoseok about his plan to wait until after the wedding, so that if Yoongi doesn't like him, things won't be awkward for Namjoon and Jin and the rest of their group. 

Hoseok squeezes his arm. “You think about what others want too much, Minnie. Think about what you want.”

Sometime later, when everyone has been for their fitting and people are gathering their bags and coats, Hoseok approaches him and wraps an arm around his shoulders, whispering in his ear, “Jiminie, would you mind terribly if I leave with Tae?”

Jimin won't pretend he hasn't seen the two men sneak glances at one another throughout the day, so he just ruffles his friend’s hair and tells him to be careful. 

But then suddenly he finds everyone is leaving, Hoseok and Taehyung included, and he and Yoongi are the last ones in the shop. His heart starts beating a little faster. He has taken care to steer clear from Yoongi today, for fear of blurting out an I am in love with you, to be honest, and he isn't sure whether the thought of being alone with Yoongi frightens or excites him. 

They step into the lift, both quiet until —

“Jimin—”, “Yoongi—”

Jimin swallows. “You go first, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi tells him. He clears his throat. “I was… I was just wondering, at which question did we leave off?”

“Question?” It takes him a second to gather Yoongi’s meaning. He almost laughs at himself: here he is, on the verge of confessing he's in love with him, when Yoongi just wants to continue their silly game. He whips out his phone and reads, “Question 25: Make three true ‘we’ statements each. For instance, ‘We are both in this room feeling …’”

“Oh,” is all Yoongi replies, and silence reigns again.

The lift reaches the ground floor, but neither of them move until the lift attendant gently repeats that they've reached their destination. 

It's not as busy at this late hour, so they quickly make their way through the beauty department. and before Jimin can even catch a glimpse of the Chanel counter, they are already outside on the sidewalk. 

The weather has been growing warmer lately, and the days are longer. Yoongi looks beautiful in the waning sunlight, the warm breeze gently playing through his hair. Jimin has to fight back the urge to take a step closer and run his hands through it. 

He stops and stands still. 

“We are — we are both, um, standing outside this department store, aware that something is happening. Between us.” Yoongi says, fists balled at his side. He doesn't look at Jimin. “Am I right?”


“I don't know what it is, but something is happening.” He unclenches one fist and waves it between the two of them. 


“I don't know about you, but I am scared shitless, Jimin. Second statement, I guess.”

(Jimin thinks: I like you. I think about how it would feel to hold your hand. I want to bring you coffee while you grade boring papers. I want you to laugh when I tell you funny things the kids at work said. I think about how it would feel to hold you in my arms, and be held by you in return. I think it would feel safe. I think about kissing you, wondering how your lips would feel against mine. I don't know how this happened, I don't. I hated you so much, but I think I may never have hated you at all. Not really. I'm so scared. )


Yoongi laughs at that, drags his hand across his face. “Can you say anything other than ‘yes’? I'm freaking out.”

“I— We are both scared shitless, hyung. ‘M sorry. I'm very much freaking out, too.”

Yoongi lets out a shuddering breath at that. “Good. Well,” he adds, “not good, obviously, but—”

“I know what you mean,” Jimin tells him, willing his erratic heartbeat to slow down. He wishes Yoongi would look at him. “It's okay.”

“So, uh. Third statement?”

Jimin swallows and sticks his hands in his jeans pockets. “We are both worried that if anything happens between us, we might jeopardize Jin-hyung and Joon-hyung’s relationship?”

At that, finally — finally — Yoongi turns to look at him. His expression is soft, eyebrows drawn together. “Really, Jimin?” he asks in a soft incredulous voice that has the tight elastic band wrapped around Jimin's heart tighten even further. “Is that what you worry about?”

Jimin presses his lips into a thin line, looks at his feet. The warmth in Yoongi’s eyes is too much. “Yes.”

“Oh, Jimin,” Yoongi sighs. Hesitantly, he steps closer, into Jimin's space. “You don't have to worry about what others think of us.”


“But I do,” Jimin replies. 

“I know. That's why I—” Yoongi seems to think the better of whatever he's going to say, shuts his mouth firmly and looks away from Jimin. 

That's why you what?, Jimin wants to ask . Like me? Hate me? Love me? Can't under any circumstances be with me? 

“I'm scared you don't like me as much as I like you,” Yoongi admits softly. 

“Hyung,” Jimin whines, “how can you not know how much I like you?”

A soft chuckle draws Jimin’s eyes up. Yoongi is looking at him, disbelief written all across his face. “Really, I do. Like you. So much, Yoongi.”

“You don't have to worry about Jin and Joon,” Yoongi says. “But I understand that you do. Maybe, if you still feel the way you do in a couple of weeks… I could take you out for dinner?”

Jimin thinks he will probably feel the same in a year’s time. In ten years’ time, too. 

“I— would like that, I think.”

Yoongi smiles. “Good. It's a…”

“...a date,” Jimin supplies. 

“After the wedding.”




would you like to go for coffee this afternoon? NOT a date but…
i feel there might be some wedding stuff we should talk about?

yes please 🥰
not a date that would be against the agreement tho!!!!! 

same place same time? 

ill see u there sugar boo 

okay sweet cheeks




[photo attached] 
lmaoooo honey look at this

babe what even am I looking at? 

it's me covered in a bucket of yellow paint, courtesy of little sunmi

sunmi knows art when she sees it

aw hyung

much as I like yellow on you, I don't think you can get on the subway like that 
need me to come pick you up? 

would you?????? 👉🏻👈🏻

just send me the address
it's not a date tho!!!! 

obviously not!! 
if you wait for me while I shower I can take you out for tteokbokki after? 
just as a FRIENDLY thank you? 

I'd love that 




[photo attached] 
help I came out with s&n to the florist’s but they won't stop kissing????? 

god they are disGUSTING 
….ly adorable 

agree to disagree? 
you don't have to actually witness them exchanging saliva rn

imagine what they're gonna be like once theyre actually married 
need me to come save you? I can be there in 20

i’ll buy you flowers as a thank you
non-dating flowers






what’s your seat number for the flight tomorrow?


ok thank u <3




Jeju is a dream. 

It’s only a short flight, during which Jimin uses the early hour as an excuse to drop his head on Yoongi’s shoulder (next to whom he’s seated because he had spent an hour convincing Jungkook to swap seats with him “because of wedding organisation stuff”). It’s nice and quiet, the others sitting a few rows in front of them, and he pretends to be fast asleep when Yoongi tentatively covers Jimin’s hand with his own, ignoring the way that Yoongi’s touch seems to set off an erratic tune in his heart.

There’s something unhurried about Jeju, where the air is warm and clean and bright. It is all that Seoul is not, and Jimin falls immediately in love with the island. What’s not to love about being here? It’s the first time for their combined groups to spend some time away together, and even though it’s technically in honour of Seokjin and Namjoon, it feels as much as a celebration of their friend group, as it is a celebration of their hyungs’ upcoming wedding. 

