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I'll give you the sun

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“Some people are born with tornadoes in their lives,

but constellations in their eyes.

Other people are born with stars at their feet,

but their souls are lost at sea.”


Yoongi thinks that his soul must be tethered to a rock out at sea because he feels distant, like he’s in too big of a place and all alone. The sea does that to you. Occupying one of the largest offices in the building’s top floor shouldn’t give one the feeling of being lost at sea, though, but the only good thing about this office is the glass windows – he can perfectly see the clouds from up here.

The sky is blue and a large wave crashes into his heart.

There’s something about the sun that captivates him. Isn’t it a thing of wonder for the Earth to be rotating around a great big ball of fire? Some days, Yoongi will curse at the heat, hates how it makes him sweat through his dress shirt sometimes, but on most days, Yoongi will squint up at the sky and smile at it.

He realised early in his life that it is far more reassuring to trust in the sun than to make friends with the moon and the stars.

The sun is powerful and is always shining someplace else. It’s always morning somewhere. The stars and the moon – they’re always in the sky and visible at night, sometimes early in the morning, depending on where you are, but here in Seoul where the city lights threaten to blind even the normal pedestrian, the moon and the stars don’t stand a chance.

And Yoongi has always allied himself with the strong, the blistering heat only a minor problem. When the sun is your best friend, it’s only natural to fall in love with the human reincarnation of sunshine.

He stares out the window of his office, a bitter little smile on his face as he looks up at the bright blue sky.

The ocean in his heart is threatening to pull him under, the rope keeping him tied around the rock flimsy.

It has been three months since Park Jimin left their once shared apartment, all the things he managed grab with him stuffed in two bags.

It has been three months since Park Jimin left their once shared apartment, taking with him his clothes, some books, the CDs he always listens to, and the sun.

It has been three months since Park Jimin left their once shared apartment and Min Yoongi is stuck, day in and day out, in a world where the sun shines dully just behind the clouds.

For a man who has loved the sun, who has thrived in its warmth, Min Yoongi is surprisingly devoid of it.

But Park Jimin’s steps are light, his smile bright, laugh tinkling, and once Yoongi had wondered if it were possible for somebody to be made out of sunshine.

Jimin had answered his silent question with a laugh that he’d hidden in Yoongi’s chest, his lips grazing down his neck when he said, in a whisper, that it should be or else it’s not fair how Yoongi walks on starlight, the moon always smiling down on him and the stars twinkling, laughing high up in the sky just for him.

The sun is his best friend and like a lot of friends during a bad breakup, it took a side. It left with Park Jimin that one Thursday morning in January.

When Jimin left him three months ago and looked at him with a sadness in his eyes too much for a boy so young like him to carry, Yoongi saw, behind the glistening of tears, the sun setting just as Jimin had shut his eyes tight, not even able to look at Yoongi for long anymore.

When he lies awake in a bed that he hadn’t slept in alone for close to six years, Yoongi asks himself how it was possible for Jimin to hold all of the sun in his fingertips and wonders, three months too late, why Jimin would take the sun with him when he knew Yoongi loved it too much.

But maybe that’s what happens to the things you love – one way or another, sooner or later, it’ll just slip from your fingertips and the boy you thought you’d be waking up to every morning for all the mornings to come in your life has already walked out the room, the door clicking to a close behind him.

The most painful thing Yoongi has to endure every morning is the opening of his closet. Half of it is empty but a few stray shirts of Jimin’s are stuffed in Yoongi’s side, probably by mistake, or probably because Yoongi had always liked to sleep in Jimin’s shirts. He doesn’t now, though, because it still faintly smells of Jimin.

Park Jimin hadn’t only taken a few of his things with him, he’d taken a part of Yoongi, too. There’s a medical term for amputee victims who feel like their lost limb was still attached to them, still working – it’s called phantom limb. Yoongi’s heart is still beating but he’s pretty sure Jimin left with it three months ago.

Just as he stands up to finally leave work, his secretary slips in through the door, gives him a polite bow, and says, clipboard in hand, that his friend is outside waiting for him.

“Which one is it this time?” Three months into the breakup and his friends hadn’t stopped pestering him. Of course, it’s never a question of why they broke up or even how – none of that, they just try to draw him out. Just the other day Jeongguk had dropped by his office with a cheeky little smile and large, puppy dog eyes that begged for him to please, please take me out to lunch, hyung, please, I’m starving.

Yoongi had only gone out to lunch with the younger boy because he had skipped out on breakfast. Actually, Yoongi skips out on most meals, only eating when prompted, or when he gets far too hungry he can’t ignore it anymore.

He appreciates the effort – he’ll always appreciate his friends, but sometimes Yoongi just wishes they’d leave him alone.

“It’s Mr. Kim Seokjin,” She stands around in the middle of the room for a couple more seconds, waiting for Yoongi’s decision. When he nods and turns away from the door, she gives one final bow and hurries out. Nearly a second after her exit, Seokjin enters, eyes widening in a show of utter awe, and points at the windows.

“You really moved up, didn’t you?” Yoongi only rolls his eyes at the question but smirks, anyway, because he had. “Hey, Yoongi.”

“Amazing, they sent in the pacifier this time?” Yoongi props himself up on the edge of his desk and watches as Seokjin drops his suitcase and makes himself comfortable on the large couch right in front of Yoongi.

Seokjin laughs, “In the flesh,”

His friends really have thought this one visit through if they actually sent Kim Seokjin to talk to him, given that the other is quite busy himself, as well.

“To what do I owe this pleasant visit?” The way he says it has him tasting a sourness in his mouth that’s only brought about by the lie. Seokjin doesn’t miss it, eyes narrowing to look at Yoongi.

Seokjin leans back against the couch and sighs, “You look like you’ve lost a lot of weight,”

A smirk doesn’t grace his features, nor does he smile. Instead, he looks at Seokjin, thinks that it’s been almost a month since he’s last seen his friend, and that it’s really good to see a friendly face. Work has been nothing short of stressful and the penthouse he returns to doesn’t quite feel like home anymore. Just a structure of a house that had once housed two very happy people. Now it houses one Min Yoongi who often ends up sleeping curled on the foot of the bed, the curtains pulled so light streams directly into the room, yet even then the sun still isn’t warm enough.

“Have you been eating?” Seokjin pushes on, his gaze heavy with concern. “Have you even been sleeping?”

Yoongi shrugs, noncommittal.

“Yoongi,” He has two fingers rubbing at his temple, the sight of Yoongi giving him a headache already. “You can’t let yourself go like this,”

But he hasn’t, has he? He still manages to crawl out of bed, shower, pour himself a cup of coffee, and get dressed. He gets to work on time on most days and falls asleep late into the night on better days. When it’s hard, he doesn’t sleep a wink and comes into work earlier than most. On really tough days, Yoongi gets dressed and leaves just at the crack of dawn, makes his way up to his office and sits on his chair, looking out at the skyline as the sun slowly makes its way up the sky.

“I’m okay,” The lie is heavy on his tongue and tastes bitter in his mouth. Seokjin doesn’t buy it.

“No you’re not,” For the first time since he’d arrived, Seokjin’s characteristic gentle voice comes to play, and it works. It has Yoongi looking up from staring at his hands to the older boy sat across from him, stare boring straight into his soul. “And it’s okay not to be, Yoongi.”

A large wave crashes into his heart and he feels the rope threatening to snap. Yoongi blinks back, eyes starting to sting. He swallows past the jumbled words of why and manages to push back the tears. He will not cry, not in his fancy office, not when the sun is setting behind him, and not in front of a friend who’ll only needlessly worry for him.

“Why are you here?” It has taken him years in the corporate world to harness that kind of steel in his voice, a certain coldness and aloofness only settling on you after a lot of experience and harshness, and Min Yoongi is quite good at his job.

Seokjin almost looks insulted, hurt, but he knows Yoongi, knows that the cold harshness in his voice hides the cold, lonely feeling nesting inside of him.

“I’m here because you haven’t been answering any of our calls. We haven’t seen you in weeks, Yoongi.”

“I just had lunch with Jeongguk the other day,” Yoongi retaliates with a proud little sniff, not one to back down in an argument specifically brought up to make him lose.

“That went well, didn’t it? Jeongguk told me you helped yourself to a bottle of wine and a plate of cheese,” Now it’s Seokjin’s turn to get angry, his words sharp.

Yoongi stares at his hands and remembers to never take Jeongguk to such an expensive restaurant if all he gets after is a lot of judgement. “We had lunch, conversed, and that’s about it. What else happens during these lunches?”

“You’re impossible,” Seokjin says through gritted teeth.

Yeah, he’s not too far off. If Yoongi wasn’t alwats trying to achieve the impossible then things would have turned out differently.

“I’m not here to deal with your attitude,” Finally, Seokjin pushes himself off the couch, and with Yoongi still propped on his desk, the other boy looms over him, tall and intimidating, especially with the way he’s glaring at Yoongi. “The rest of us are getting drinks this Friday and all I’m asking you to do is show up,”

“The rest of us?” Yoongi repeats, a twisting sensation in his gut.

Seokjin runs a hand through his hair, obviously past the point of caring about style when it’s almost seven in the evening and there aren’t any more important people to meet and play civil at with, “Yeah, every one of us. Do you still remember your friends, Yoongi?”

This isn’t fair, Seokjin’s not supposed to bite back at him when all Yoongi’s done is bark. Seokjin’s not supposed to be mean because he’s never been mean. Seokjin was the first person who’d come to him after hearing about the breakup, a bag of groceries in hand and a forced smile on his face. Seokjin isn’t supposed to be talking so harshly at him like this and once upon a time, Yoongi would’ve bitten back, but he just feels so tired right now that he backs out of it.

Once upon a time, Yoongi would’ve said yes to the offer of drinks with the rest of their friends.

Once upon a time, Yoongi would’ve actually had time to go out.

Once upon a time, Yoongi didn’t have to wonder about who would be in attendance.

But that time has long since passed and Yoongi is left with a skeleton that fears the dark, and the peculiar sensation of a phantom limb for the heart he once held in his possession.

“Jimin’s going to be there and so are you,” Seokjin gathers his coat and straightens up to his full height. “I’m going to tell everyone you’re going to come,”

Without waiting for his reply, Seokjin turns around and walks out of the room, door slamming behind him.

Yoongi falls back on the table, a couple of pens clattering to the ground and important documents falling off. He lies on top of his desk, eyes staring at the grey ceiling and not at the sunset behind him, never at the sunset because the sunset is the way Jimin's eyes had looked when he’d said goodbye.


