Valentine’s Day came and went. The boys rolled out of bed that morning same as any other day. Showers were taken and too-small portions of breakfast were doled out. Shorts and tank tops and beat-up Nike’s were pulled on, lining up in the front hall and through the door, shuffling down the street, February air biting at their cheeks and numbing their fingers. Yoongi wasn’t particularly fond of Valentine’s Day, or winter in general.
People could bitch and moan about it being a magical time of year all they wanted, Yoongi decided, but not a week after winter began, Christmas came and went, too, leaving nothing to look forward to but bitter cold and snow that no longer carried the magic it seemed to when he was a child. Winter sucked.
None of them had even really noticed that it was Valentine’s day, honestly, their busy schedules leaving no extra time and no real way to differentiate a Tuesday from a Saturday, let alone holidays that only existed to guilt trip lovers’ long past their honey moon phase into taking a half-assed trip to the grocery store at the last minute to buy chocolates, roses, cheap jewelry, whatever else people were goaded into buying these days.
Jimin had been offbeat the past couple months, being late to smile at remarks directed towards him, tripping up months-practiced choreography, skipping meals more often; but it wasn’t until they were taking a break during dance practice, a thin sheen of sweat already covering their skin, leaning back into the cold mirrored wall, that he nearly broke down.
Taehyung had never meant to cause any harm, probably never realizing that he did, but he waltzed over anyway, Jimin standing against the wall, chugging a water bottle, and Taehyung wrapped his arms around him, hands resting on the older boy’s stomach, chin resting on his shoulder. “Happy Valentine’s day, Jiminie.” Jimin stuttered, hands slowly moving over Taehyung’s, shrugging him off. “Oh.. yeah, happy Valentine’s Day, Taetae.”
Taehyung smiled cheerily, oblivious to the quivering in Jimin’s lower lip, gazing happily at something unknown, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I wish I had a girlfriend, Jimin-ah, someone to spend Valentine’s Day with.” He rambled on, and Jimin packed away his stuff, tucking his phone into his bag and setting his water bottle down. “It’s kind of lonely here.”
“Yeah, Tae, me too,” Jimin muttered hastily, walking back onto the dance floor. Taehyung took a hint and backed off, walking to his spot on his the opposite side of the floor as the rest of the boys took their place. Yoongi watched the whole scene from across the room, not missing the way Jimin stared helplessly up at the ceiling as the music started up again, a step behind the rest of the group as he struggled through choreography Yoongi knew he knew by heart. He didn’t miss the way Jimin’s shoulders slumped on the walk back home, the way he toed off his shoes with his head down at the door, whispering something to Hoseok about taking a nap, not to wake him for dinner, and Hoseok nodded sadly, squeezing his shoulder.
Yoongi sat on the couch, watching an anime with the kids, only half-noticing the way Jimin padded to his room, motioning to shut the door behind him but apparently not noticing or not caring that it didn’t shut all the way, bouncing back and leaving the door and inch ajar. Yoongi managed to stare blankly at the TV screen for another two minutes before deciding he could do with a bathroom break, starting down the hall. Half of Yoongi knew what he was really doing, consciously or not, urging him to go back and leave Jimin alone, and the other half of him insisted that he was simply going to take a piss and he didn’t know anything about a particularly sad-looking Park Jimin alone in his room.
But as Yoongi treaded down the hall, he certainly didn’t miss the hushed sobs Jimin muffled into his pillow, doubled over it as his fingers curled in his hair, pulling hard enough to tear the hairs from his head, and Yoongi winced, leaning into the door frame. Jeongguk didn’t cry a lot, but when he did, Yoongi wasn’t super sympathetic. Jeongguk was a brat, and it’s not like he didn’t always have a million hyungs hovering over him, ready to hold him or talk to him whenever he wanted.
Taehyung was pretty much the same, going straight to Hoseok if anything was bothering him. Hoseok himself cried constantly, but that wasn’t strange for him. Hoseok felt things strongly, he was always very happy or very excited, so it was natural that when he was sad he felt it to the extreme. But Hoseok was a favorite in the dorm, and even Namjoon had no qualms about petting his hyung’s head on his lap until he calmed down. Namjoon and Seokjin, even being so close knit, lived in almost different worlds, Namjoon writing and producing, spitting out raps and leading so well everyone forgot he was the middle child of the group. Seokjin was motherly and caring and friendly and the opposite of Namjoon’s sometimes brash attitude, but they both went straight to each other for everything, having some sort of radar for when the other needed them nearby.