They spend the first day lounging, settling into their respective hotel rooms. Jimin shares his with Hoseok, who gently pats his head when Jimin falls onto the king size bed, and tells him to take a nap. He dreams about painting the sunset and when he wakes up after an hour or so, he decides to take his sketchbook and head out to the beach. It’s still early, hours yet before their dinner reservation in the sprawling rooftop restaurant.

As he walks through the hallway, a warm tingle starts spreading through his stomach as a familiar face comes into view.

“Hey, you,” Yoongi says. As soon as he looks at Jimin, a soft smile appears on his face, and he reaches out to swipe his thumb across Jimin’s cheek, still stained pink from his nap earlier.

If anything, Jimin can feel his cheeks getting redder. He sees Yoongi glance at the sketchbook in his hands, and, on a whim, asks, “I’m heading out to the beach to paint a bit. You wanna join me?” 

Yoongi’s lips part in surprise. “I-- yeah, I’d love that. Would you mind if I brought a book?” 

And so Jimin finds himself sitting cross-legged on a lounge chair on the hotel’s private beach a little later, with none other than Min fucking Yoongi (disinterested emoji), who he's in love with of all people, reclining next to him. The sun is warm, casting a golden glow over his hands as Jimin unpacks his portable gouache set. 

Yoongi’s not reading his book, observing him instead. “I’ve never seen you paint.” 

“You had to settle for me covered in paint instead,” Jimin quips. 

“Not a bad sight, either,” Yoongi laughs. 

Jimin swats Yoongi’s arm with his paint brush. “Stop flirting with me, or else I’ll start thinking of this as a date.” 

“You’re right.” Yoongi lets out a low chuckle. “That would be terrible.” 

At that, Jimin hums. “It would.”

Yoongi settles against the back of the chair with his book, and Jimin starts working on his painting. It’s been ages since he had the time to actually sit down and paint something, but his fingers work without needing much instruction and soft blues and greens start finding their shapes on the paper. Yoongi next to him is quiet, lost in his book. It’s nice, Jimin thinks. He loves talking to Yoongi, but, even more, he loves that Yoongi never expects him to talk.

“Babe,” Yoongi says after a while. Jimin looks to the side to see Yoongi proffering a bottle of sunscreen. The sun’s warmth on his skin is incomparable to the warmth he feels spreading through his stomach. He wants to kiss Yoongi so badly. 

After Jimin slathers a generous amount of SPF on his face, he returns to his painting. His rendition of the beach and the sea is done. It’s not perfect by far, but perfection isn’t what he is aiming for. He turns the page and shifts in his seat, finding a perfect view to capture. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Yoongi says without looking up from his book.

Jimin just hums as the line of Yoongi’s shoulders starts taking shape on the paper beneath him. “Sit still, please?”

Jimin-ah , you know I don’t like getting my picture taken,” he whines, no real accusation behind the word.

“This isn’t a picture, it’s a painting,” Jimin corrects him. “And it’s a masterpiece of a beautiful, gorgeous, sexy man.” 

“You disgust me,” Yoongi says. 

“You disgust me too.”




The Michelin-star dinner does not disappoint. Jimin nearly cries into his second course and has to wash down his feelings with a glass of excellent wine. Sated and happy, they all move to the underground bar, where several other groups are already livening the atmosphere. The music booms loud around them.

Jimin runs up to Seokjin, drapes a baby blue sash reading Groom To Be around his shoulders, and places a crown with the same text on top of his hyung’s head. “There, beautiful ,” Jimin grins as he pats Seokjin’s shoulder.

“You look nice, Jimin-ah,” Seokjin says as he leans over the bar and orders two drinks for the both of them. “I like your lipstick. Suits you.” 

“Aw, hyung. Well, I suppose I have you to thank for that,” he laughs.

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Come again?”

“Your credit card.” 

Seokjin looks at him as if he’s speaking a different language.

Jimin clarifies, “When Yoongi hyung and I bought our suits, you told Yoongi that he couldn’t return the credit card before maxing out the day’s limit?” 

“I— what?” 

“So Yoongi insisted I get this lipstick,” he tells Seokjin.

“Are you sure? I’m very certain that I only have the receipts for the sui— oh. Oh. Oooooh .” Seokjin’s mouth drops open, then he glances at Jimin and grins. For good measure, he adds another drawn-out “ Oh ,” that leaves Jimin feeling increasingly confused. “Things are starting to make sense now.”

Things have literally never made less sense to Jimin, but whatever. 


“Ah, Jimin-ah, you know me,” Seokjin says. “Get me near a dancefloor and I immediately start forgetting my bank details, right? I’m always the same. But I remember now. Yes, haha. Yoongi used my credit card, yes.” 

Jimin is still confused when Seokjin laughingly pats Jimin’s shoulder, grabs his drink and moves past him through the crowd until he finds Yoongi. Weird . Yoongi looks particularly beautiful tonight, his skin still glowing from the afternoon in the sun. He’s ditched his suit jacket and tie, and he looks handsome with the two top buttons undone. 

He notices Yoongi doesn’t have a drink in his hand, so he leans over the bar and asks for a whiskey to be sent to him. “What kind do you want?” the woman behind the bar asks. 

He glances at the rows upon rows of bottles. “I don’t know. Whichever is the best.” 

She offers him a grin, and moves over to the other side of the bar where Yoongi and Seokjin are engaged in some heated conversation. Yoongi glances up when the bartender places the glass in front of him and points to Jimin. His eyes go soft and he mouths a thank you , which has Jimin’s heart beating so wildly that he starts thinking he should go and see a cardiologist when he gets back to Seoul. 

Beside Yoongi, Seokjin starts laughing, swatting his shoulder. Yoongi buries his nose in the glass of whiskey and gently shakes his head.

Seokjin may be the weirdest person Jimin knows. How rich can you be that you casually forget telling your best friend to take advantage of having your credit card for a day? Yoongi isn’t at all the type to accept an offer like that. Something isn’t adding up, Jimin thinks. Seokjin wasn’t being all that slick. Then —


( This just in: Park Jimin (25) voted most oblivious person on the planet )

Jimin gets it now.

There was never an assignment to max out the credit card. Yoongi bought him those Chanel things. With his own money. He bought that make-up for him. Because he wanted to. 

But why?, half of Jimin’s brain thinks as he downs his drink, feeling mildly panicked. Because he’s in love with you, you dummy , the other half supplies. And you are in love with him. 

And that has his heart doing somersaults inside of his chest. His heart seems to want to add to the conversation, You dumb assholes have been in love with each other for ages

Around him, the atmosphere grows looser and louder as his friends start seriously hitting the bar. Taehyung and Hoseok are throwing back a tequila shot, licking the salt off each other’s hands in a way Jimin thinks might not entirely be appropriate for so early in the night, while Jungkook has practically draped his body across the bar, staring at the bartender as she pours another shot for him, too. 