Friday night comes and Yoongi ignores the endless buzzing of his phone and the blast of texts from his friends.

Friday night comes and Yoongi sits inside of his expensive car in traffic, thinking, and not for the first time, of how easy things had been before.

Friday night comes and finds Yoongi out the balcony of his expensive penthouse, staring down at one of Seoul’s most expensive neighbourhoods, and smoking a cigarette that burns at his throat, the smoke wrapping itself around his heart.

Friday night comes and goes and Yoongi only falls asleep when the sun begins to rise and he’s run out of cigarettes.


Somebody’s knocking.

Somebody’s banging on the door. Really, really loudly.

He hears his name being called, over and over again, and Yoongi surfaces from his sleep, eyes opening. He’d fallen asleep outside, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. His neck hurts from sleeping at such an awkward position but his skin feels warm, so he ignores the pain from his neck, the heaviness in his chest, and the knocking at his door.

The intercom has been ringing the whole morning but Yoongi has managed to successfully ignore it. What he can’t ignore, though, is the sound of the right passcode being punched in and his door opening.

“Min fucking Yoongi,” A loud, booming voice, pierces through the silence.

Yoongi waits outside the balcony, knees drawn up as he stares out at the sky, the sun shining brightly but not harshly. He doesn’t have to look behind him to know who’s just broken into his house because a second later, Hoseok has got a hand in his hair, fingers tugging harshly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Hoseok practically snarls at him, his eyes the angriest Yoongi’s ever seen.

He blinks at him, finds that he’s blocking the sun. He hates Hoseok momentarily for that and thinks that it should be him screaming the question out angrily.

“Ouch, that hurts,” He swats at Hoseok’s hand and Hoseok’s fingers only tighten in the clump of hair he’s got a hold of, making Yoongi wince. “Jung Hoseok, I’m going to push you off this fucking balcony if you don’t let up,”

The threat works because Hoseok is dropping his hand but not the glare.

Yoongi gets up from the bench and walks back into the house, Hoseok following behind him. When they reach the kitchen, Hoseok rounds on him again, still mad.

“What’s your deal, Yoongi?” Hoseok asks, tone harsh.

This is exactly the kind of attitude he’d always expected of Hoseok. What surprises Yoongi, though, is that it took Hoseok three months to react like this.

“Sorry, the house isn’t ready for guests,” Yoongi excuses himself with a one-shoulder shrug, the look on his face blatantly screaming that he’s anything but sorry. “What are you doing here?”

“Bullshit,” Hoseok spats, hand going into his own hair to pull at it, probably to prevent himself from doing the same to Yoongi. Probably to calm himself. “None of us has seen you in months and the one time we’re all free, you don’t show up.”

Yoongi looks at him for a moment, assesses the situation, before he goes and says, very offhandedly, “I’m really sorry to have ruined your night with my absence,”

Hoseok rolls his eyes and takes long strides, pacing the kitchen. “Fuck, Yoongi, what else do you want us to do?”

Nothing, Yoongi thinks.

He doesn’t answer.

“We’re your friends,” Hoseok’s voice has gone from angry to almost sounding like a whine, “I’m your best friend,”

Yoongi knows that, of course he does.

He doesn’t answer.

“Give us at least a chance to be friends to you,” Hoseok goes on, hands held in either side of him in exasperation. “I have been worried out of my fucking mind for you. Every time you answer the call, all I hear is somebody else, not you. You’ve been holed up in this god damn house for so fucking long, it’s not healthy.”

Yoongi knows that, too.

He doesn’t answer.

“Okay, let’s do it like this. If you can tell me you’re okay, and actually believe it, then I won’t bother you about this anymore.” Hoseok says, voice unkind. “I’ll even make tea for you. Make sure that lie sounds damn believable,”

Yoongi isn’t okay and Hoseok knows that.

Hoseok is expecting an answer, though.

“I want matcha,”

Hoseok is opening the cupboard filled with to the brim with tea packs and powder. He turns, looks at Yoongi with a fiery red intensity in his eyes, and says, his voice much softer now, “Yeah, I know.”

Yoongi doesn’t understand how Hoseok can still be so kind to him given all the weeks he’d ignored him and practically three months of constantly trying to avoid him – trying to avoid the rest of their friends, too.

He accepts the cup of tea from Hoseok, cradles it in his hands,and marvels at how warm the cup is from the boiling water, before nodding his thanks at Hoseok.

Hoseok is expecting an answer and Yoongi doesn’t quite know what to tell him, if he’s being honest.

But it’s been three months and Yoongi still isn’t on the road to actual recovery and he just feels sick – sick at himself for being such a fucking sap, sick because he’s practically walled himself up after Jimin had left, and it’s not fucking fair for Jimin to have taken the sun with him and left Yoongi with the stars he can’t even see here in pathetic Seoul city.

He wants to run at Jimin’s new flat and scream outside his apartment, and demand for the sun back because the stars might be beautiful but they twinkle with a light from a thousand years ago – they’re long gone, just like Jimin.

“Hoseok,” Yoongi starts, cup pushed to the side. He reaches for Hoseok and manages to grab his wrist, thin fingers curling around it. “I’m sorry,”

There is a sadness in Hoseok’s gaze that makes Yoongi hate himself.

There is a sadness in Hoseok’s voice when he says, “You don’t have to be.”

Hoseok smiles at him, sad but not unkindly, all sharp angles of his face softening at the change, “Yoongi, you still have your friends. If you wanna watch The Notebook on a loop or marathon 1 Litre of Tears, I’m with you.”

And then Hoseok’s pulling him into a hug, arms circling around him.

It doesn’t quite feel like Jimin’s hugs because Yoongi’s always felt at home in them, every single time. And while Hoseok is familiar and he loves him, of course he does, he still isn’t Jimin and Hoseok’s arms aren’t exactly home.

Yoongi knows that he doesn’t deserve Hoseok – bright, brilliant, beautiful little Hoseok who walks on flowers and catches lightning in his spare time – but he hugs him back, anyway, because he misses the warmth of another person burning against him. Hoseok doesn’t burn through him like Jimin does but it’s alright, Jimin’s the only one who can hold sunshine in his very fingertips, after all.


The weekend rolls in with Hoseok camping out in Yoongi’s apartment.

By Sunday morning, Namjoon’s welcomed himself right in and Yoongi wonders why it had seemed like such a good idea to give his house passcode to all his friends until he remembers that one time they drank drinks too hard at a bar too loud, his friends practically pouring all the drinks into his mouth. Jeongguk had crawled into his personal space sometime that night and asked what his passcode was.


Taehyung asked if it meant anything.

Of course it means something, Yoongi had laughed, a bottle of tequila gripped loosely in his fingers.

He had tipped the bottle straight into his mouth, face scrunching up when Namjoon pulled it away from him.

Yoongi had tried to burn the feeling of loss and heartache with the alcohol but it didn’t help so when he said, it’s our birthdays, he broke down right after.

That was the first and last time Yoongi had cried in front of his friends.

They don’t know that when they’re all gathered together and somebody mentions Jimin, Yoongi’s heart stumbles.

They don’t know that on the rare times he’d allowed himself a night out with them, he would notice an absence so heavy that not even three bottles of vodka could blur and it’d make his eyes sting so painfully.

They don’t know that the mention of Park Jimin’s name is a bucket of shame poured over and over again, on Yoongi’s head.

They don’t know and Yoongi thinks that it should stay that way.

While Yoongi had just wanted to listen to music, maybe order delivery and have a few beers, Namjoon had with him the complete episodes to 1 Litre of Tears – Yoongi doesn’t even ask why – and a completely different idea for how to spend their Sunday.

Four episodes in and Namjoon is curled on the other side of the couch, and Hoseok is laughing somewhere in the middle because, god, Kim Namjoon, get yourself together.

It’s not exactly the most dignified Sunday morning Yoongi has had but it’s the first Sunday he’s spent in his house with other people, and while their laughter don’t bounce off the walls like Jimin’s, their loud exclaims of love will tear you apart, and constant sniffling (Hoseok’s faking it and Yoongi suspects Namjoon’s into this drama far too deep already) are a warm welcome for Yoongi.

The house is too large for two people but with Jimin it had been just right.

Now it’s impossibly large for one person but with his friends crying on his couch and using his credit card unabashedly to pay for the food, it doesn’t feel that cold or that intimidating anymore.

Of course, the bedroom and the closet Yoongi hasn’t even bothered to arrange is a different matter, altogether.


Monday has Yoongi driving to the company at five twenty in the morning. He hasn’t slept at all the previous night. Hoseok and Namjoon had left just past ten, tight hugs and sloppy, playful wet kisses pressed to his cheeks before they shut the door behind them. They might’ve gone but they left a mess in their wake.

Plastic bags and paper boxes strewn all over the living room, half-empty beer bottles and at least a dozen types of unfinished food on the table. Yoongi would’ve cleaned up immediately if not for the oddest sensation that the house finally felt alive.

Yoongi is a ghost that wanders around the house who sometimes falls asleep outside in the balcony, no Park Jimin to poke him awake and bring him in. Other times, he falls asleep on the couch and there is no Park Jimin to turn the TV off and drape a blanket over him.

There is no Park Jimin to pull him out of the raging waters in the ocean of his heart.

When three a.m. came and sleep still had not taken him, Yoongi stayed the rest of the morning in the balcony just waiting for five.

At five a.m. he had taken a shower and slipped into a crisp, expensive black suit. The drive to the company is short and quick. Nobody’s up at five in the morning unless they really have to be. Yoongi has been up the whole night, the only salvation to his day, he’s positive, will be the sunrise.

Now, he sits smoking in his chair and looking out the window.

When the sun finally rises, Yoongi leans back, exhales smoke, and closes his eyes. He lets the orange glow fill his office, lets the warmth caress his face, a sign that a new day has begun and yet Yoongi is still in the same place, and he allows his heart to wander, too.

His secretary comes in just as the clock strikes seven. She comes with a tray of coffee and a pastry, sets it down on his table, asks if he needs anything else, and then bows.

She has worked for him long enough to not find it peculiar for her boss to be already in, way before officer hours.

She has worked for him long enough to know him, even if it was only the side of him he bared to the company.

She has worked for him long enough to know who Park Jimin is.

“Thank you,” Yoongi mutters, putting out his cigarette.

He doesn’t touch the pastry but he finishes the coffee and three more cigarettes.