But Jimin. Yoongi knew Jimin. It wasn’t hard to guess Jimin’s insecurities, wasn’t hard to guess how much one of his hyung’s brushing him off really hurt him. Jimin was sweet and sincere, a bit of a pain in his ass when he was trying to sleep, but Jimin never meant anything less than the best for everyone. But here he was, crying by himself, tucked away in his bedroom quietly as possible as he choked back sobs, shuddering breaths wracking through his body as he tried to calm down.
And it hurt, it physically ached inside of Yoongi, and he wanted nothing more than to run in and scoop Jimin into his lap and just hold him until the tears stopped, until he was ready to face the world again. He wanted to be the one Jimin went to to dry his tears, to whisper encouragements against his skin and take the pain away.
But Yoongi wasn’t stupid. Or maybe he just thought too much, but he knew he didn’t have a reputation as a shoulder to cry on in the dorm. What if he walked into the room and scared Jimin off, what if Jimin thought he was going to make fun of him or scold him or kick him out? Yoongi kicks himself for building himself that reputation, backing away from the doorway and leaving Jimin to himself. Eventually Jimin falls asleep, hugging the pillow to his chest and tears stained down his cheeks. The other boys peter in hours later, one at a time creeping into their beds as the late hours and busy schedules catch up them, and Yoongi sat, curled up on the couch thinking about, as he found himself doing more and more lately, Jimin.
Jimin and his soft cheeks and full lips and strong arms, small fingers on delicate hands somehow still managing to hold everything dropped into them on his own.
Yoongi brushed his teeth that night thinking about the way Jimin smiled around his own toothbrush, giggling at the way his mouth foamed at the edges. He heard footsteps outside the bathroom door, fumbling in the kitchen cabinets and the sink being turned on, and Yoongi quickly finished up, stepping into the bedroom and pulling off his shirt and cargo pants before crawling into bed, willing himself to fall asleep in case it was Namjoon that was up, not wanting to be scolded by his leader nearly 2 years younger than himself.
But moments later, the door opened again, a flash of light before it was closed behind him, and Yoongi instantly recognized the soft footsteps padding to his bed, and before Yoongi could stop himself, he was calling out his name.
Jimin turned at the whisper, blinking in the dark as his eyes adjusted. The faint moonlight shone in through a window and Yoongi admired Jimin, standing in the room with a glass of water in his hands, wrapped in Seokjin’s blue sweater and a pair of boxers, black hair shining blue as he looked around the room for Yoongi’s voice.
Yoongi leaned to the edge of his bed, holding his hand out to the younger boy and Jimin took it, warm fingers slipping into his as Yoongi guided Jimin into bed with him, sitting him down before pulling the blanket over the two of them. “Come here,” he whispered, motioning with his arm spread out on the bed, and Jimin let out a shaky breath as he settled closer, his head on Yoongi’s shoulder and his hand resting tentatively on the older’s hip.
Yoongi wrapped his hand around Jimin’s wrist, pulling his hand over to rest on his bare stomach, and Jimin sighed, his eyelashes brushing over Yoongi’s collarbones.
“Thanks, Yoongi hyung,” Jimin breathed, barely audible against Yoongi’s skin.
Yoongi hesitates before wrapping his arm tighter over Jimin, pressing his lips to Jimin’s forehead. “Do you want to talk to me about what’s going on?”
“It’s just all so much,” Jimin says after a pause. “I’m tired and I’m homesick and it just feels like a lot.”
Yoongi nodded. “It’s a lot for anyone. You’re doing really well.”
Jimin smiled against his chest. “Thanks, Hyung. I just..”
He hesitates. “I’m just.. I don’t know. I’m kind of.. lonely. I wish I had someone who loved me that I could love.”
The silence hangs heavy in the air and Jimin holds his breath, shifting slightly to look up at Yoongi, gauging his expression.
Yoongi lets his eyes flutter shut and he rubs his thumb over the space between Jimin’s neck and shoulder and Jimin visibly relaxes, his sweater shifting to the side. Yoongi holds back a shiver as Jimin finally exhales across his chest.
Yoongi stares up into the ceiling, removing his hand from Jimin’s shoulder as to not freak him out with the words that come tumbling out of his mouth next.
“I love you, you know.”
Jimin giggles beneath him and Yoongi furrows his brows, lifting his head off the pillow to look down at the younger.
“I know, Hyung, but you know what I mean. I want someone to be mine, someone that I can hold.”