He is a little buzzed himself, from the wine during dinner and now the cocktail Seokjin had ordered for him. Possibly, the revelations of the past couple of minutes are also doing their fair share of the work to make him feel like he’s on a higher plane of existence. 

As a low, sultry song starts playing, Taehyung drags Hoseok towards the already crowded dance floor, leaving Jungkook to flirt with the bartender some more. 

“What the hell?” Namjoon comes to stand beside him. He adjusts the crown on his head, identical to Seokjin’s. “When did that become a thing?” 

“What, those two? I think it’s been going on for a while. At least six months.” 

Namjoon’s mouth drops open. “How did I not notice? What the fuck?” 

Jimin pats Namjoon’s shoulder. There’s a lot Namjoon doesn’t notice. 

Suddenly, Seokjin and Yoongi are with them. Jimin can feel a blush creeping up his cheeks as Yoongi’s eyes fall on him. “Baby, Joon-bug. I have to tell you something, now . You’ll never believe this,” Seokjin laughs, grabbing Namjoon’s hand and pulling him onto the dance floor, too. 

“Do you maybe—” Jimin starts, then trails off. Never mind, that’s stupid. Yoongi won’t want to dance with him.

“Yes,” Yoongi says, a little breathlessly. He takes Jimin’s hand in his own. Their hands slot together perfectly, Jimin briefly thinks. Would their mouths be the same? 

And then they’re close, so close, pushed together by the hot, sweaty bodies moving all around them. Their chests are practically touching, so Jimin does the thing anyone with addled brains would do, and wraps his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders, pulling him even closer. 

Yoongi’s hands fall to his hips, and they start swaying to the music. He leans closer to Jimin’s face, and for the briefest moment, he wonders whether Yoongi might be about to kiss him. He doesn’t, however, instead whispering against his ear, so close that Jimin can feel the heat of his breath on his cheek, “You look beautiful tonight.” 

From somewhere behind them, Jimin can hear Namjoon exclaiming a rather guttural “ What the fuck .” 

Yoongi laughs as Jimin’s head falls onto his shoulder, smiling into the fabric of his hyung’s shirt. “Jin-hyung put two and two together,” Yoongi explains. His lips hover over Jimin’s ear, hands tightening their hold on his hips. “Found out how wildly in love with you I am.” 

Jimin draws his head back and looks at Yoongi. “Are you?” 

Yoongi just nods. 

“Good,” Jimin says. 

They sway to the music together, and it feels as though the two of them are the only ones in the world. It’s just Jimin, playing with the hair at the nape of Yoongi’s neck, and Yoongi, his fingers digging into Jimin’s hip as they move together. 

Yoongi smells so good, so safe. A little sweaty mixed with whiskey and that signature cedar smell of his. Yoongi’s eyes search his face, as though he is studying him, taking in every minute detail of him and committing them to memory. The slant of his eyes, the mole on his left cheek, the way his nose arches up ever so slightly at the tip, and then — then Yoongi studies his mouth, his full lips, the sharp Cupid’s bow. Yoongi’s eyes are dark, pupils blown, and he swallows. 


He already knows what Yoongi is going to ask him, but he wants to hear him say it, and he wants to tell him yes. He wraps his arms a little tighter around Yoongi’s neck. 

“— I know we said we would wait until after the wedding, but… Can I kiss you?” 

Jimin feels like he might burst. “ Yes .” 

After a second’s hesitation that feels closer to an hour, Yoongi finally bridges the gap between them and slots their mouths together, and Jimin is in heaven. 

Yoongi’s mouth is soft against his, a little chapped, but nothing the lipstick on Jimin’s lips —the lipstick Yoongi bought him! —can’t fix. His kiss is warm and delicate, with a sense of sureness that blows Jimin away. Yoongi is the first to pull away. His eyes don’t leave Jimin’s, however. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Jimin leans forward to capture Yoongi’s lips with his own again, pressing a quick peck against his mouth. “Thank you .” 

Just when he wants to press another kiss to Yoongi’s mouth, the music dies out, and the doors to the bar are slammed open so loudly that Jimin flinches in Yoongi’s arms. He turns around to see two officers barging onto the dancefloor. 

“Yoongi, what’s happening?” He takes a step closer to Yoongi, who just drags his hands across Jimin’s hipbone. 

“Which one of you is Kim Seokjin?” says one of the officers. The other, “And who is Kim Namjoon?” 

Jimin’s heart sinks into his stomach — briefly he thinks that he never questioned how Seokjin, at the tender age of twenty-nine, came to own that grandiose penthouse of his. What if he’s secretly a beautiful but merciless criminal, embezzling money from corrupt government officials?

Yoongi, ” Jimin insists. He turns his head to find Yoongi’s lips pressed into a tight line, as if he is suppressing a laugh. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Yoongi whispers against his ear.

“But that’s police ,” he whimpers. 

Jungkook’s bartender steps around the bar and drags two chairs to the dancefloor, while Seokjin and Namjoon hesitantly step forward. 

“You are being arrested ,” the first officer enunciates, rather dramatically whipping out a set of handcuffs, swinging them in the air on his finger. The second officer, one hand firmly planted on his slender hip nods, the other stroking the barrel of his gun, says, “The crime, you ask? Being too fucking sexy .”



Around them, everyone’s bated breaths make place for loud cheering.

His mouth drops open and he swats at Yoongi’s chest. “You did not .”

Yoongi laughs and swings them both around to watch the spectacle. Both Seokjin and Namjoon are being sat down on the chair, their arms cuffed behind their backs by the handsome police officers. 

“I’ll get you for this, Park Jimin,” Seokjin shouts over the crowd’s cheering, but his eyes glitter with amusement.

Jimin just falls against Yoongi’s chest, doubled over from laughter. Yoongi wraps his arms around him and holds him steady there, pressing a kiss to his hair. 

The strippers start dancing and twirling around Seokjin and Namjoon as the music starts up again. When one of the officers slut drops in front of Namjoon, Seokjin nearly explodes with laughter at his fiance’s panicked expression. Then, the other officer drags his hand seductively across his own chest while planting himself on Seokjin’s lap, and then it’s his turn to look half-scandalised, half-turned on. 

It all goes down-hill from there, the music getting louder, the strippers getting increasingly raunchy. Some of the people around them start dancing again, others staying around to watch the strippers get rid of their clothing. At some point, Hoseok and Taehyung start making out again in a corner of the dance floor, but nobody bats an eye.

Jimin has his arms wrapped tightly around Yoongi’s waist, and his cheeks are starting to feel sore from smiling so much.

“Enjoying the spectacle?” 

“Very much,” Jimin grins. “You planned all of this without telling me?” 