Yoongi has an eye for natural beauty. He is a fan of the natural scenery. He takes a moment to admire the way the sun’s light bounces off the dark glass of some buildings, reflecting harshly into the one across from it.

After one final drag, he pulls the blinds close and throws the pastry straight into the garbage.

He doesn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the day.

Lunch is a salad that he pushes around with his fork.

He drinks tea because he always has tea at four in the afternoon.

When the sun starts to set, he pulls the blinds back and watches as the sky grew steadily darker. 

Not unlike the other days, Yoongi turns away just before the sun sunk even lower in the horizon. Try as he might to forget, he still can’t – there is something so incredibly haunting about the look in somebody’s eyes right before they crush your heart. The sun setting is a reminder of that.

When he comes home, the apartment is cleaned up, the traces from Sunday all gone.

He drops his keys and phone on the counter, ignores Hoseok’s dozen messages, and falls on the bed.

Sleep takes him tonight. Yoongi falls into it all too willingly, head lighter and eyes heavy.

He doesn’t always dream when he sleeps, but tonight he’s blessed with bright lights and warm, tinkling laughter.

The world spins and suddenly he’s lying down on grass, the open sky above him. Stars dot every space in the sky and the moon is the only source of light but he still hears the laugh, soft and beautiful.

“Do you want to trade?” Yoongi will recognise Jimin’s voice even if they’re submerged in water.

He doesn’t see Jimin but he feels him all around him.

“I want the sun back,” Yoongi demands, pushing himself off of the ground, going in circles trying to look for Jimin.

The world spins again and now Yoongi’s in an empty train station. Just across the tracks, he sees a flicker of movement, but still no visible image of him.

“Give it back,” Yoongi tries again, voice desperate and cracking.

He feels a touch on his hand, light and fleeting, and then a voice whisper right into his ear, “You can’t have it back, Yoongi.”

This is what it feels like to watch the love of your life walk away– it feels like a missed train to an important destination. It feels like every single moment is too late. It feels like being born into an empty world, the only song playing on repeat is the requiem of lost hearts.

The train will never come and Yoongi will always be late – late in realising that Jimin’s slipping through his fingertips, that there’s something off about their relationship, that he’s the cause of all the hurt. He’ll always be too late.

Min Yoongi wakes up to the sound of rain pelting against his window. He gets up, walks to the cabinet, and pulls on one of the sweaters Jimin had left three months ago.

It hangs on loosely around him, his fingers tugging at the sleeves. He crawls back into bed and hides under two blankets, face buried into a pillow that still smells faintly of rosemary and mint.

Sometimes, there are things inside of you that refuse to leave. There is a love that has crawled into the spaces of Yoongi’s bones, a love that has fashioned itself to fit inside of him, finding home in his very being. When Jimin left, he’d taken Yoongi’s heart but not his love.

Yoongi hears it now – it’s begging for Yoongi to let it stay, it’s at home here inside of him.

The sun is hidden behind stormy grey clouds. Yoongi doesn't show up for work.


It’s unlike him to miss work when the primary reason for their breakup was his work – so invested in it that he wouldn’t have time for Jimin anymore. He hadn’t realised it at that time, but Yoongi was the one who’d pushed Jimin away.

Nothing is easy when you’re trying to make it into the world. It’s tough, cruel, and cold, but having Jimin to latch himself onto after a terribly bad day healed him. Being at home made him feel better.

He hasn’t been at home for a while now and if anything, Yoongi’s only pushed himself harder into his work, climbed, and climbed, until he got the very promotion he’d always coveted. He always thought Jimin would share in that happiness.

For a while, Jimin did. The last good memory that particularly sticks out is when he’d received news of his promotion. He’d left for work the very second that he could and rushed to meet Jimin at school. It’s not always that Yoongi gets off work earlier than Jimin, but that night had been special.

He came with a bouquet of roses and freesias in one hand, and boy was he a sight when he’d stepped out of the car, all loose tie and crisp black suit.

Jimin had known exactly what the occasion was and rushed to fling his arms around Yoongi right there in front of the school, his fourth grade class trailing behind him. Yoongi had clutched onto him just as tight and lifted him up into the hug, Jimin’s legs, arms, all of him, everything, wrapped around Yoongi.

“I knew you could do it,” Jimin had said, over and over again, kissing every expanse of skin he had access to.

Yoongi had buried his face into Jimin’s shoulder and held the boy tight because they’d finally made it.

Three weeks after that is when everything started to get a little bit rocky.

Over a month or so after the promotion and the very foundation of their relationship is shaken up by an earthquake with a magnitude so high Yoongi still felt his bones shaking even after it had passed.

Yoongi’s bones are still quivering. He hears them rattling in the middle of the night when sleep doesn’t give him the relief he so desperately needs.

He can still smell the roses, can see the beautiful blue freesias in his mind, and picture out Jimin’s face brightening up so quickly like someone had flicked a switch.

He tosses and turns in his bed, drowning not in the blankets but in the sweater Jimin had always loved, the sweater he wore constantly during cold winter mornings.

This is the first after so many sleepless nights. This is the first day Yoongi has spent in bed, just sleeping.

It rains the whole morning up until early in the evening.

The waves in Yoongi’s heart seem to have settled but the water is colder now.


“Mr. Min, a Mr. Kim – “ She’s cut off mid-sentence when the doors to Yoongi’s office all but flies open.

“Yeah, yeah, he knows who I am,” Namjoon says, walking confidently into the office. Yoongi looks over Namjoon’s shoulder to nod at her and she leaves with a final bow, the doors closing gently behind her. “What’s up, night of the living corporate zombie?”

Not really one for small talk, Kim Namjoon.

Today, Yoongi grimaces at Namjoon.

He’s had coffee and at least three cups of tea. He ate the pastry his secretary had laid out for breakfast and lunch was a salad that he found to his liking.

Yoongi is sort of having an okay day.

 “Good afternoon to you, too,” Yoongi says with a nod, raising a cup in greeting, his second cup of coffee for the day. “What do you want?”

Namjoon walks around the office, fingers gliding on the plush couch meant for important clients and certainly not for Yoongi’s annoying friends, and stops when he reaches the clear, glass windows just behind Yoongi’s desk.

“Come to dinner later,” Namjoon doesn’t look at him and Yoongi only takes a sip. “It’ll be at Seokjin’s place, everyone’ll be there.”

Yoongi takes a another sip of his coffee.

“Jimin says he hasn’t seen you in a while,”

The blow comes quickly but it doesn’t hit him that hard.

He takes another sip of the coffee before finally setting it down on his desk. “Alright,”

“What, you’ll go or you’re just acknowledging the invitation?”

“I’ll see,” Yoongi mutters, getting up from his chair to stand beside Namjoon.

Namjoon glances at him, an unreadable expression on his face, “Jimin says it’s okay, he wants you there.”

He didn’t want me enough to stay, but Yoongi doesn’t say that. He just blinks, a glazed look in his eyes as he stares at the high rise buildings, “Did he mean it?”

“Yeah, Yoongi. Nobody’s seen you unless we force our presence on you,” Namjoon huffs, starting to sound a little frustrated now. “To be fucking honest, all of us are a bit tired watching you two avoid each other. I mean – come on, Jimin said it’s okay and that he actually wants to see you.”

“I don’t think he means it,” Because if Jimin did mean it then he would have stayed.

Namjoon rounds on him, an eerily calm look on his face, “Yoongi, just come for dinner. Talk to your friends, we’ve missed you. Talk to Jimin, maybe, I don’t know. I really don’t know with the two of you, but just talk to each other, say hi or some shit. Give yourself a break.”

Yoongi wishes that he’s back at home in Jimin’s sweater and sleeping under half a dozen blankets instead of here in his office.

He’s so high up and yet he still feels like he’s barely breaking through the surface.

“Okay,” Yoongi finally says. “I’ll be a little bit late, but I’ll be there.”

Yoongi is having an okay day.

He’s not so sure about his evening, though.


He holds a bottle of wine in one hand, the other desperately clutching at straws. He stands on the front steps of Seokjin’s townhouse and deliberates knocking, or ringing the bell, or straight out just punching his passcode. He ends up smoking for fifteen minutes outside, instead. By his second cigarette, he could have sworn that somebody was peeking out the window to take a look at him. He catches Taehyung ducking out of his view.

How long had he noticed Yoongi outside? Ever since he’d arrived, probably. Bless Kim Taehyung for not alerting their other friends, Yoongi just needed time to get his wits about him.

He crushes the cigarette under his shoe and climbs the last three steps leading to the front door. He opts to knock and hears a, “Wait a minute!” from inside. A couple of seconds later and the door is flung open, Seokjin standing in front of him. “Yoongi,”

Seokjin says his name like he’s been holding in his breath the whole night, “I’m glad you made it,”

Yoongi smiles at him, feels the corners of his mouth lift. He knows it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but this is a start. “I brought wine,”

Seokjin takes the bottle and walks off to set the wine and grab glasses for all of them.

He hears voices from the kitchen but he turns right to go to the sitting room, instead, and finds Taehyung just in front of the window, hand gripping the curtain. At the sight of Yoongi, Taehyung’s face brightens up and he grins.

Before he even knows it, the younger boy is bounding towards him, arms thrown around his shoulder and pulling him into a hug. “Min Yoongi!”

Yoongi hugs him back and gives his hair a light ruffle when they pull away, “Hey, Taehyung. How have you been?”

He asks because he doesn’t know and he has lost touch with his friends the past couple of months, but they’re still here. They still smile at him like no time has passed at all and don’t treat him like fragile china – Hoseok, especially.

“Namjoon got me a job at the hospital he works at, so now I’m officially done with the waiting tables business and finally devoting all of me – “ Taehyung gestures wildly, still grinning, “ – to full time nursing.”

Yoongi can’t believe he’d missed such an important part of Taehyung’s life that he apologises. Taehyung shakes his head and grips him firmly on the shoulders, “It’s okay, it’s not like you missed my wedding or anything,”

“You’re getting married?” Yoongi exclaims, eyes wide.

Taehyung doubles over himself, laughing. “No, I need to get engaged first. What I meant was that you might have missed that one event but you’re here for all the others, right?”

There’s a hard lump in his throat that makes it difficult to speak. He nods his head and offers a smile, instead, and makes a silent promise that he’ll start putting in an effort with his friends again.