I’m holding you now, Yoongi thinks bitterly. He forces out a laugh and puts his hand back on Jimin’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”
He almost falls asleep in the minutes of silence that follow, but Jimin traces shapes onto the skin over his ribs and lets out a soft sigh. “I love you, too, Hyung.” And Yoongi manages to stay awake long enough to pull Jimin tighter against his chest, his hair tickling against the side of his face.
I would be yours, Yoongi thinks before falling asleep. He dreams that night of a Jimin who not just smiles, but smiles for him, his fingers tangled within his own.
It was four days later before Yoongi got the chance to be alone with Jimin again, and while Jimin sobbed in his lap, something inside Yoongi ached and his heart broke at the thought of Jimin not thinking he was good enough, he couldn’t help feeling smug that Jimin had ran into his arms first.
It had begun innocently enough, the maknae line sitting on the floor of the living room, talking about foods they wish they were allowed to eat as Seokjin and Hoseok watched something on TV.
“I want Chinese. Fried rice and stirfry and all that shit.” Jeongguk said, laying on his back with his legs tucked Indian-style underneath him.
“Language,” snapped Seokjin, eyes not moving from the television.
Taehyung laughed. “When we were in America, Hoseok hyung and I had this really good pasta-type dish, with lots of cheese, it was really good. What was that, Hobi?”
Hoseok smiled. “Macaroni and cheese. It wasn’t that great, Taehyungie.” He laughed, turning to Seokjin. “It’s just this dish you buy like a dollar a box. We made that stuff like every night.”
“Macaroni,” Taehyung said slowly, making a face as the foreign word rolled around his mouth. He smiled brightly. “I want to live on that stuff.”
Jeongguk giggled. “What about you, Jiminie?”
Jimin sighed, standing back against the wall and rubbing his stomach. “I want cupcakes And donuts with chocolate milk. And that really good cereal Namjoon hyung used to get, before our new diet was arranged.”
“God, Jiminie, just eat all the food, why don’t you?” Jeongguk snorted, Yoongi walking in the door behind him, playing on his phone. “No wonder you’re so chubby,” he continued, poking Jimin’s stomach.
Jimin shifted uncomfortably, batting Jeongguk’s hands away. “Don’t call me that, Jeonggukkie.”
Jeongguk rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a bitch, Jimin. Everybody knows that you’re the fattest in the group.”
Jimin’s lip began to quiver, holding a hand over his mouth to hide it and Taehyung glared at the younger boy, Seokjin and Hoseok both shouting rapidly at Jeongguk. Yoongi stormed over, shoving his phone in his pocket and kneeling down, grabbing the collar of Jeongguk’s shirt and pulling roughly.
“You do not speak to your hyungs like that. You do not speak disrespectfully, you do not touch them when they don’t want you to, and you do not talk to Jimin like that,” Yoongi snarled. “You keep your hands away from him, you keep your words to yourself, you don’t look at him wrong or I will fuck you up. Do you understand?”
Jeongguk nodded, looking down.
Yoongi stood up, dragging Jeongguk with him, awkwardly finding his footing before the older let go of his shirt. “Apologize to Jimin hyung,” Yoongi said, motioning to the boy standing by the wall, tears rolling down his cheeks, Taehyung sitting at his feet and stroking his legs gently.
Jeongguk turned, his own lip trembling as he muttered an apology. “I’m so sorry Jimin hyung, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was just teasing and shouldn’t have said what I did.”
Jimin nodded slowly and Seokjin spoke up. “Gukkie, go downstairs and practice yesterday’s choreography. Don’t come back up until Namjoon goes to get you.”
Jeongguk nods and mumbles another ‘sorry’ in Jimin’s direction before picking up his bag on the end of the couch and leaving the dorm, slamming the door behind him, cheeks flaming red.
Jimin sobs and Taehyung moves out of the way as he stumbles forward into Yoongi’s arms, Yoongi holding him tight and running a hand down his hair as Jimin buries his face in his neck. Seokjin and Hoseok look the two of them up and down, grinning smugly and Yoongi gives them the finger, whispering to Jimin, “Come on, let’s going to the bedroom, yeah?” and Jimin nods weakly, still clutching Yoongi’s sweater as he trails behind him into the room, collapsing on Yoongi’s bed.
Yoongi sits down, pulling Jimin onto his lap, resting their foreheads together as he runs his hands down Jimin’s back, pushing up the hem of his shirt to scratch and rub and knead and the smooth expanse of skin, Jimin relaxing under his touch. “I’m so sorry, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi grumbles, still livid at Jeongguk, but Jimin’s soft touches of his hands on the sides of his neck bringing him down, grounding him. “You don’t ever deserve to be treated like that, ever. God.”