Yoongi hums against his cheek. “It was supposed to be a surprise.” 

“For me ?” 

“For them, too. But yes. A surprise for you. I like seeing you smile like this,” Yoongi tells him. 

Hesitating a little — he still isn’t exactly sure what’s happening or what’s allowed — he cups Yoongi’s cheeks in his hand. His eyes flit towards Yoongi’s, seeking permission, before he pulls the other man close to him. 

Yoongi’s lips are delicious against his own, warm and soft. He wants to kiss Yoongi forever. 

When he draws back, Yoongi quips, “I’m afraid that you were right though, that time at the cafe. People don’t suck off strippers anymore at bachelor parties, so you’ll have to go without tonight.” 

Jimin’s eyes meet Yoongi’s. “Will I?” 

Yoongi’s mouth drops open. “Jesus Christ, Park Jimin.”

They meet in the middle, the kiss more heated than earlier. Yoongi’s mouth slides against his until his lips part and capture Jimin’s bottom lip between his own, sucking lightly. There’s a sense of sureness, a promise to Yoongi’s kiss, something that leaves Jimin’s head spinning with the thought of what that promise might entail. He grants Yoongi access to his mouth. A shiver runs down his spine when Yoongi’s tongue meets his own. 

To think that they hated the sight of each other eight months ago. 

Eventually, they break their kiss. They’re in a public place after all, and it’s not so late yet that they can claim public debauchery as a side effect of one too many drinks yet. 

The strippers are by now wearing nothing more than a jock strap, and they’re swirling around the dance floor so much that Jimin fears for the safety of their packages. Seokjin is hooting with laughter, while Namjoon is simply staring at the spectacle, his mouth dropped open wide. 

“I told you Jin hyung would enjoy having a stripper,” Jimin says. 

Yoongi turns and rolls his eyes at him. “Always have to have the last word, don’t you?” 

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” 

In return, Yoongi just offers him a tight-lipped smile and a drawn-out, long suffering sigh. “Yes, babe, you’re right.” 

Jimin wonders when Yoongi calling him babe turned from something ironic into something genuine. He’ll ask him, when they’re alone at some point. “Do you want another drink?” 

“Yeah. Anything with no alcohol is fine. I think… I think I won’t drink any more alcohol tonight.” He holds Jimin’s gaze for a second too long, sending sparks of electricity down Jimin’s spine. 


Capturing Yoongi’s hand with his, they make their way over to the bar, where Jungkook is still chatting up the bartender with apparent success. Suddenly, he feels Hoseok barging into him. 

“Minnie,” he shouts over the music, “Would you mind terribly if I stole our room? Tae and I..."

“You’re sexiling me?” Jimin replies, a hand falling to his mouth in mock-shock, because no single person had ever seen this coming. “It’s fine, hyung,” he laughs. “You take the room and be safe.” 

“You’re the best, Minnie,” Hoseok says, pressing a wet, sloppy kiss to his cheek, and disappears.

“Kook,” Jimin nudges his friend. “You have the room to yourself, right? I can bunk with you tonight.” 

Jungkook stares at him for a moment, silent. Then his eyes flit to the bartender, and back to Jimin again.

Jimin looks at the bartender, who looks at Jungkook, then at Jimin, then at Jungkook again.

“Never mind,” he says, laughingly patting Jungkook on his back. “You go and have fun.” 

The bartender gives him a small smile as she slides over two colas and tells them they’re on the house. When Jimin turns to Yoongi again, the other man is looking at him a little strangely, as if he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.

Then — 

“Jimin,” Yoongi says, leaning in slightly. “If Taehyung is with Hoseok in your room, then that means that mine…” 

“... is free,” Jimin supplies, catching onto Yoongi’s train of thought. 

Yoongi’s hand is on his waist, fingers tracing a pattern over the silk of his blouse. He leans forward to speak into his ear, “If you wanted to, you could sleep in my room tonight?” 

“Depends, is the bed comfortable?” Jimin leans into Yoongi’s touch when the other man’s fingers leave a trail of heat wherever they touch him.

“I suppose we could test that out.” Yoongi’s lips hover over his cheek until they press a soft kiss against Jimin’s jaw. 

“Yeah?” Jimin lets his head fall back to grant Yoongi access, and his breath hitches as Yoongi’s lips trace his jaw, light as a feather. “How do you suppose we could do that?” His hands grab at Yoongi’s upper arms for purchase, keeping him steady. 

“I could kiss you lots,” Yoongi starts. “I’ve been wanting to for a while.” 

“Yeah? What else?” 

“Would you like me to show you?” Yoongi’s lips hover over his, so close that they’re not kissing but not exactly not kissing either. He wants this man, he needs this man. 

“Lead the way, then.” 



When Jimin steps into Yoongi’s hotel room, a wave of inexplicable nervousness washes over him. Never mind the way Yoonig nuzzled his jaw, held his waist on the dance floor, or the way they spent the entire elevator ride wrapped close together, Yoongi’s tongue sliding against his. While Yoongi moves past him into the room, Jimin lingers by the door, suddenly unsure of himself. 

“Jimin-ah.” Yoongi’s eyes and voice are so filled with love that he finds it hard to move from his place by the door. 

There are some things he knows about Min fucking Yoongi (disinterested emoji):

  1. Yoongi is kind and good and warm
  2. He wants Yoongi so much
  3. He is so scared 
  4. But Yoongi would never in a million years force him into anything he didn't want
  5. And that's exactly why he's so in love with him, isn't he? 
  6. Because he is. So very fucking much in love with Min fucking Yoongi. So much so that the wires in his brain are short-circuiting and—
  7. —oh God, is he freaking out? Why is he freaking out?

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi repeats gently, taking a step closer but staying well out of reach, careful not to overstep any boundaries. 

He thinks of Yoongi’s words from a few months ago. Tell people how you feel instead of keeping it in. 

“I'm scared,” he whispers. 

“Me too,” Yoongi says. He leans his back against the wall and stares at his socked feet. 

“I — I don't think I've ever felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”

“Me either.”

“And that's scary.”


And that - oh , but it warms Jimin's heart, to hear that Yoongi understands; that it's the same for him. That it's not just Jimin freaking out but that Yoongi, too, is at a loss. They're both in a little ship out at sea, with no anchor or compass, bobbing on the gentle waves. But Jimin thinks that if they both work the oars hard enough, perhaps they'll find their way to the shore. 

He gingerly steps into Yoongi’s space, forcing the elder’s eyes up to his own. “But I want to try. Do you?”

Yoongi blinks slowly, his cheeks rising as a gentle smile appears on his face. “Yes.”

And then his nerves float away with the waves as Yoongi and Jimin start rowing their little boat. 

Yoongi’s mouth is on his again, tenderly at first, then with increasing pressure and urgency. Jimin can convince himself he hated Yoongi all he wants, but there's no denying that this moment has been years in the making, that his mouth hasn’t started watering at just the sight of Yoongi for the past five years. 