It’s been three months and Yoongi is surprised that his friends still treat him like a friend. He hasn’t exactly dropped out of the face of the Earth, he’s just gotten a little bit harder to reach, is all. His friends are assertive, though, and if Hoseok practically ripping his hair off  had to mean anything, then it was that he was a good friend, who probably should never result to that kind of means again for the well being of Yoongi’s hair.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone,” Yoongi tells Taehyung who nods like he understands, and maybe the soft, concerned look in his eyes that Yoongi catches when he glances at the other boy is because he does understand. Taehyung’s always been the closest to Jimin in their small group of friends.

“How have you been, though?” Taehyung directs the question back at him, practically bouncing as they both make their way into the kitchen. “I heard Jeongguk ambushed you last week?”

Yoongi isn’t given time to answer once they step into the kitchen because all of his friends are milling about, Hoseok helping himself to a glass of wine and Namjoon picking at the sandwiches Seokjin was setting, and there, on the couch huddled closely with Jeongguk is Jimin.

It comes as a shock to him to finally see Jimin.

He’s seen him a couple of times in passing in the last three months – their friends set up a night out, Yoongi shows up. Jimin is there so Yoongi leaves. Sometimes, it’s Jimin who leaves when he spots Yoongi. Most of the time, it’s Yoongi who walks away first because he can’t handle to look at Jimin’s retreating back one more time.

Park Jimin looks up from his phone the same time Jeongguk trills, voice loud, “Hyung!”

Hugs are in abundance tonight, it seems. Jeongguk leaps over the side of the couch to crash into Yoongi, all wide smile and deep laugh.

When his arms come around Jeongguk to give him a few reassuring pats, his eyes land on Jimin who carefully gets up from the couch but doesn’t move any closer towards him.

Jeongguk finally extracts himself away from Yoongi and steps aside, leaving no other obstacle between Yoongi and Jimin.

Seokjin holds his breath.

Namjoon holds his breath.

Hoseok holds his breath.

Taehyung holds his breath.

Jeongguk holds his breath.

The whole fucking world holds its breath.

“Hi, Yoongi,” It’s the same god damned voice that Yoongi’s heard practically every day ever since he was eighteen. It’s the same god damned voice that he wishes could take back what it’d said three months ago. It’s Park Jimin saying his name for the millionth time and Yoongi tries his hardest to hold himself together.

A large wave crashes into his heart, the rope threatens to snap, and Yoongi fights the cold harsh waves to stay afloat.

“Hi,” Yoongi finally says, voice coming out steady. Jimin offers him a small smile from his place across the room and Yoongi doesn’t return it, just nods at the boy who stole the sun from him, and grabs the glass of wine from Taehyung’s hand.

The whole world breathes a sigh of relief.

His friends breathe a sigh of relief.

Everyone begins to move again and the earth resumes spinning.

It’s not a wonder how Yoongi’s heart is awfully calm; Jimin did take it with him when he left, after all.


“Yoongi,” He doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Jimin. Yoongi leans back on the couch and tips the wine into his mouth. He hopes Seokjin has more than the one Yoongi had brought because there’s no way he's going to survive this night sober.

Jimin takes a seat beside him but leaves a space between them wide enough for another person to occupy.

“How have you been?” Jimin asks, voice playing at sounding light. Yoongi hears the almost-crack near the end of the sentence. He hears it but he pretends he doesn’t.

“Wonderful,” Yoongi finds the strength to actually scoff.

He doesn’t say he’s a mess because that goes without being said.

He doesn’t say he misses him every day, thinks about him every time the sun rises.

He doesn’t say he can’t even look at the sunset anymore without being reminded of his eyes, without wanting to cry.

He doesn’t say he still loves him – it’s been three months and not a day goes by that he doesn’t think so.

There are a lot of things Min Yoongi doesn’t say.

“You look like you’ve lost a lot of weight,” Jimin’s voice has gone quiet, almost sad.

“You look good,” Is what Yoongi says, blunt and straight to the point. He turns in his seat to look at Jimin and watches as Jimin breathes in deeply, fingers twitching in his side.

Jimin still looks the same. Stupid Park fucking Jimin with hair that looks so soft to the touch that Yoongi’s tempted to run his fingers through it. Stupid Park fucking Jimin with the sad eyes that don’t belong to his face – he’s not allowed to be sad because he’s Jimin and Yoongi has never allowed Jimin to be sad, but here is the boy with the sunshine gripped tightly in his fingertips, sad yet he’s trying, trying very hard to coax Yoongi out of his shell because nobody else can.

It has been three months after their breakup and yet the love that has slept in the corners of his bones has crawled out at the sound of Jimin’s voice.

Yoongi’s hands are cold to the touch but Jimin won’t know that.

“How are you?” Now it’s Yoongi’s turn to try because he misses Jimin and this little piece of hell that tastes just like heaven is the only chance he’s ever going to get.

Jimin’s eyes flit from Yoongi’s hands and then back to his face, “How do you think I’ve been?”

Yoongi regrets even asking because Jimin’s voice is not supposed to sound hurt and bitter like that.

Yoongi gets up, “Jimin,” this is the first he’s actually said his name the whole night and it tastes like heartbreak and sunsets all over again. “I can’t do this,”

The smile on Jimin’s face threatens to break through Yoongi’s composure. It’s a slight curving of his lips and it looks so hallow, so sad. The emotion that reaches Jimin’s eyes is one of deep longing but that’s not possible because Jimin can’t be longing for him, not when it was him who’d walked out. Yoongi pretends not to see the look in his eyes and hopes that Jimin can’t tell that he’s close to coming undone at the seams.

This is what it feels like to stare at the person you’ve loved since you were eighteen - it feels like warm blankets around you on a cold night. It feels like breakfast for dinner after a terrible day at work. It feels like the world is spinning just for the two of you.

And this is what it feels like to look at the person who’d said goodbye to you that one cold Thursday morning – it feels like a bucket of cold water dropped on your head, the coldness seeping into your bones and staying right beside where the love you’ve developed for the boy you’ve held onto ever since you were eighteen is sleeping. It feels like the house you’ve built from nothing has come crumbling down all around you. It feels like “almost”.

Almost is the saddest word in any language because “almost” is “never enough”. Almost is the way Jimin had almost stayed. Almost was Yoongi almost holding on to him. Almost is never fucking enough, it’s like even the word itself slips through his fingertips like water. Almost is when Yoongi bites down on his tongue because he almost reaches up to touch Jimin, almost says he misses him so damn much. But almost isn’t nearly enough because if it were then it wouldn’t be so sad, would it?

So Yoongi stands looking at the boy who still holds his heart in his hand, the sun in the other, and thinks how they were almost on the brink of something wild and beautiful.

“Yoongi,” Jimin sighs his name out.

“Jimin,” Yoongi says his name like a prayer.

“It’s nice seeing you,” There is an underlying finally in Jimin’s words that Yoongi pretends not to notice – is it possible Jimin misses him? Yoongi doesn’t quite believe it.

Yoongi’s never lied to Jimin and he won’t start tonight. “I think we shouldn’t see each other again,”

He sees Jimin’s face fall completely, the illusion around them shattering.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jimin’s voice cracks. He gets up from the couch to stand in front of Yoongi, fists balled tight in his side. “That’s not necessary, is it?”

Yoongi chances a glance behind him and finds that the living room is devoid of all their friends – right, the little fuckers really did set them up, or what?

“You ask me how I am,” He faintly remembers the night Hoseok had stormed into the penthouse, all red rage and frustration in his eyes.

It better be damn believable.

“I’m not okay,” Yoongi hadn’t given Hoseok a response because he had no words for what he was feeling. With Jimin, though, it’s a simple answer of “yes” or “no”. “This isn’t easy for me,”

Jimin hears the steel in his voice and recoils away from him, “This isn’t any easier for me either, Yoongi,”

Sneering at Jimin is the worst thing he could do for the night because it only brings out the anger inside, “Alright, you know what? Do – do whatever you want. That’s how you’ve always done things so just –“ Jimin stops, realising what he’d just said, and runs his fingers through his hair, trying to ease his own thoughts, get himself together. “Okay.”

“Good night, Jimin,” Yoongi murmurs, not quite meeting his eyes.

Jimin watches him as he walks out of the living room, hand snatching his coat laid over one of the chairs as he passed by.

He hears faint murmuring from the rooms upstairs and thinks that they probably won’t mind if he leaves early. He doesn’t begrudge them their effort – this whole night had been lovely, just cut Jimin completely out of the picture. From the wine, to the food, to almost all of the company present, it had been lovely. They meant well but Yoongi supposes they didn’t expect this to happen. He himself didn’t expect for this to happen.

Just as he’s slipping into his shoes, Jeongguk appears from seemingly out of nowhere, startling Yoongi. “Hyung, where are you going?”

There’s something about Jeongguk that touches Yoongi’s heart and stills the rush of waves inside of him, if only for a few moments. “Home. I have an early start tomorrow,”

Jeongguk frowns but doesn’t say anything, just stands behind him with his arms crossed.

Before Yoongi steps out of the house, he reaches to hook an arm around Jeongguk’s neck to pull him in for a hug.

“Thank you,” It’s meant for everybody but he doesn’t have the strength to tell each one of them, so for now this will have to do. He pulls back, smiling a little bit, “See you tomorrow for lunch?”

Jeongguk’s frown has eased up to be replaced with a slight look of confusion that’s quickly followed by a grin, “Okay, your treat.”

Yoongi nods his of course and waves, stepping out of the townhouse.

When he gets to the most bottom step, he feels his knees grow weak.

He looks up at the sky and doesn’t see any of the stars, just a faint outline of the moon hidden behind the clouds.

It’s not fair for him to have the moon and the stars when he can’t even see them for the most part.


Yoongi sits across of Hoseok outside of a café. It’s Sunday and the whole world is slowing down.

Hoseok tilts his head back and exhales smoke, “Do you want my apology?”

“For the other night? Was that your idea?” Yoongi asks, eyebrow raised.

“Nah, it was a collaborative effort. We didn’t exactly plan that, we just wanted to get everybody together,” He takes a long drag from his cigarette and doesn’t release it until Yoongi relaxes in his chair, shoulders not looking so tense anymore.

He twirls an unlit cigarette between his fingers, “It was nice,”

Not exactly the almost going into blows with Jimin, but the whole thoughtfulness of their friends, that had been nice.

“It’s not your fault we – well, that is to say, I found it a little bit too hard to handle,” An understatement, but Yoongi’s sure that Hoseok knows just exactly what he means.

Hoseok snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, we know.” After a moment and a mouthful of the croissant Yoongi had ignored the whole afternoon, Hoseok follows up with, “How are you?”