Jimin hiccupps, tears still rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t even know why I’m crying, I’m sorry, hyung.”
Yoongi frowned. “You don’t ever have to apologize for the way you’re feeling, Jimin. Not to me. And what Jeongguk said was so far out of line, I swear to-“
“But I’ve got no excuse to be crying, I should be used to it by now. It’s not like anything Jeongguk said wasn’t true.”
Yoongi groans, grabbing the front of Jimin’s shirt. “No, no no no. You’re perfect, Jimin, you’re so perfect.” Jimin looks at him with wide eyes and Yoongi smiled lazily, bringing his hands up to his face to wipe his tears away. “I’m serious. You’re hot as fuck, Park Jimin. Don’t ever change.”
Jimin grins, his eyes disappearing behind his cheeks as a red flush spread across his face. His laugh was loud and unabashed and happy and it felt good.
Yoongi smiles back at him, slowly sliding his hand down the younger’s neck, resting on his shoulder. “Does Jeongguk tease you like that often?”
Jimin hesitated, looking off to the side before nodding. “Please don’t yell at him more, I don’t want him to hate you because of me.”
Yoongi shook his head. “No. But I will bring it up to Namjoon, okay?”
Yoongi held him close, his arms around the small of his back and Jimin’s arms draped over Yoongi’s shoulders. They sat there like that until Jimin’s tears ran dry, quietly hiccupping as his breathing calmed down, fingers playing absently in the hair at the nape of Yoongi’s neck. Suddenly the door swung open and Jimin squeaks, practically jumping in Yoongi’s lap and swinging around to see Hoseok standing in the doorway.
“Oh, sorry, I, uh-um, I don’t-“ Hoseok stuttered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt-“
“Get on with it, Hobi, we weren’t doing anything.” Yoongi snaps, grip tightening on Jimin’s hip.
“No, I mean, I know you don’t, you two, weren’t like, doing something.” He paused. “You weren’t, were you?“ Yoongi glared and Hoseok shook himself, staring at the floor before looking back up at the two, a pleasant smile on his face. “Dinner will be served shortly.” He held back a giggle and bowed out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
Jimin turned back to Yoongi, avoiding eye contact in favor of staring at Yoongi’s hand still wrapped tight around his hip, Yoongi noticing and letting go quickly. “We should probably go out there; you’re getting too old to be sitting on my lap anyway.”
Jimin laughed nervously, sliding off his hyungs lap and straightening his legs as he stood up. “Yeah, of course, hyung,” he muttered, waiting for Yoongi to stand up too, making their way to the door together. But before Jimin could walk out the door, before Yoongi lost his nerve and before Jimin left just to tip-toe around him for another week before he got another chance to talk to him, he stopped him, curling his fingers around Jimin’s wrist.
Jimin turned, looking at Yoongi expectantly. “Jimin-ah, why don’t you let your hyung take his favorite dongsaeng shopping this weekend?” Jimin smiled and Yoongi pulled his arm toward him, taking Jimin’s hand in both of his. “Hyung wants to spoil you. I’ll even buy you lunch.” Yoongi pouted, pulling his best puppy-dog face that Jimin wore so well when he wanted something. “Please?” He held Jimin’s hand beneath his chin and cocked his head to the side, pushing out his lower lip.
Jimin laughed brightly, pulling his hand out of Yoongi’s grip and shoving Yoongi’s forehead. “Aigoo, what is this? You’re so cute, hyung,” he teased. “Of course I’ll go with you.” Yoongi grinned and shoved Jimin’s shoulder back, walking behind him out of the room.
It was quiet as they made their way down the hall, but Yoongi’s hand brushed Jimin’s as they walked close together and Jimin reached around, entwining his fingers with his hyungs’ and Yoongi squeezed gently, looking down at his feet to hide a soft smile as they walked into the dining room. There, they parted ways to sit on opposite sides of the floor around the coffee table, Jimin slowly sitting down next to Taehyung, who greeted him with an arm around his shoulder, and Yoongi sits between Seokjin and Hoseok, trying to ignore them elbowing him in the side and the smug grins shot his way.
And even though Jimin was quiet all through dinner, Yoongi didn’t miss the soft smiles he cast as he stared down into his food. He didn’t miss the soft sighs and the giggling around his glass of water, and he definitely didn’t miss the shy smiles Jimin shot across the table at Yoongi when he caught him looking.
I would be yours, Yoongi thought, as Jimin got up to wash his dishes in the sink. I would spoil you every chance I got, I would hold your hand, hold you when you cry and I would be yours.