They kiss for what feels like hours. When Yoongi’s hands start roaming his torso, Jimin finds himself pressing even closer to Yoongi, their hips slotting together at such an angle that Jimin can't help but let out a breathy moan. 

“Oh my God, you're so beautiful,” Jimin breathes when Yoongi shrugs off his shirt. He can't believe it took him so long to get Yoongi shirtless. If shirtless Yoongi is the last thing on earth he sees, he would die a happy man. 

“Shut up,” Yoongi grins into the crook of his neck. 

“No, literally,” Jimin says. “You're fucking beautiful.”

Yoongi responds with a hot open-mouthed kiss. He lets out a low, rumbling moan when Jimin's index finger flicks his nipple, barely audible but reverberating against Jimin’s tongue. 

“Sensitive, huh?” Jimin grins as he rolls Yoongi’s nipple between his finger and thumb. 


“Oh, definitely,” Jimin agrees. He takes advantage of Yoongi’s open mouth, and runs his thumb over the elder’s tongue before bringing it back to his hardened nipple.

“Jimin, fuck,”

“Yes, please.”

Jimin makes quick work of his own shirt, and then it's Yoongi’s turn to gasp at the sight of him. 

They kiss and kiss and kiss, until Jimin feels quite breathless, until the friction of their hips occasionally slotting together is no longer anywhere near enough. 

With a slight tremble in them, Jimin’s fingers find their way to the button of Yoongi’s trousers. 

“We can stop anytime, babe,” Yoongi pulls back a little, catches his gaze. 

“I know. I want this. Do you?” His hands, resting on top of Yoongi’s waistband, play along the strip of skin just above it. 

“I do. Very, very much.”


Then, before he knows it, they are both naked, and Yoongi is pushing them both towards the bed. With one hand pressed gently to the small of his back, Yoongi lowers him onto the bed, capturing his mouth before stepping back. 

Jimin props himself up on his forearms, mouth falling open as he takes in all of Yoongi’s slender form. Yoongi is half-hard already, and Jimin can't wait to put his mouth on him. 

Yoongi looks him over, eyes raking slowly across his body, taking in all of him. Then, he climbs onto the bed, stradling Jimin’s lap, his hands falling onto Jimin’s chest. 

“You’re really something, Park Jimin,” Yoongi says, his voice reverent. “Do you remember what you told me when you suggested those 36 questions?” 

“No? Tell me.” 

One corner of Yoongi’s mouth quirks up. “You said you’d sooner eat your own foot than fall in love with me.” 

Jimin leans up, snaking his arms around Yoongi’s chest. “And yet here we are.” 

Yoongi cups Jimin’s cheeks with both hands and leans down to kiss him. Just before their lips can connect, he whispers, “Yeah, here we are.”

Then they are kissing again, hot and hard, their hands exploring the broad expanses of each other’s skin. Jimin finds himself emitting sounds he didn’t know he could make when Yoongi drags a finger down his side. He pushes Jimin back down onto the mattress, bringing their bodies flush together. Jimin can feel Yoongi’s hardness pressing against his own, and he arches his back to slide against him. 

Yoongi understands the message. He plants one arm next to Jimin’s on the bed, and starts grinding against him ever so slowly, the drag of their cocks against each other sending Jimin’s brains spiraling. As Yoongi grinds, Jimin lifts up his hips to meet him half-way. There’s no finesse to it, just need and instinct kicking in as Jimin wraps his legs around Yoongi’s hips, pulling him closer to his body. 

They start rocking together in earnest, exchanging open-mouthed, breathy kisses. Yoongi’s mouth leaves behind a wet trail of kisses along the line of his jaw. Jimin can feel the heat building low in his stomach, and he rolls them both around so that he is the one to straddle Yoongi now.

“Is this okay?” he asks, kissing Yoongi’s mouth first, then the sensitive spot at his neck, then his clavicle — lower and lower and lower until his mouth hovers over Yoongi’s belly button.

“God, yes,” is Yoongi’s reply, and without wasting any more time than they already have, Jimin takes Yoongi into his mouth. He quickly finds that sucking off Yoongi is addictive. When he hollows his cheek, Yoongi hisses in pleasure, bucking his hips and tangling his hand in Jimin’s hair. When Jimin swirls his tongue against the underside of Yoongi’s dick, the other man lets out such expletives that Jimin glances up through his eyelashes in amusement. 

“Baby,” Yoongi breathes, pulling Jimin up into a bruising kiss. “I’ll come if you keep that up.”

Jimin smiles into his kiss as he settles his legs on either side of Yoongi’s hips. “I thought that that was kind of the point.” 

Yoongi flicks a nipple in response and wraps a hand around Jimin. “You’re so cocky, I’ll have to see what I can do about that kind of behaviour.” He starts stroking him, flicking his wrist as he applies some pressure to Jimin’s hardness with his thumb and index finger. Yoongi is good at this, holy fuck

“Is that a threat or a promise, hyung?” 

Yoongi’s head falls against Jimin’s chest, his laughter a low rumble. “You’re the worst, Jimin.” 

“I hate you too,” Jimin says. Heat coils low in his belly, his release growing closer and closer. He strokes Yoongi faster. It’s messy and sloppy, but going by the noises Yoongi makes, it’s effective enough. 

“Good,” Yoongi says, and kisses him, quickening the flick of his wrist when Jimin lets out a low, needy moan.

Yoongi scrunches his eyes closed and his breath hitches, his hand on Jimin stilling as he calls out his name and spills all over their chests and Jimin’s hand. Jimin wraps his free hand around Yoongi’s, and starts working their hands up and down, faster and harder until he, too, comes with Yoongi’s name on his lips. 

They fall asleep much later, legs tangled beneath the sheets, with Jimin’s head nestled on Yoongi’s chest, and Yoongi softly carding his fingers through Jimin’s hair. 



Min fucking Yoongi. 




The following day, they hold a treasure hunt on the beach, the one that Yoongi and Jimin spent all those months organising. 

Nobody bats an eye when Yoongi and Jimin hold hands throughout. 




That second night, which they all spend hunched around a campfire on the beach together, laughing and drinking and gazing up at the stars — Jimin doesn’t get to those often back in Seoul — Jimin and Taehyung just look at each other once before wordlessly agreeing that they have now officially swapped rooms. Jimin drags his suitcase across the hallway, meeting Taehyung half-way, doing the same. 

Yoongi fucks him so beautifully that night that Jimin can see the starry sky whenever he closes his eyes. They clutch one another so tightly that it almost hurts, and Yoongi’s kisses are bruising in their tenderness. He thinks he won’t mind not having real stars to look at back at home, because he can see them in his mind’s eye whenever Yoongi has his hands on him. 