“I don’t think I’ve come up with a lie believable enough for that question,” Yoongi mutters, finally giving in and lighting a cigarette.

“You don’t have to lie, Yoongi. You know you can just tell me, right? Like, if you’re not alright or whatever, then just tell me. You two were together for a really long time, I understand,” Hoseok reaches for his hand across the table and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

Hoseok’s hand is warm on top of his and Yoongi welcomes it. It’s been so long since he’s had a taste of sunshine that he’ll take whatever he can.

He’s known Hoseok even longer than he’s known Jimin and it’s a wonder how much their friendship has endured. Looking over at him, Yoongi starts to feel a little bit better.

“I’m alright,” Yoongi pulls his hand out from under Hoseok’s to grab at his coffee.

“Are you sure?”

“If I was ever sure about anything, Jimin wouldn’t have left,” Three months and only now is Yoongi fully opening up about it. “I sound so fucking pathetic, Hoseok. But you know what? He was the only one I was ever really sure of,”

The cigarette slips from his fingers and Yoongi’s hands come up to clutch at his head, “It’s like I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

He was with Jimin for the most part of his adult life – seven, almost eight years – that now Yoongi can’t even find himself outside of the relationship. It’s pathetic to think that he doesn’t even know who he is without Jimin, but it’s true and Yoongi’s done with lying, done with pretending that he’s fine because nothing has been fine ever since Jimin had left.

There is an ocean inside of him that constantly tries to pull him under. There is no grey sky up above his head, just an empty canvas.

Isn’t it quite easy to get lost in the cracks of who you once thought you were? Yoongi is not overcome by the waves but he falls into the spaces of his bones and melts into his shadow.

Yoongi is lost.

“Yoongi,” Hoseok’s voice comes as a soft murmur, his eyes downcast.

“What?” Yoongi croaks out, voice suddenly hoarse from the sudden strain he’d put himself in.

And to his surprise, a smile breaks into Hoseok’s face, “Min Yoongi, that’s who you are,”

He isn’t aware that he’s crying until Hoseok, wonderful, darling Hoseok, reaches a hand out to brush at the wetness on his cheeks, “It’s okay that you’re not. And it’s okay that you feel a little lost. It’s okay, Yoongi,”

Hoseok presses his palms into Yoongi’s cheeks gently, swiping at the tears.

Yoongi doesn’t exactly say thank you but he smiles a smile that reaches his eyes and for the first time since the breakup, Yoongi feels like he’s finally ready to pick up the pieces and try.


He’s at the grocery when he bumps into Jimin just as the fourth month nears.

“Yoongi,” Jimin says, surprised.

Yoongi tightens his grip on the basket, “Hi,”

“How have you been?”

I can’t do this again, Yoongi thinks. But I can.

“I didn’t mean what I said back at Seokjin’s,” Yoongi says hurriedly, afraid that his new found confidence will quickly go up in smoke if he held the words in too long. “I’m sorry I was rude.”

A surprised sound comes from Jimin that’s quickly followed by a short laugh.

“I’m sorry, too. It was the first I saw you and I just,” Jimin cuts himself off and Yoongi desperately wants to know what follows that train of thought. “I can still say that it was good to see you, however that night might have ended,”

Yoongi nods, shifting the basket to his other hand. “It’s good to see you,”

Jimin smiles at him, soft and quiet like he’s unsure.

Yoong smiles slightly back. It’s a start.

“Well, I – I should get going,” Jimin stammers out, almost tripping on his feet when he backs away too fast.

Yoongi doesn’t want to say goodbye and he doesn’t want to hear it, either, so he just nods.

It takes Jimin a couple more moments to realise that he should leave and Yoongi spares them both the awkward parting by turning away first.

He doesn’t look over his shoulder to see if Jimin’s still rooted on the same spot.

He doesn’t look because it will be too painful to see that’s he’s gone.

He does look when Jimin calls for his name, the boy’s cheeks flushed, “Do you want to catch up?”

Yoongi is stunned into silence and almost drops his basket if not for the eggs he’d loaded earlier. “What?”

Jimin shuffles around, a little bit embarrassed.

He was with this boy for almost eight years and it’s quite laughable how Jimin can still find it in him to be shy, but the circumstances have changed and even Yoongi starts to feel a little bit out of his centre.

“I mean, if you want. Tea, or something.”

He was with this boy for almost eight years and it’s quite painful the way they’re acting like ghosts from each other’s past that have suddenly come to light.

“Yeah, sure. That would be nice.”

He was with this boy for almost eight years and it’s quite a thing of wonder how Jimin’s responding smile at his affirmation still gives Yoongi the butterflies.


They don’t meet until the next week when Yoongi’s finally free of his clients. The world has a nasty sense of humour when Yoongi looks down on his watch and the date tells him it’s a Thursday. There is a lump in his throat that blocks the words he wants to say and a rock sitting inside of his stomach that just weighs him down.

They’ve decided to meet in the tea shop they used to frequent before. Yoongi loves it for its tea and Jimin loves it for its ambiance, and the biscuits, too.

When he gets there, Jimin has already ordered for two and is half-way through eating half a plate of the mint chocolate biscuits. Jimin hasn’t changed at all.

Jimin has gotten him a matcha green tea. Yoongi hasn’t changed at all, either. 

There is a painful tug in his heart that almost pushes Yoongi into Jimin’s arms.

But almost has never been this painful and the world is cruel, so instead, Yoongi slips into the seat opposite Jimin and smiles at him, pretends that his every nerve isn’t on end, his very being aching just to touch Jimin. They talk like exes that decided they would be amicable after the split. Yoongi has switched his phone off and it might be four months too late but at least Yoongi’s finally making Jimin his number one priority instead of work. The first twenty minutes is a little bit awkward and it feels wrong, too, because they’ve never been awkward.

They met for the first time when Yoongi was eighteen and Jimin sixteen at a family dinner that they were both bored out of their minds of. They talked, and talked, and laughed, and even managed to bribe one of the waiters into giving them wine. It was the best time Yoongi’s had all summer, getting slightly drunk with a sixteen year old boy who was all big smiles and cheeky grins.

And they met a lot more times after that dinner party until all their casual coffees and internet café hangouts – the latter almost lasting all of the afternoon til the wee hours of the morning, their voices hoarse from constantly throwing curses at all the idiots they were playing against – became actual dates with hand holding and kisses.

Contrary to the popular belief of their friends, Yoongi had not made the first move. Jimin was well into his way of hitting seventeen and Yoongi was nineteen. Jimin had been a boy two years his junior who always came up to him with a toothy grin and an endless stream of, “Treat me, treat me, treat me!”. There’s no definite point in time where Yoongi knew exactly what was happening between them because before he even thought about it, his heart had already started to soften for Jimin, had opened its chambers and given room for the boy to crawl in and find his own corner to call home.

Jimin had kissed him first that one night just as Spring started to settle around them, the flowers slowly blossoming and the air feeling that little bit warmer. Jimin had kissed him just after their after school learning program that never failed to make Yoongi feel like death. Jimin had kissed him just after everyone had trickled out of the building and a minute before they got the call from their drivers that they were outside already.

Yoongi hadn’t had the chance to kiss him back because Jimin had already pulled away, red cheeks and a nervous laugh erupting from him. Yoongi hadn’t given Jimin the chance to feel embarrassed or shy, just grabbed his hand and pulled him along to the exit.

Yoongi found it quite hard to let go of Jimin’s hand when the time came to do so. Jimin’s hand was soft and his fingers just the right length to slot perfectly into the spaces of his own.

The next night during cram school, Jimin had dropped by Yoongi’s classroom to say hello, all bright eyes and even brighter smile. Yoongi had known then that Jimin had an effect on him that nobody else had. That wasn’t the turning point but maybe there’s never been a turning point because he was always drawn to Jimin, and Jimin to him, and as such, things just naturally fell together just as the stars had designed for them.

The stars’ graces had lasted them seven years.

Looking at Jimin now, Yoongi can still see the boy of sixteen he’d first met. Can see the shy boy of seventeen who’d kissed him first. He can also definitely see the boy who’d said “I love you” over and over again until Yoongi had felt like he’d burst from too many “I love yous”.

Yoongi doesn’t settle on the fact that Jimin is lost to him, though, because that isn’t the case. Jimin is sat across from him at one of their favourite cafes and he’s smiling now, talking animatedly about his class, about the other teachers who’d gotten in trouble with some of the parents.

Jimin is so near and Yoongi wonders if this is what being torn apart by love is really like. He’d never quite had the experience in his younger years, had just dove head first into the dazzling, burning kind of love that he had forged with Jimin.

The evening passes with Yoongi feeling like he’s in some sort of trance, in a daze. He listens, he talks, but he doesn’t let his eyes linger too long, avoids staring, and try as he might to not be swayed, he fails and ends up telling Jimin he’s missed him. Like, a whole lot.

Jimin blinks at him and Yoongi doesn’t look away, holds his gaze even when he hears a biscuit clattering on the plate.

“Yoongi,” Jimin says, voice coming out soft and low.

Jimin has always had really pretty eyes, eyes that could drown somebody who stared in too deep into them.

The ocean inside of Yoongi stills, though, because there is a galaxy inside of Jimin that even the depths of the ocean cannot rival.

“I miss you, too,” Soothing and longing are all so evident in Jimin’s voice that it causes Yoongi actual pain because he starts to feel hopeful.

“There’s a play next Tuesday,” Jimin says quickly, fingers twirling the straw in his drink. “Um, you remember my class, right? We’re gonna be performing a Peter Pan play, and, I don’t know why I’m even saying this, you’re probably busy,”

“I’ll go.” Yoongi says, response automatic.

There is a process in mending broken hearts and Yoongi can’t do anything about his, not when Jimin still has it.

So he nods, promises that he’ll be there and offers to give Jimin a ride home.

And it’s really not for the reason that he doesn’t know where Jimin lives now – wow, there are things about Jimin that even Yoongi doesn’t know now. – but that he just wants to.

He wants to spend that extra twenty minutes in the car with Jimin, trying to bite his tongue down from asking him all the big whys.

He wants to drive Jimin home because he wants to be near Jimin, has missed the boy so terribly.

He wants to drive Jimin home because Yoongi is trying. He might be a little bit late but he’s trying – he’s going to try for the boy he’s loved ever since he was eighteen.

Yoongi hasn’t fought for himself but was always ready to fight for Jimin. Now, though, now Yoongi will fight.