A couple hours later Namjoon approached Yoongi, one hand on his hyung’s shoulder, containers of food stacked in the other. “Seokjin set aside dinner for me to take down to Kookie, walk with me?”
Yoongi nodded, pulling on shoes and holding the door open for Namjoon, walking out behind him.
“Seokjin told me what happened today.”
His tone wasn’t accusatory, almost conversational. Yoongi was always amazed at how Namjoon was able to keep all the boys in line, even being younger than half of them, and keep perfect patience. But Yoongi knew he was expecting an answer.
“Look, if you want me to apologize-“ Yoongi started, but Namjoon cut him off.
“I’m not asking you to, Hyung. Jeongguk was out of line today, and you called him on it. You might’ve been a little harsh,” Namjoon said, his voice still calm, and Yoongi grimaced. “But Jeongguk and the rest of the boys have learned to expect that from you. It was nothing he didn’t have coming.”
Namjoon paused as a group of trainees passed by, stopping their conversation to bow to Namjoon and Yoongi, and Namjoon nodded before continuing. “I actually wanted to thank you for watching out for Jimin.”
Yoongi coughed awkwardly and Namjoon shot him a smirk. “Not a lot of us have had the patience or the energy to give Jimin the attention he needs right now. And I know how you care about Jimin.”
Yoongi hesitated. “Of course, Joonie. He’s a good kid.”
Namjoon laughed, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. “Let me rephrase; I know how much you care about Jimin.” He shot Yoongi a meaningful look and continued when he didn’t say anything.
“If you tell Jimin how you feel about him, he’s going to rely on that. And I know you will, but I’m obligated to tell you that if you promise to take care of Jimin, you need to follow through on that. For his sake, for everyone’s sake. Jimin’s heart isn’t something to be toyed around with, Hyung, and if we, as a group, fall apart, a lot of those boys aren’t going to get a second chance.” Namjoon stopped outside the door to the dance studio, the bass pounding behind the door. Yoongi could see Jeongguk on the other side of the window, pausing his routine to take a swig of his water, sweat matting his fringe to his forehead. “Be careful, Yoongi.”
Yoongi nodded slowly. “I will, Namjoon. I promise.”
Namjoon smiled, reaching out to squeeze Yoongi’s shoulder before turning to the dance studio. “I’ll see you back at the dorm, hyung. You take care of Jimin however you can, and I’ll take care of him however I can, by dealing with this brat,” he called, opening the door. Jeongguk snickered at Namjoon and noticed Yoongi behind him, nodding solemnly and Yoongi nodded back.
Jeongguk was an okay kid; he decided as he took the walk back home, he just has a mouth that spits out words faster than his brain can process them. Like Yoongi. ‘An incurable affliction,’ Seokjin calls it, as Yoongi tells him about it that night.
The other boys were already in bed, Namjoon and Jeongguk still at the dance studio, and Yoongi lays on the couch with his head on his only hyung’s lap, Seokjin scratching his fingers through his scalp and down his back.
“Jimin-ah told me you were taking him out this weekend. He’s really excited, you know.” Seokjin cooed, tickling the younger’s neck. “You really like him, don’t you?”
Yoongi shifted in Seokjin’s lap, burrowing his head into his stomach.
“I know you’re not asleep, you brat.”
Yoongi sighed, flipping his head to rest on Seokjin’s thighs. “Yes,” he sighed.
Seokjin squealed. “You two will be so cute together. Of course, little Jiminie would be cute with anyone, but your personalities contrast really nicely.”
Yoongi snorted, reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “There’s no ‘will’, Jin, and there’s no ‘together’. I don’t even think Jimin knows. I mean, sometimes I think he likes me, but then… I don’t know. He keeps talking about this person that he’ll be with in the future, and he hasn’t even looked at me.”
Seokjin pauses. “What does he say about this person?” He says finally, looking down at Yoongi in his lap.
“He says he wants someone who will hold him and love him and make him feel not so homesick. Someone that tells him he’s good and that he’s pretty and that he’s enough. He talks with Taehyung, about his ideal love story being getting to love one person his whole life.”
“God, he really does deserve all those things,” he sighs. “He’s such a great kid. But Yoongi?” Seokjin asks, turning to the younger.
“Will you hold him and love him, and do your best to make him feel at home?”
Yoongi sighs. “I do, hyung,” he whimpers.
Seokjin smiles, petting the fringe out of Yoongi’s eyes. “Will you tell him that he’s pretty and that he’s enough?”
“I feel like I’m saying my vows,” Yoongi grumbles, scowling up at Seokjin and Seokjin laughs. “Of course, hyung.”