The day of his best friends’ wedding arrives, and it announces itself with a deep rumbling of the heavens, fat drops of rain falling to the ground in a steady beat. 

Well. That's ironic. 

When Jimin's alarm rings, he rolls around, groaning and burying himself underneath his blankets to drown out the insistent beeping. 

Next to him, Yoongi stirs. “Baby,” he grunts, his voice groggy. “The alarm.”

“I know,” is Jimin's grumbling reply. He scoots closer to Yoongi’ side. “Just five more minutes.”

When Yoongi next speaks, he sounds alarmingly awake. That should be a nice compromise, Jimin thinks: Yoongi can wake up now and give his five extra minutes of sleep to him , and then he'll have all of ten minutes to doze off some more. It's genuine math.

Yoongi leans over Jimin's body, hits snooze and presses a kiss to Jimin's temple. “Nope, nope, nope,” he says, spacing his words with featherlight kisses. “We have to go on a date today, baby.”

It’s funny how quickly Jimin has grown accustomed to having Yoongi in his bed: after Jeju, Yoongi had come home with him, and in the two weeks following, they had only spent two nights apart. It's is safe and good and warm, and besides, the sex is incredible. 

That thought wakes him up alright. Yoongi grins against his cheek as Jimin starts trailing a hand down Yoongi’s stomach, reaching lower until he cups the front of Yoongi’s underwear with his hand.

 “Okay,” Yoongi at last admits. “Five more minutes.”

They spend a whole lot more than five minutes in bed, the rain a relentless backdrop to their mingled sighs and moans, and in the end have to rush to get ready. They stand before the large mirror together, taking quick breaks every now and then to peck each other on the lips. Yoongi is drying his hair while Jimin does his make-up. It feels so natural and nice, as though they have been doing this forever. They should have been doing this forever. 

“You're so sneaky, hyung,” Jimin says, holding up the Chanel palette. 

“Took you long enough to figure out,” he grins, but when Jimin looks at him in the mirror, he can see the tips of Yoongi’s ears grow a sweet shade of pink. 

Yoongi obligingly holds up an umbrella over Jimin’s head as they brave the short path from the front door of Jimin’s apartment complex to the side of the road where their taxi awaits. Jimin just wraps an arm around Yoongi’s waist and pulls him in closer so that they are both protected from the rain. 

The wedding venue is on the other side of the city, a sprawling city hall with large expanses of glass, overlooking the Han river from several stories up. Yoongi and Jimin had visited it earlier in the year, and had been suitably impressed with the commanding view and the spacious reception area. They’re the first two to arrive (which befits them as best men, but still draws out a chuckle from Seokjin. “I see our Yoongi is already having a good effect on you, Jimin-ah.”), and when Jimin steps inside the wedding hall, his mouth drops open. 

The venue is unrecognisably changed, and it’s not just the fact that the sky outside is grey and the Han river can’t be seen through the rain; everywhere he looks there are fairy lights and plants. So many plants. Green vines twisting around centerpieces that Jimin is quite sure must be nearly as tall as he is; hydrangeas in a muted, pastel-green trail across the row of tables while from the ceiling huge installations of greenery and butterfly plants intertwined with the tiny dots of fairy lights hang suspended like pillowy clouds. 

“Oh my God, it’s beautiful,” he breathes. “Let’s get married, too.” 

When Yoongi’s hand tightens around his, he realises what it is he’s said. (Park Jimin (25), Assuming Things™) . “Oh fuck I didn’t—” 

“Okay,” Yoongi replies simply, squeezing his hand again. “Not now, though. Don’t want to steal Seokjin and Joon’s thunder.” 

As if at his command, the sky outside rumbles, low and threatening. Jimin laughs. “Fuck. Okay. You’re crazy, you know?” 

“Says the person proposing after, what, two weeks of dating?” 

Yoongi’s words send a thrill down Jimin’s spine. Dating . They’re dating . They haven’t even talked about words and names and what to call each other. They’re dating, but are they boyfriends

“I never proposed ,” says Jimin. “I merely suggested.” 

Yoongi tuts but can’t prevent a fond smile from appearing on his face. “You always have to have the last word, don’t you?” 

“Precisely. When I propose to you, you’ll know. It won’t be just a suggestion.” 

“A threat, then,” Yoongi deadpans, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly. “I see.” 

“Careful, or you’re not getting a proposal at all, mister ‘one in three marriages end in divorce, anyway.’ Besides, shouldn’t we…Shouldn’t we be boyfriends first?” 

Yoongi turns towards him, lips parted, his eyes slightly panicked. “Oh. Um. I… I sort of assumed that we were? After Jeju? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed, I should have—” 

Jimin cuts him off with a kiss. 

“Disgusting,” he hears Seokjin from somewhere behind them. 

“We're boyfriends now,” Jimin announces proudly. 

“As I said,” Seokjin says, “disgusting.” He grins and slaps Yoongi on the back, then makes an attempt to ruffle Jimin's hair. He successfully manages to dodge Jin’s incoming hand by leaning closer to his boyfriend. Yoongi wraps an arm around his waist. 

Seokjin lets out a low whine. “I see how it is,” he sighs dramatically. “You two will forever be on the same team now. Against me. Tragedy strikes again.”

“Afraid so,” Yoongi agrees. “He's even going to marry me.”

Seokjin shakes his head sadly. “I see how it is. When Namjoon and I made the two of you our best men, we thought the best possible outcome would be if you managed not to murder each other in the process. But this…”

“I know,” Jimin says, wrinkling his nose. “Who’d have thought?” 

“I did,” Taehyung says, strutting into the venue. 

“He has come up with fanfiction about you two getting together,” Hoseok announces, wrapping an arm around Taehyung’s waist. Jimin pointedly ignores that remark. 

Seokjin gives a mock-gasp. “Why is everyone getting into relationships all of a sudden?” 

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Hyung, we’re literally at your wedding.”

“Ooh! Yes! Yes!” Seokjin exclaims, as if suddenly reminded of the fact. “I’m marrying the love of my life today,” he sing-songs. 

“Disgusting,” the others say in unison.

“Which reminds me,” Seokjin says, “I’d better go and see if he hasn’t accidentally strangled himself with his tie.” 

Slowly but surely, the venue fills out with friends and family and colleagues of the two grooms, until the place is almost bursting at the seams. Jimin’s heart glows when he sees how loved his friends are. He doesn’t even notice that the rain has let up, because the loud noise of its steady fall had been drowned out by the chatter of everyone in the room. 

When everyone is in position and the doors open to first reveal Seokjin, looking extremely dapper in his suit, the fog outside clears enough to let through a beam of the brightest, warmest sunlight, enveloping Seokjin in an effervescent glow. He struts down the aisle, accompanied by his father, making finger guns at Jungkook and sending a flying kiss to his mother. He moves to stand by the altar and lets out a shaky breath when the doors open again to reveal Namjoon and his mother. Namjoon looks like he belongs in the sea of greenery decorating the venue, and it’s no wonder to Jimin that Seokjin starts choking up as soon as he sees his husband-to-be. 