Jimin accepts the offer with a smile that is certainly the cause of that little backflip Yoongi’s stomach had just done.

The drive back to Jimin’s new flat takes twenty minutes as they sit in traffic. Jimin hums to the music playing on the radio and Yoongi’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel every time they’re at a stoplight.

He almost reaches for Jimin’s hand, an instinctive reflex.

Yoongi parks the car just in front of a flower shop, Jimin’s new flat located on the second floor of the building.

Before Jimin leaves the car, Yoongi stops him with a light touch on his arm that makes Jimin jump in his seat.

He draws his hand back, a little bit stung.

“Jimin, I really enjoyed seeing you,” He pushes the feeling of hurt and betrayal that surged straight into his chest at Jimin recoiling from his touch. “And I – if you let me, if it’s okay, I’d really want to see you again, too.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Jimin fidgets with the seat-belt, neck slightly flushed with colour at the gravity of Yoongi’s words.

It’s the greatest idea to have ever hit Yoongi ever since their breakup and he’s only found the strength to even bring it up because of Jimin, because he’s already driven himself up against all the walls he’d locked himself in, and because it’s the only way.

“We’ll have to see, yeah?” And Yoongi’s smiling, a tiny little smile but a smile, nonetheless.

To his surprise, Jimin pries his fingers off the steering wheel and gives his hand a gentle squeeze, “Okay.”

And for the first time since he’d lost himself at sea, Yoongi finally manages to break through the icy waters. He can almost make out the blue sky up ahead.


Yoongi doesn’t get any sleep that night and so he smokes, lets the smoke settle around him like mist. For now, he will allow himself to get lost in the haze.

His hand still burns from Jimin’s touch and he wonders, for the first time, if Jimin has touched anybody else like he’s touched Yoongi.

It’s quite possible and to say that Yoongi hates the idea is to say that the sun isn’t too hot.

But if Jimin had found somebody else – impossible, a voice in Yoongi’s head muses. – then his friends would know. They would have told him.

It keeps Yoongi up the whole night just wondering if anyone else has touched Jimin.

If it’s possible, then the ocean inside of him has just caught fire.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that the cigarette slips from his fingertips and falls on his leg.

“Fuck,” Yoongi curses, brushing it off.

The cigarette doesn’t quite burn compared Jimin’s touch.

Yoongi stays outside until the sun rises and only gets up when he gets a little too short on time.

As he slips on his shoes, Yoongi’s nerves start to settle.

Jimin doesn’t have somebody else.

Jimin hasn’t touched somebody else.

Jimin has agreed to see him again – as friends, or what, but it’s them trying a second time – and that’s all that matters.

Nobody else is in this picture but the two of them.

When he steps out, he sees a faint outline of the moon just beside a thin cloud and feels the warmth from the sun on his face.

Yoongi has a good day despite his sleepless night.


Jeongguk drops by his office every other day for lunch. It’s become a sort of constant in Yoongi’s days for the younger boy to just swing by and demand he be taken out to lunch.

Yoongi has stopped trying to reason with him once Jeongguk rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, yeah, you’re busy, but even busy people eat lunch. And if you don’t go to lunch with me I’m going to starve. Hyung, I’m poor,”

And before Yoongi could even suggest that he just lend the boy his credit card or maybe hand him cash, Jeongguk had already called him out on it. “I want the full dining experience, not just cold cash,”

Two weeks later and Yoongi has had at least nine lunches with Jeongguk who blabbers on and on about his job.

“So this other intern made me realise that some people are really just fucking stupid,” Jeongguk says after a mouthful of pasta.

Yoongi takes a sip of his drink – just lemonade this time around. He’d stopped drinking wine for lunch when Jeongguk suggested they go to friendlier places that won’t think he’s part of the wait staff with his clothes.

He’d never known exactly what it is but there’s always something about Jeongguk that makes Yoongi feel oddly protective over him, often indulging the boy in almost anything and everything. When he suggests that he take Jeongguk as an intern, the boy almost chokes on his drink and refuses him out right.

“No, no, no way,” Jeongguk shakes his head, “I mean, thanks but I wanna do things on my own. I mean – I appreciate the help, and you’re practically feeding me every day, but when it comes to work, um, I think I can tough this out myself.”

There it is.

Jeongguk has a certain fire in him that sparks a hot blue, his determination a hundred fold. Yoongi respects that, so he raises his glass of lemonade and meets Jeongguk’s orange juice in the air for a toast.

“Hyung, I heard you were going to the play,” Jeongguk has never faked anything and the teasing tone in his voice is proof of it. “What happened to ‘I can’t do this’?”

Sometimes, Jeongguk really knows how to get under Yoongi’s skin. He ignores the teasing and takes a bite of bread.

“Sorry, that was too much of me. But, anyway, how was Jimin hyung?”

Oh, it’s been a while since Yoongi’s been asked that. Before, whenever someone had met Jimin or Yoongi without the other being present, they’d always ask about them – they were a package deal.

“Fine,” Yoongi answers against his better judgement. “We had tea,”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen, “Oh, that one place near the Japanese market?”

“Yeah, that one. It was nice. It was good seeing him,”

“I can tell,” Jeongguk says, snickering. “I had to drop by Jimin hyung’s school the other day, had some books he wanted to read. He looked like he was in a good mood,”

Yoongi’s brows furrow together, confusion clear on his face, “What do you mean?”

Jeongguk waves his fork in the air, almost splatters Alfredo sauce on Yoongi’s suit, and tells him, “Yeah, like he was smiling a lot and laughing. I don’t know, I just got the feeling that he was, y’know, feeling better,”

It hadn’t really occurred to Yoongi just how sad Jimin could be because when Jimin left, things had started to fall apart for him, the only thing Yoongi had a hold on was his job – the very reason that drove their relationship into the ground. To say that his life wasn’t much with Jimin would probably be too over dramatic, but it had felt like that – like everything around him had collapsed, his image of the world and of love shattering like glass falling on concrete.

Jimin might’ve been the one that left but that couldn’t have meant that he was perfectly fine.

Apparently, they were both miserable, which only makes Yoongi feel even more devastated for not having reached out sooner.

It takes a while to put things into perspective, though.

Some things aren’t as obvious as the great big ball of fire in the sky. Sometimes, you have to reach deep down and knock on a door that you aren’t even aware has always been there.

There is a raging ocean inside of him and Yoongi wonders what trouble stirs inside Jimin. (There is a storm inside of Jimin’s heart, the rain only letting up whenever he finds solace – most of the time it’s in Yoongi’s smile.)

Jeongguk pulls him out of his own thoughts when he pokes his cheek.

“Is it odd? What you said, is it odd for Jimin to have seemed, what – happy?” Yoongi had promised himself that he wouldn’t be asking his friends about Jimin. It feels impersonal and cheap. He never had to speak through somebody else, not when it came to Jimin. But this is different, this is Yoongi asking after he’s beaten his pride down and finally opening up.

There are a lot of things Yoongi has found himself capable of doing with Jimin by his side. He doesn’t feel as lost now but there’s still that feeling of almost – almost finding himself, but not nearly close enough to almost getting over Jimin.

Some heartbreaks take a lifetime to heal, or so he’s heard.

Jeongguk looks thoughtful, “Yeah, a bit. He hasn’t been himself. He tries, but it’s obvious,”

It feels like a knife has just stabbed into his gut. How many knives are lodged in there? Is that the reason he feels all sorts of twisted and unsettled every time he hears people talk about Jimin?

“I’m not gonna pry and ask what happened with you two recently but I’m just gonna say that I think whatever it is made Jimin hyung a little bit happy,”

Yoongi responds with a tight nod and takes a long, dragged out sip from his lemonade.

Jeongguk returns to his pasta, just happy he’s getting fed for free.


For some reason, Hoseok making himself right at home in Yoongi’s penthouse doesn’t surprise him that much anymore. Hoseok even arrives first on most days.  

He notices the paint-stained white sneakers on his doorway and breathes out an all too knowing sigh.

“This is breaking and entering,” Yoongi says in lieu of a greeting.

He spots Hoseok on the couch with a bowl of popcorn on his lap and a few beers on the table. “It was breaking and entering the first time. Welcome home, by the way,”

It’s amazing how someone who doesn’t even live in the house greets him a welcome home. Even more amazing, Yoongi realises, is the jolt he feels when he remembers all the times Jimin had said the same exact words, other times foregoing the greeting with a chaste kiss.

The kisses had stopped just three weeks before Jimin left, when he’d lock himself in the guest room and pretend to be busy, only coming out when Yoongi slides to the floor, knees hugged close to him.

Jimin would always come out to pull him up and into a hug.

One week before he left, Jimin had stopped locking himself in the guest bedroom and resorted to sleeping on the couch, sometimes outside in the balcony. Yoongi had carried him back inside whenever he fell asleep outside.

It was winter. Jimin had a cold for four days and Yoongi wasn’t around to take care of him.

“You okay?” Hoseok asks, pelting him with a piece of popcorn.

Yoongi gives his head a light thump, “No, I was just thinking,”

Hoseok hums, putting the TV on mute. “You wanna talk about it?”

He pushes Hoseok’s legs out of the way and settles on the other end of the couch, and grabs for one of the unopened cans of beer on the table. “I was thinking about the last month with Jimin. I should’ve seen the warning signs,”

Hoseok shifts around in his seat, makes himself more comfortable, and twists around to look at Yoongi, eyes focusing on him.

“As more days past, I start to doubt why he stuck around for that long. I mean, you know Jimin. I don’t think I’ve ever really deserved him,” He takes a long sip of beer and closes his eyes so tight after that he starts to see stars.

“Well, I know you, too, and I won’t claim to be an expert on your relationship but it was clear as fucking day that you two were crazy for each other,” A pause as Hoseok bites down on a handful of popcorn. “Are crazy for each other, I’m pretty sure.”

“I’m trying,” Yoongi says, fingers digging into the half-empty can of beer. “I can’t believe I drove him out.”

“Some days you just really hate yourself, right?” Hoseok supplies, dropping popcorn on the couch when he reaches a hand out to touch Yoongi’s knee. “Yeah, we’ve all been there. You’re not going to be stuck in that plateau forever, Yoongi. I know you and I know you’ll find a way out,”

“I’m sorry for, y’know,” He gestures, indicating the months he’d spent avoiding his friends. “I don’t know what I did in a past life to have gotten you idiots as my best friends,”

Hoseok barks out a laugh, “Yeah, and to think you found Jimin, too. You probably saved a country from war, or something.”