Seokjin moves to sit up, and Yoongi moves his head, sitting up on the couch and Seokjin squats down on the floor in front of him, grabbing his hands and looking at him with nothing but fondness for the younger. “Then you’re going to be just fine, Yoongi. I promise, you’re all he really wants. Now, come on,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Let’s get to sleep so Namjoon doesn’t have to lecture you about it when he gets home.”
Yoongi pushed Seokjin to turn around, flinging himself over his back and wrapping his arms around his hyung’s shoulders and Seokjin hitched his legs around his waist, piggy-backing Yoongi to the bedroom, trying (and failing) to not wake up the other boys as Seokjin carried Yoongi through the door.
“So… about you and Namjoon,” Yoongi began.
“We’re not going there, Yoongi-ah, be quiet before you wake up Taehyung.”
“Seokjin hyung? Can I have a piggyback ride?”
“Go the fuck to sleep, Taehyung.”
Yoongi was a bit of a nervous wreck on the days leading up to that Saturday. Jimin left early in the morning to get some practice in, but it was discussed that they would meet at 11 am outside Jimin’s favorite snapback store in the outdoor shopping mall.
As he showered that morning, before rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, he picked up Jimin’s body wash, a purple container next to Seokjin’s pink one in a sea of electric blue and dark grey bottles and tubes littering the shower walls.
He popped open the top, holding it up to his nose and sniffing, and Yoongi couldn’t help the way he smiled, the overwhelming sent of Jimin filling his nose, like blueberries and frosting and he knew there was no way Jimin picked this up anywhere but in the women’s section. Yoongi’s laugh echoed through the shower. He used Jimin’s body wash that morning.
Yoongi was never one to stress about dates. No, casual hangouts with close friends, who maybe happened to be really hot. It wasn’t a big deal. Really.
But he couldn’t help pulling out and shoving back in everything in his closet. This was stupid. He was a guy; all his stuff pretty much looked the same anyway, right? Jimin wouldn’t care what he wore but Yoongi still wanted to impress him all the same. At that moment Seokjin walked down the hall, and Yoongi turned with a start, snapping his fingers to get his attention. “Seokjin hyung!” he whispered.
Seokjin walked past, backtracking a few steps before stopping in the doorway. “Aw,” he cooed. “Is Yoongi getting ready for his date?”
Yoongi scowled and threw him the finger before sticking his head back into his closet. “It’s not a date, we’ve had this discussion before.”
Seokjin frowned. “Have we?”
Yoongi paused, pulling his head of the closet with an exasperated expression. “No, not you, I’ve had this discussion... With myself. It’s not important.”
Seokjin smiled as Yoongi ducked back out of site, pulling out two hoodie out with him, both with the exact same logo, but one said Parental Guidance and one said One of a Kind. Seokjin pointed towards the one in Yoongi’s right hand. “Go with the G-Dragon one, Jimin will appreciate that. What shirt are you wearing?”
Yoongi shrugged, looking back towards their closet.
“Do you know what his favorite color is?”
“Blue,” Yoongi replied, without hesitation.
Seokjin nodded, smiling to himself. “Of course you would know that,” he muttered, barely audible.
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Hyung, I don’t own any blue...”
Seokjin motioned forward, leading Yoongi down the hall to the living room. “Hoseok-ah, that blue v-neck you wore last week with Namjoon, is that clean? Can Yoongi borrow it?”
Taehyung walked in carrying a bowl of popcorn, falling back against the couch next to Hoseok. “Oh, is hyung getting ready for his date with Jiminie?”
“How does literally everyone know about that?” Yoongi sputtered, flailing his arms helplessly.
“Namjoon hyung gathered us for a meeting over breakfast.” Taehyung said seriously.
Hoseok chuckled, rolling his eyes. “He’s kidding. Jimin was really excited about it, that’s all.” He turned to Seokjin. “That shirt isn’t even mine, I borrowed it from Taehyung.”
Tae nodded next to him, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, and of course only then did he respond around the mouth full of food. “Yeah, it’s mine. You can borrow it; it’s on my bed with the rest of the clean laundry.”
Seokjin nodded gratefully, turning back towards the room, his hand on Yoongi’s elbow to keep him nearby. “Ah, here it is,” he said, turning around from Taehyung’s already horribly messy bed, neatly unfolding said shirt, handing it to Yoongi.
It really was a nice shirt, a pretty shade of heathered cornflower blue and a deep v-neckline. Yoongi slipped off the shirt he had slept in, pulling on the new shirt and it was soft and worn-in and it felt nice against his skin. Yoongi smiled. “Thanks, hyung. THANKS, TAEHYUNG,” he shouted back out the door, and Taehyung raised his hand in a salute from the couch.