The ceremony flies by: a hazy mess of tears, laughter and sunlight bursting through the windows. Before he knows it, Jimin has his arms wrapped tight around his best friend, a married man now!

“I’m so happy for you,” Jimin says, standing on his tippy-toes to reach Namjoon’s ear. 

Namjoon pulls him tighter into the embrace. His voice sounds choked up when he speaks next. “Thank you for everything, Jiminie. I—” he hesitates, “I really love you, man. I hope you know that.” 

“I know, silly,” Jimin sniffles. “I love you too, Joon-hyung.” 

For the dinner, Jimin and Yoongi get to sit together at the grooms’ table because of their status as best men, pressed close together. Jimin is chatting with Namjoon’s father, who has been a teacher for thirty years, when he notices Yoongi clearing his throat and standing up from his seat. Yoongi taps a spoon against his champagne flute and waits until the room falls silent.

“I never considered myself a sappy romantic before Seokjin and Namjoon got together,” Yoongi says after introducing himself. Everyone in the venue coos and aww s. “And I certainly don’t consider myself one now. Have you been around those two?” He wrinkles his nose and offers the audience a few choice nicknames he’s heard over the years. Jimin can hear the people around him giggling.

“Hyung, you bought Jimin six bouquets of flowers in the past three weeks alone.” 

“That’s beside the point, Joon-ah,” Yoongi counters. “The point is, you two are so disgustingly in love with each other, it’s impossible to surpass you two in sappiness.” 

“Well— I suppose you’re trying hard enough, Yoongichi,” Seokjin laughs, winking at Jimin, a wide smile on his face. 

Yoongi just rolls his eyes. “If you two assholes could stop interfering with my best man's speech, please?” 

Seokjin pretends to lock Namjoon’s mouth, and then his own, sending the imaginary key flying through the venue.

“Thank you,” Yoongi says. “I’m not sure whether any of you here know this, but I was there when Namjoon and Seokjin met for the first time. It was at the University bookstore, and I had lured Seokjin into coming along with the promise of lots of food afterwards. He was so bored, and he kept letting me know exactly how boring my interest in Joseon poetry was, and why had I chosen to write a PhD on poetry , of all things. Et cetera . You all know how he can get. (— “ Ya!” —)

“Then, all of a sudden, this tall, lanky boy managed to bring down an entire shelf while reaching for a book, burying himself underneath the entire Late Joseon era poetry section of the bookstore, books flying everywhere. I’m decently sure I don’t have to tell you all who this boy is,” Yoongi adds after a pause. He raises an eyebrow and glances around the room as everyone roars with laughter. 

Jimin looks over at the newlyweds. Namjoon is burying his head in Seokjin’s shoulder, fighting back a blush. 

“And Seokjin was hooting, he was actually losing it, he was laughing that much,” Yoongi continues, grinning. “That is, until he knelt down and helped the boy get out from underneath the books. He took Namjoon’s hand in his, looked at his face for one literal second, and he just fell silent, he was so in awe of Namjoon. So then suddenly I was the second lead in their own meet-cute drama.” 

Ya !” Seokjin lets out, giving Yoongi’s arm a shove. “I wasn’t that bad.” 

Yoongi takes a sip from his champagne. “Oh, you were, hyung. You were.” 

“Agreed!” Taehyung shouts from the table next to them. 

“So of course, as in any half-decent drama, there were a few months of pining, Seokjin unable to talk of anything not Namjoon-related. — And I love you, Namjoon, but at that stage he was keeping notes of exactly how much milk you put in your coffee. Anyway,” he says, after Namjoon laughs, “he had a bit of a rough time courting Namjoon due to Joon’s obliviousness, but they got there in the end,” he finishes, patting Seokjin’s shoulder.

“Says who ?” Jungkook pipes up. 

Everyone who knows both Yoongi and Jimin laughs, and Jimin feels a blush creeping up on his cheek. Yoongi, however, just shrugs. “Fair enough, I’ve done my fair share of pining, too.” He takes Jimin’s hand in his, and presses a featherlight kiss to Jimin’s knuckles. The room coos and Jimin feels butterflies dancing in his stomach.

“He means the obliviousness, hyung,” Taehyung shouts. 

Yoongi’s mouth quirks up and he shakes his head. “Anyway, what I was trying to say before everyone started interrupting me,” he says, glaring around the room at his friends. “Is that I could literally not be happier to be a side character in their love story. Disgusting though they may be together, it was an honour to watch my best friend find the love of his life — even if that didn’t go entirely smoothly. The way you two love each other is an inspiration to all those around you. Seokjin, hyung, it’s an honour to call you my best friend, and I. Um. Kind of… love you, I guess.” Yoongi’s nose scrunches up as he addresses Seokjin directly, scratching the back of his neck. 

Seokjin pretends to gag, but there are tears streaming down his face as he mouths an I love you too back. 

“And Joon-ah,” Yoongi continues, “this is where I should be telling you that if you ever hurt him, I will be cutting off your—” he glances at Namjoon’s parents, “—fingers. But I know you won’t, so I’ll just say that I wish you two find joy and love in each other for the rest of your lives, and I sincerely hope you two never stop being your sappy asshole selves. I love you, guys. A toast, everyone, to Namjoon and Seokjin, and to sappy romance.” 

As the room around them erupts in shouts, Yoongi only has eyes for Jimin. He smiles, eyes crinkling into crescent moons, and lifts Jimin’s hand up once again to press his lips to the back of Jimin’s hand. 

“To sappy romance!” 



A lot of food and alcohol and dancing later, dusk is falling in Seoul. While the enormous windows had let through beams of sunlight earlier, now they reflect the neon lights of the city slowly being lit up. Jimin rests his head on Yoongi’s shoulder, the elder’s arm wrapped firmly around his waist as the party around them continues. He wishes he could stay here forever, with the people he loves most in the world, in this beautiful green oasis in the midst of the city. 

Namjoon suddenly moves to stand up from the table, swaying a little as he grabs for his bouquet of flowers. Seokjin steadies him with a firm hand on his hip. “I’m gonna throw the bouquet,” Namjoon announces.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Namjoon, really? You know I was joking about you guys being the leads in a drama, right?” 

Seokjin narrows his eyes at him. “I’ll thank you not to shit talk my husband, please. If he wants to throw his bouquet, you will let him.” 

“Yeah, don’t hate on my hyungs, hyung,” says Jungkook, who has his arms draped around Seokjin’s neck, eyes hazy with sleep.

“Who wants to try and catch it?” 

Several people stand up and follow Namjoon to a place next to their table where it’s moderately safe for Namjoon of all people to throw a bunch of flowers over his shoulder. Jimin looks at Yoongi’s lap and plays with the hem of his boyfriend’s sleeve.