It’s almost eleven and Hoseok is still lounging around, this time with his head in the fridge, grumbling about food and how there’s literally none of it in the fridge.

Yoongi steps back into the house and closes the door to the balcony, a cigarette dangling from between two fingers. “Don’t sleep on the couch, there’s an empty bedroom down the hall,”

“To repay you for your kindness, I’ll cook you breakfast,” Hoseok brandishes a tray of eggs and Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“That’s about the only thing you can cook,” Hoseok’s laugh is confirmation to that one horrible truth.

The next morning, Yoongi wakes up from a few short hours of sleep and cooks the eggs for Hoseok.

He leaves early for work but sets the table for the idiot in his guest room and attaches a note on the fridge that simply says: “Burn the house down and I’ll fucking kill you.”


It’s Tuesday and Yoongi knows exactly why his nerves feel on edge. He’s going to see Jimin later and it really shouldn’t mean much but it does.

The past week has been a combination of “okay” and “good days”.

The past week was filled with nights where he actually got some sleep, not just a fitful five hours of tossing and turning.

And just yesterday Yoongi saw a faint flickering of a few stars in the sky.

The whole day goes by painfully slow with Yoongi suffering throughout every second in all his four meetings for the day. Even drinking coffee takes an awfully long time to do.

There is no lunch with Jeongguk to distract him or reassure him that everything will be fine, hyung, Jimin hyung invited you after all, right?

And it’s not even supposed to be a big thing – it’s just a play that Jimin’s class is putting on. Jimin’s class that Yoongi had met on Jimin’s first day last fall. Jimin’s class of students whom he adores, spoils rotten unlike the other teachers who’re just doing it for the sake of getting their job done.

So many things have happened since then and most of them Yoongi is unaware about.

Yoongi thinks how it’s not supposed to feel like this – like he’s an empty house with broken down doors barely hanging off the hinges. He thinks that he’s supposed to feel like love and coming home to the comfort of the stars, Jimin’s smile shining as bright as the sun. But things have changed and Yoongi doesn’t quite know what to feel, exactly, except that he’s excited about tonight – and partly afraid, too.

He stares at his reflection in the window of his car, fixes his tie twice until he decides to just loosen it up. Work is finally over for the day and no calls will come through for the rest of the night, either – Yoongi won’t even care if the company goes bankrupt overnight, some things are more important than the career his parents had thrust onto him, their expectations as heavy as the weight of the world.

He pulls up into the parking lot and bumps right into Namjoon, who almost falls off his SUV.

Yoongi helps him with a firm hold around his elbow and a loud bark of laughter that surprises even Namjoon.

“Wow, fuck, good evening to you, too,” Namjoon says coolly, as if he hadn’t just fallen off his own car.

They meet Seokjin by the entrance and together, the three of them make quite a sight in their tailored suits and expensive watches.

Well, except for Namjoon who came in his scrubs.

“What? This is really comfortable,” He says defensively when Seokjin asks just why he hadn’t changed out of it. “They’re better than pyjamas, seriously, fuck off,”

“Why are we all here, though?” Seokjin asks as they find their way into the school, Yoongi pointing out which turns to take to get to the auditorium. “This feels like we’re all headed to an opera, not a fourth grade school play,”

“This is Jimin’s first big school thing ever since he got the job,” Namjoon supplies very helpfully.

“We don’t even have children,” Seokjin groans.

“Now that we know why the rest of us are here, why are you here, Yoongi?” Namjoon raises an eyebrow at him, a smirk slowly making its way across his face.

Yoongi wants to smack him with his left hand, large expensive watch and all.

“For Jimin,” Yoongi mumbles, avoiding the looks the other two are exchanging.

Seokjin walks beside him and places a heavy hand on his shoulder, smiling. “It’s really good to have you back, Yoongi.”

Yoongi is thankful for the dim lights of the auditorium masking his flushed cheeks.

They find seats somewhere in the middle, Hoseok waving for them from down the aisle.

The play is already starting once they settle down in their seats, small, adorable versions of all the Peter Pan characters coming to life on stage.

It’s adorable. They’re fourth graders, of course it’s going to be adorable.

Jimin plays the piano for the first half of the play (Yoongi doesn’t even need to go into detail of just how beautiful the experience is) and switches with another teacher for the second half. Yoongi doesn’t see him anymore until the play finally ends and all the kids and Jimin come to the stage to take their bow.

Jimin smiles brightly under the stage lights and laughs when the kids from beside him start to cling onto him in a hug.

Yoongi isn’t sure if Jimin sees him but for a split second, Jimin had looked directly in his direction and smiled. It had felt exactly like how the universe came to life when it first exploded, the stars and all the other planets scattering around the galaxy to find their place.

Yoongi feels like he’s found his place in the receiving end of that smile.

There is a structure of a house inside of Yoongi and the essence of home in Jimin.

When the curtains draw to a close and all the kids come trickling down to go to their parents, Yoongi stands just by the entrance of the auditorium, the rest of his friends milling about behind him.

Jimin walks up to him with a bright, beaming smile, the whole sun practically shining out from behind him.

“This is actually embarrassing to have you guys here,” Jimin says, laughing a little bit.

Hoseok comes to wind an arm around Jimin’s neck, bringing him in for a rough hug. “Yeah? Think of it this way, the kids all have their parents and you have us.”

Jimin laughs a little bit more at that but does pick up on Jeongguk and Taehyung’s absence – it’s their jobs, Seokjin explains, Jeongguk isn’t holding up too well in his job and Taehyung’s been stuck with night shifts.

“You played really well,” Yoongi offers him the compliment.

“Thanks, I’m glad you made it,” Jimin looks like he’s on an absolute high and Yoongi is proud of him.

He’d been so blinded with work that he had barely paid attention to Jimin’s.

Business calls, rude clients, and meetings that only frustrate him don’t come close to the look of pure joy on Jimin’s face just from having successfully ended a play on Peter Pan.

“You know I wouldn’t have missed it, I already promised,” They fall into step beside each other, the other three already half-way down the parking lot.

Jimin peers over at him, “I was really hoping you would be here, but I wasn’t expecting it.”

“I’m sorry,” He will apologise for every promise he’d broken, every “I’ll see you for dinner” that he hadn’t met. He will apologise, over and over again, if it would change anything.

“It’s okay, you just surprised me. The good kind,” Jimin’s voice goes quiet, almost like a whisper, like he’s too afraid to say anything else.

They stop just by his car to witness Hoseok clambering onto the driver’s seat of Namjoon’s, shutting the door a second after Namjoon had pulled his hand away.

“How old are you!” Namjoon screams, kicking at a wheel.

Hoseok flashes the light three times, laughing from his seat.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride home,” Hoseok has the windows rolled down so he can scream at Namjoon, all toothy grin and a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I promise to drive safe,”

Begrudgingly, Namjoon gets on the passenger seat, buckling the seat-belt immediately. “Tell my parents I love them,”

“It would be totally fucked up to go back to the hospital right after your shift just ended,” Seokjin lets his voice trail off as he slides into his car, a smirk on his face. “Oh well, best of luck,” He shoots Yoongi a look at the last word which makes Yoongi want to bang his head against the car door because his friends are obnoxious sometimes and downright plotting his embarrassment most of the time.

His friends aren’t playing matchmaker – they’re not allowed to do that – but they’re doing something because it’s the only explanation for why, ten seconds later, it’s just Yoongi and Jimin left out in the parking lot.

“That was wild,” Jimin chuckles, waving as Seokjin drives past them.

Yoongi doesn’t even know where to begin – just how old is Hoseok? Will Namjoon return home safely? Is Taehyung in for a surprise at the hospital? – but he figures offering Jimin a ride home is a good a place to start as any.

Jimin accepts it with a little smile and slips into the passenger seat with his cheeks colouring a twinge of red.

“Have you composed anything new?” Yoongi asks him at a stop light, glancing to his right.

“Recently, I’ve hit a kind of block,” Jimin starts, words stumbling over each other. “But – but, yeah, things have started to flow nicely now. How about you? How’s work?”

The light turns green and Yoongi steps on the gas, lets Jimin lower the volume to the radio and roll the windows down. The air isn’t as cold anymore, a testament to summer just being around the corner.

Yoongi wants to enjoy spring, though – it’s always been his favourite season. (And the fact that Jimin isn’t exactly summer but spring is just one of the many different reasons for his attachment to the season).

“We shouldn’t talk about work,” Yoongi says, his voice almost getting carried off by the wind.  “Not talk about my work, not yours. It doesn’t make me feel too good,”

“But you’re good at what you do, Yoongi,” Jimin’s words, so soothing to the ear, wraps around him. If he weren’t driving, Yoongi would’ve closed his eyes already.

His hands tighten around the wheel, words coming out harsher than necessary when he says, “I wasn’t good to you, Jimin.”

The car falls silent, neither of them speaking. The wind carries with it its regrets, all their hopes, and all the words they could’ve said but instead kept to themselves.

The drive by the lake causes a change in the temperature, the air growing colder.

Yoongi exactly remembers the morning Jimin had left.

Jimin left him on a snowy Thursday morning. Yoongi remembers the desperation in his voice, Jimin, please. He remembers the helplessness in Jimin’s eyes, his words still ringing in his ears, a distant echo of the most painful words ever said, I told myself I wouldn’t let anyone complete me, but you should know that I've never felt this way about anyone, and I don't think I'll ever be able to, not after you.

He’d clutched tightly at Jimin, fingers digging harshly into the skin of his arm.

Jimin had stopped just by the doorstep, bag tipping over the floor.

It was a snowy Thursday morning and the coldest Yoongi had ever felt in his life.

Jimin’s fingers running down his face to wipe at the tears that stained his cheeks had been cold.

Jimin’s lips pressing faintly against his own had been cold.

Jimin’s eyes brimming with tears was the sun setting on their relationship.

Yoongi remembers it all too fucking well. It’s a nightmare he has every single night.

He doesn’t even look at the sunset anymore because it only reminds him of the goodbye that had slipped from Jimin’s tongue.

There is no way that Yoongi has moved on four months after Jimin had left him. He hasn’t exactly given himself the chance to move on.

Jimin had been the centre of his life – or at least he thought so until he slipped and focused too much on work, hardly paying attention to the boy who waited at home for him.

“I broke a lot of promises,” Yoongi finally speaks, his voice cracking. “And I should’ve done something sooner but it was hard coming to terms with an empty house and a cold bed,”

Looking over at Jimin, he sees that the boy’s fingers are tightly curled into his palm, teeth worrying on his bottom lip.