Seokjin stepped back, appraising, and nodded happily with a thumbs-up. He walked over to Yoongi’s side of the closet, pulling out a pair of ripped up blue jeans and shoving them into Yoongi’s arms. They were a pair he had had forever, faded with holes in the knees but still comfortable as hell.
“Here, put these on, you’ll look good. When I’m gone, please, don’t change your pants right now.”
Yoongi laughed as Seokjin backed out the door, ruffling his hair as he went. “Thanks for everything, hyung, really.”
Seokjin gave one more thumbs up with a wink as he rounded the corner into the hall.
“You’ll be fine, Yoongi,” he called from the hall. “Remember what I told you, you’re all he really wants.”
It was cold. He should’ve seen that coming, but it’s like 40-something degrees and it’s biting and miserable and everyone around him is wearing coats, he really should have worn jeans without so many holes, at least. And he doesn’t know what he thought he would gain by coming here with Jimin, doesn’t know if he’ll have the courage to say what he desperately wants to say to him, he shouldn’t have come here at all at this point.
He starts thinking maybe he should go back home and call Jimin to cancel before it’s too late, but the thought doesn’t make it halfway through his head before he turns around and there he is. Suddenly Yoongi forgets the cold and forgets the aching in his chest, forgets that he didn’t remember gloves and that his fingers are falling off, forgets that he ever wanted to go home. Jimin is practically running down the sidewalk to him, leaping left and right and dodging unsuspecting shoppers on the street to get to Yoongi. Jimin catches him in a hug, nearly knocking him over, reminding Yoongi of an overexcited puppy and Yoongi laughs into Jimin’s shoulder before prying him off, looking him up and down.
Jimin was in tight black jeans and knee-high black converse, grey v-neck peeking out from his leather jacket, cold under Yoongi’s fingertips, but Yoongi could feel Jimin’s warmth radiating inside. He cheeks were rosy from the cold and his hair stuck up in the back, he had obviously run home to take a shower, the wind drying his still-damp hair in every direction.
“You can’t keep tackling me like this, Jimin-ah,” he says eventually, clapping the younger on the shoulder with a teasing smile. “I’m an old man, remember?”
Jimin laughs, his eyes disappearing behind his cheeks as he wraps his arms protectively around Yoongi, shielding him from the wind. “Oh, we must get this poor old man out from the cold! Inside, quickly!”
Yoongi giggles like he only does when he’s around Jimin, walking with him into the nearest store. The warm hits them as the door shuts behind them and Jimin drops his arms to his sides, flashing a smile at Yoongi before skipping further into the store, admiring the displays and humming to himself. Yoongi watched him pitter around the store, every now and then trying something on and turning back to show Yoongi, who would smile and thumbs up. He looked cute in everything.
After Jimin knocked over what he believed to be the fourth display, Jimin came bounding back over, a snapback in hand with English lettering across the front.
“Yoongi hyung, what does this one say?”
Yoongi took the hat and sounded out the letters in his head, praising whatever gods were listening that it was a word he recognized. “It says Boyfriend,” Yoongi said, passing the hat back to the younger. “It means, uh, namja chingu.”
Jimin took the hat, setting the hat on his head as he smiled to himself. “Ooh, I want this one, hyung. Will you buy it for me?”
Yoongi nods and smiles, because of course, of course he would, when Jimin looks at him like that, with that smile and those eyes.
They end up going to several stores that day, Yoongi buying Jimin whatever he worked up the nerve to ask his hyung to buy for him and some things for himself, the both of them carrying enough bags to weigh their arms down as they finally collapsed on a bench along the sidewalk.
“Is this good? Are you having an okay time?” Yoongi asked tentatively.
Jimin smiled so big Yoongi forgot about the clouds that covered the sun that day. “I’m having the best day, hyung, thank you so much for taking me out.”
Yoongi smiled down at his hands, tangled in his lap, rubbed red from carrying bags all day, now sitting under the bench. “Look, I know I said I would buy you lunch, but it’s still early, and I’m not super hungry yet. Would you mind if I took you someplace to get a snack?” he looked up to gauge Jimin’s expression, which was curious. “There’s someplace I’d like to show you.”
Jimin stood in front of the display window, his jaw hanging open, with Yoongi’s temple leaning on his shoulder.
“Hyung, they’re the size of my head.” He whispered, as though he was afraid that if he were any louder they might get even bigger.