Yoongi’s mouth falls open as soon as he catches Jimin’s eye. “Do you want to go and catch it, babe?” 

Jimin nuzzles his face into Yoongi’s shirt. “Hyung should go and catch it for me,” he says. 

“Oh my God,” Yoongi mutters, dragging a hand across his face. “You know Jin-hyung will never ever shut up about it if I do this, don’t you? Imagine if I actually manage to catch it…” he trails off.

Jimin giggles. “Exactly.” 

Yoongi shakes his head, but presses a kiss to Jimin’s lips before he stands up. “The things I do for love…” he mutters. Jimin lets out an excited squeal and watches as Yoongi reluctantly follows after Namjoon. Their friends cheer, but Yoongi just flips them off before joining the other hopefuls, together with Jungkook. 

Namjoon sways on his feet, a little worse for wear after all the champagne and the, you know, whole wedding day thing. He turns his back to the group and eyes his bouquet, all soft purple hydrangeas and peonies. 

It’s quite beautiful, and Jimin would quite like to have it. 

Jimin leans his head on his hand as he watches the spectacle. Namjoon practices once by swinging the bouquet over one shoulder, then once again over the other shoulder. He can barely stand up straight on his own. There’s a determined glint in Yoonig’s eyes that makes Jimin laugh. For all Yoongi’s bravado, Jimin knows who the one true sappy romantic in the room is, and it’s not Namjoon or Seokjin. 

“You ready?” 

“Throw it, hyung!” Jungkook shouts, jumping up and down next to Yoongi, trying to find the best flower-catching position. If anything, it seems to make Yoongi even more determined to catch it. 

Things happen within seconds. With his lips pressed tightly together, still swaying a little, Namjoon squats low. He jumps up, swinging his arms over his head wildly and sending the bouquet of flowers flying through the venue, flying, flying, flying, until —

— it hits Jimin square in the face. 

“Ouch,” is all he can say. 

“Oh my God,” says Namjoon, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“Holy shit,” Hoseok offers. 

“It seems like we’ll have another wedding to plan,” Seokjin says after he’s recovered from the shock of the moment enough to speak again.

“Speaking of sappy dramas...” Taehyung says.




Yoongi’s monograph on the poetry of Hwang Jini is published later that summer. 

Its dedication reads, To my parents, for supporting me throughout my career, to my friends for putting up with my endless complaints, and Jimin, who I love to hate .




They say the longer a couple is together, the more their habits rub off on each other. Perhaps one of them starts unconsciously adopting the same nose scrunch. Maybe the other one has also started singing songs from musical theater under the shower. Sometimes couples take over each others’ habits, until they can no longer distinguish which characteristic was originally whose. Other times, though, people just learn to live with their partner’s quirks. Yoongi, though having taken his fair share of quirks from Jimin (and so what if he sings I’ll make a man out of you under the shower? So what?), has definitely grown accustomed to his boyfriend’s habits. 

Because there are some habits you just can’t shake, no matter how punctual or organised your partner is. 

It’s a cold and wet November day in Seoul, some years later, and some things still haven’t changed. The rain is relentless, and Jimin pulls down his beanie as he sidesteps a puddle. He is late, because of course he is, and he has forgotten to bring an umbrella, because of course he has . First, he had had to stay at work for thirty minutes longer, because one of his students’ parents had been held up due to the weather. Then, his subway train had been delayed for ten whole minutes, and then — well, you get the gist. He just hopes Yoongi hasn’t arrived at the coffee shop yet, because he would hate to be the only one to arrive late to Seokjin and Namjoon’s Super Important Meeting™.

The rain doesn’t let up as he speedwalks from the underground station to the coffee shop. 


Blinking the rain from his lashes, he looks up to see Yoongi standing on the street corner, safe and dry and warm underneath a large umbrella. 

Of course.

Even after several years, Jimin can still feel the warmth flooding his entire body whenever he lays his eyes on Yoongi, butterflies dancing an intricate choreography in his stomach.

His boyfriend approaches him with long strides, and soon, Jimin, too, is protected by the umbrella overhead. “I knew you were gonna forget your umbrella at work,” Yoongi says by way of greeting, kissing him. 

“Hello to you too, darling,” Jimin replies, leaning into Yoongi’s embrace. “Thank you for coming to pick me up.” 

“Anytime, pudding.” 

Some habits definitely don’t change, Jimin snorts, and links his arm with Yoongi’s as they continue their way to the coffee shop together, talking a little about their day as they go. 

“What do you think Jin-hyung and Joon-hyung want to tell us? They said they wanted to ask us something important, too?” 

Yoongi pulls Jimin a little closer to his side so that the umbrella fully covers them both, and there’s no longer any rain falling on Jimin’s shoulder. He grins. “Oh, I think I have an inkling of what they’re going to tell us.” 

“Hyung, what do you mean?” Then, when the realisation hits him, he lets out a gasp. He turns to Yoongi, and puts a hand on his stomach to make him stand still in the middle of the sidewalk. “Do you think they’re really—”

“Having a baby? Oh, I definitely think so,” Yoongi says, nodding. They set off again. “I’ve started putting a packet of tissues in my bag everytime I go out, because I can’t go anywhere without Seokjin drooling everytime he sees a chubby toddler.” 

Jimin thinks for a minute as he huddles closer to Yoongi, growing excited as he starts to put two and two together. “Now that you mention it… I went shopping with Namjoon a few weeks ago and found him cooing over baby shoes. I thought that was odd.” 

“Well, there you go.” 

Ahead of them, the coffee shop’s red exterior comes into view. Jimin breaks out into a smile and claps his hand. “We’re going to have a baby, Yoongi!” 

“Seokjin-hyung and Namjoon are going to have a baby, Jimin,” Yoongi shakes his head. “Not us.” 

“I know,” Jimin says with a roll of his eyes. “But if they’re going to tell us they’re adopting a baby and that they have an important question for us, then I already know what they’re going to ask,” he adds, delighted. “We’re gonna be the baby’s godparents. So, basically — we’re having a baby.” 

Yoongi breaks out into a gummy grin. “I guess we are, then, if you put it like that.” As they reach the door, he closes the umbrella and shakes off the water.

Jimin waggles his eyebrows and snakes an arm around Yoongi’s waist. “Guess I’m going to have to start calling you Daddy now, hyung.” 

“Park Jimin, I hate you.” 

He leans forward to capture Yoongi’s mouth with his. It’s brief and soft, but he thinks he manages to convey what he wants when he feels Yoongi sigh into his kiss and tighten his arms around his waist.

When he pulls back, Jimin chuckles. “I hate you too, hyung. Come,” he says, offering Yoongi his hand. “Let’s go in.” 

Yoongi squeezes his hand tight, and they step into the coffee shop.