“Do you want one?” Yoongi asked, knowing full well he did. At this rate Jimin was bound to start drooling on his head.
“Y-yeah.” Jimin stuttered, voice still hushed. Yoongi chuckled and took Jimin’s hand, walking into the bakery dragging the younger behind him.
Yoongi ended up sitting across from Jimin at a small table at the far end of the bakery, smelling of freshly baked cakes and cookies straight out the oven. Jimin, fork in hand and icing smeared on his lips, was devouring a massive cupcake that, believe it or not, actually was roughly the size of the boy’s head. It was funfetti flavored cake with pretty swirls of pink frosting on top, and it was half gone already.
Yoongi had begun eating his with his hands, only about a quarter of it missing as Yoongi pinched little bits of chocolate cake and fudge frosting into his mouth.
“Can I try some of yours?” Yoongi asked, and Jimin smiled, holding his fork out to Yoongi and Yoongi leaned across the table, wrapping his lips around the bite of cake and pulled off, nodding to himself. “That’s some good shit,” he whispered, and Jimin giggled.
Yoongi tore a chunk of his own cupcake off with his fingers, making sure it had a decent amount of frosting on it before holding it out to Jimin, who held his mouth open and let Yoongi feed him.
Jimin nodded before swallowing. “So good.”
Yoongi pulled off his hoodie and stood up to set it on his chair before sitting back down on it and Jimin let his face rest in the palm of him hand, his elbow on the arm of his chair and his other hand toying with his fork.
“I like your shirt, hyung.” Jimin said, and Yoongi blushed as he mumbled out a quiet ‘thank you’. It was quiet for a moment.
“So, um, hyung,” Jimin began, and Yoongi leaned forward, arms crossed on the tabletop. “I was wondering, I, uh. I’m so sorry for bringing this up, and if the answer is no, of course not, then just pretend this didn’t happen, but…”
Yoongi nodded, urging him on, and Jimin smiled down at his lap before scrunching his face up and breathing deeply.
“Is this a date?”
Yoongi froze in his chair. Shit shit shit. There’s no fucking way he can do this. He’s about to either run out of the shop and all the way home or shrug it off casually and then faint in his chair. But then he looks up, sees Jimin looking at him through his eyelashes, his face innocent and sweet and almost… hopeful.
“Are… you okay with that?” Yoongi says finally.
Jimin blushes deeply, and his next words are barely audible over the sounds of the bakery around them, Yoongi wouldn’t of heard if he hadn’t been listening so intently.
“I really like you, Yoongi hyung.”
Yoongi nearly faints right there, flustered as he buries his head in his arms, sitting back up with the biggest smile he thinks he’s ever had. And before he can stop himself, he finds himself reciting the speech he murmurs to himself every night before he falls asleep. The same speech running through his mind every time he sees Jimin smile that smile, the one that makes his eyes disappear into crescents behind his cheeks and takes up his whole body. The same speech that he hears whispered in the rain falling and the wind howling and the leaves rustling in the trees.
“Jimin, I know you want someone who will love you and hold you and make you feel at home. I know you’re looking for that someone and I know that that person is out there. But I also know that if you let me, I would love you with everything I have, and I would hold you every chance I got, and I would do my best to make you feel at home. I want to be your home, and I don’t know if there still is someone else out there who is better suited for the job, but, maybe I’m that person,” he said, his voice getting quieter and quieter as he went on, a near whisper as he said the last line he knew by heart. “Jimin, if you would have me, I would be yours.”
That feeling in his chest, that ached in the best way, that was what Yoongi felt when Jimin looked at him. When he smiled at him, when he touched him. Yoongi thought that was the best feeling in the world. He wanted to sleep and breath and live in that feeling.
But Yoongi came to know that he was wrong. Jimin straddling his legs, rocking in his lap, kissing him in earnest with fervor and passion and his hands tangled in Yoongi’s hair; that was the best feeling. Getting to fall asleep with Jimin in his arms, his soft skin under Yoongi’s fingertips, Jimin’s full lips pressed against his neck; that was the best feeling. Massaging shampoo into his thick hair and rubbing body wash into his supple skin, pliant under his hands, Jimin’s eyes fluttering shut as he pushed him under the stream of water to rinse him off, Jimin pushing him back against the shower wall in return before dropping to his knees; that was the best feeling. The look in Jimin’s eyes when Yoongi buried himself deep inside him, that was the best feeling.
But the way Yoongi shivered every time Jimin mouthed at his neck, kissing and licking his way up his jawline, nipping at his ear and whispering, “I love you,”
That was what made life worth living.
As long as you’ll have me, I will be yours.