“When we met at Seokjin’s place, I thought I couldn’t see you again because it would be too hard, but then I realised that it would be fucking impossible to not see you again.” Yoongi accidentally runs through a stop light but it’s almost ten in the evening and there aren’t much cars out in this neighbourhood so he figures it’s okay, and a fine is hardly the most of his worries.

“It’s difficult just thinking that you’re not quite here anymore,” Yoongi continues, the silence from Jimin cold and cutting. “I don’t deserve you, I know, but you took the fucking sun when you left, Jimin, and all I’ve felt ever since is cold.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything until Yoongi pulls over just outside his flat.

“You don’t even have to say anything,” Yoongi says to a frozen Jimin who hasn’t said anything or even moved an inch. He unbuckles his seat-belt, moves to the trunk of the car, and walks to Jimin’s side to open his door. “Just take these and go,” He thrusts the bouquet of flowers to Jimin whose fingers instantly take a hold around the base.

Yoongi takes a few steps back to let Jimin pass.

The ocean inside him rages, the rope tethering him to the rock close to snapping off, and Yoongi doesn’t fight the waves this time. Let the tides take him to where he needs to be, he will float with the current.

Jimin stands on the sidewalk staring at the bouquet and then at Yoongi, a strange look in his eyes.

“If it makes you feel better then it’s okay if you forget about everything I said. I just wanted you to know that you mean the world to me and that I shouldn’t have allowed things to have gone so bad that you had to doubt your importance in my life,” He sounds so raw, so open and vulnerable that his voice breaking halfway through surprises him.

Well, Jimin has always had that kind of effect on him.

“Yoongi,” It’s the first Jimin’s talked ever since Yoongi had started his drawn out monologue.

Jimin steps closer towards him, flowers held tightly in one hand.

“Thank you,” It could be a thank you for anything, really. For the ride. For coming to the play. For letting me keep the sun. For still loving me.

It feels like almost.

But then Jimin leans forward and kisses his cheek, soft and quick, and Yoongi’s whole world starts to spin again.

Jimin smiles at him from under a street lamp and the look in his eyes is akin to the sun finally rising to take its place in the sky after a cold and dark night.  


Yoongi sleeps fitfully but he still dreams. It’s a familiar dream; reminiscent to one he’s had a couple of weeks ago.

This time he finds himself under the open night sky and the moon is bright, the grass practically glowing from the moonlight. The stars seem to laugh at him from their place up in the sky and oddly enough, Yoongi feels quite calmed by it.

“Do you want to trade?” The voice comes as a soft whisper carried by the wind.

He hears Jimin’s laughter somewhere in the distance. “I’ll give it back if you want,”

Yoongi closes his eyes, knows that this is another trick again, but he’s a fool for Park Jimin so naturally, he falls for it. Over and over again.

“Why did you take it?” Yoongi doesn’t see Jimin but he suspects that the boy must be hiding somewhere amongst the stars.

“You have all the stars and the moon, can’t I keep the sun?” Jimin responds, voice light and playful.

“Why did you take it?” Yoongi asks again, his eyes finally opening as he pushes himself off the grass.

He doesn’t try to rope the brightest star closer because Jimin’s suddenly in front of him, all ethereal glow and soft smile, his fingers closed around a bright orange orb.

“Do you want it back?” Jimin lifts his hand up to Yoongi, the sun trapped in his fingers. “If you want it so much then you can just take it,”

“Jimin, you can have the whole fucking galaxy if you want,” Yoongi tells him without a hint of any coldness in his voice. He’s not resigned, either, but if Jimin wants the entire galaxy then he can have it, at this point. Jimin can have the sun, the stars, the moon, the whole damned galaxy if it meant he’d come home.

Jimin’s hand lowers and he watches Yoongi with a curious expression, “Why do you say that?”

“Because you took the fucking sun when you left, you idiot, and left me with the stars that I couldn’t even see. I can’t see the stars,” Yoongi speaks quietly, voice barely above a whisper. The wind stills and the stars look so much closer to Earth now, the moon’s light making everything it touches glow. “Jimin, I can’t see any of the god damned stars you love so much,”

Yoongi doesn’t want to think that Jimin is a star – so out of reach and hardly visible in the city but still so fucking beautiful.

“Did you know that the light from the stars are lights from thousands of years ago?” Jimin asks, taking a step forward. “I’m not a star, Yoongi. Don’t let me be a star,”

He walks even closer and only stops when he’s directly in front of Yoongi. Jimin opens his hand, the one that held the sun, and says, a hint of amusement in his voice, “You know what’s funny? I still think you walk on starlight,”

And then he wakes up with the sun shining harshly on his face and his phone ringing, Jimin’s name flashing on the screen.

Yoongi is quick to answer it even in his groggy state, “What? What’s wrong?” There is no other reason for Jimin to be calling him so early on a Wednesday morning and Yoongi is quickly roused from his sleep by the urgency he suddenly feels at the thought of something being wrong with Jimin.

“I woke up and felt the strangest urge to call you,” His voice is muffled on the other end and Yoongi hears a ruffling of sheets, probably just Jimin getting out of bed, too. “I’m only know realising how stupid it is, I know you have to be up early for work,”

“No, this is fine, it’s okay,” Yoongi quickly remedies the doubt in Jimin’s voice and opts for reassurance instead. “You can call me anytime, Jimin,”

He doesn’t hear anything from Jimin’s end except for a soft meowing that sounds oddly like a cat.

“What was that?”

“Oh,” Jimin laughs, a twinkling little laugh that immediately sets Yoongi’s mood for the day. “It’s Harangie, my cat,”

It’s not even funny but Yoongi’s so surprised that he ends up laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Jimin asks, voice defensive.

Yoongi shakes his head, remembers that Jimin can’t see, and quickly says, “No, it’s just a surprise, but also kind of cute, now that I think about it,”

He hears another meow on the other end and Jimin cooing to the cat, probably scratching its head or something.

“Yeah? How are you this morning?” Jimin’s voice is light, ready for easy conversation, but Yoongi can also hear the note of anticipation underneath his words, knows exactly what Jimin is trying to ask.

Yoongi steps outside to the balcony, the sound of traffic faint from so high up and the sun so warm from where he stands. “Good,”

He can actually hear Jimin’s smile when the boy responds with a soft “Me, too.”


When Jeongguk drops by his office for lunch and asks him how he is, Yoongi says that he’s good, thanks, and finds that he actually means it.

After work he finds Hosoek lounged on his sofa and helping himself to a credit card Yoongi had left lying around (he’d left it in a rather obvious place for this reason alone) and the smile he shoots Yoongi as he walks through the door is unabashed and unapologetic. Yoongi greets his friend with a thump to the head with his pack of cigarettes and a rather pointed, “Good evening, free loader.”

Hoseok asks how he is and Yoongi repeats what he’d said to Jeongguk earlier that day, I’m good, thanks, and this time he means it, too.

“How’d the drive with Jimin go?” Hoseok picks through the bowl of noodles on his lap, eyeing Yoongi while he ate. “As you can see, me and Namjoon made it out with our lives. He said I couldn’t drive his car anymore, though,”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Because you give people heart attacks, Hoseok,”

“Anyway, enough about that, Namjoon’s a big boy, anyway. How was it with Jimin? Did you talk? Did you play the radio really loud? Did you take the long way home? Did you cry during the whole drive?”

When Yoongi flinches at the last question, the mischievous grin on Hosoek’s face quickly falls and is followed by a more sympathetic smile, hand reaching out to rub gently on Yoongi’s knee.

“Did you really cry, Yoongi?” He sounds like he’s about to burst into laughter, though, and again Yoongi whacks him with the cigarette pack.

“Fuck off, you’re terrible,” Yoongi scowls, pushing Hoseok’s hand away. “And crying while driving is quite dangerous, so I didn’t,”

Hoseok practically falls over on the couch from laughing so much, his noodles almost flying out of the bowl, “So it went well?”

Yoongi falls silent and contemplates it. “I’m not sure, but lately I’ve been having good days,”

This time the smile on Hoseok’s face is gentle and kind, “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”


He and Jimin decide to meet again on Saturday.

Just as he’s about to get ready to leave, his phone blows up with a call from work that demands for his presence.

Yoongi swallows past the lump in his throat, almost chokes down on the “no”, but instead, he grits his teeth and says, “Okay,”

It’s nine in the morning and he wakes Jimin up with a call and an apology.

“Oh,” Jimin sounds crestfallen and Yoongi can’t imagine what he would look like with the news. “It’s okay,”

“No, it’s not,” Yoongi pushes, wants Jimin to at least know that if he’d had it any other way then he would be spending the Saturday with him. “An urgent meeting of all the directors, I can’t get out of it. I’m really sorry,”

“It’s okay, really,” Jimin tries again, this time sounding more believable. “We can meet after anyway, right?”

A sigh passes from his lips and Yoongi relaxes, “Yeah, I think that can work, too,”

“Well, I’m not gonna keep you any longer, so just call me after?” Jimin asks quietly, like he’s not too sure he could demand something of Yoongi.

It will take a while for Jimin to come to terms that he’s Yoongi’s priority now and that he should be important above all else, but Yoongi will wait. It’s been four months since Jimin had first left and they’re working on things, slow paced as it is, but it’s still progress.

“Call or text anytime, I’ll answer,” Yoongi has put the call on speaker as he balances on getting on a pair of trousers. “Jimin, you come first. And I know this is a really shitty show of that but if there was a way I could skip out of it then I would. I’ll definitely see you later, okay?”

He hears Jimin breathe before silence falls from the other end of the line, a couple of beats passing.

Finally, Jimin responds, “This feels kind of new, doesn’t it?”

Yoongi pauses from unbuttoning his shirt and furrows his brow, forgetting that Jimin can’t see his reaction.

Yeah, it does feel new.

Shame runs hot in his veins every time he remembers how terrible he’d been to Jimin, practically ignoring him. He is ashamed to even think that he’d forgotten so many important things, one of them being their routine “I love you” right before bed. But, two weeks before Jimin had left, he’d started locking himself in the guest room, falling asleep on the couch or out in the balcony, and they hadn’t quite had the chance anymore to say a proper good night.

It must be why their goodbye was disastrous, too.

Yoongi can still remember how shaken up he’d been, how he still made his way to work, hands shaking and heart hammering in his chest. You can’t call in heartbroken to work, is the thing.

Shame runs hot in his veins every time he remembers the tears streaking down Jimin’s face, his eyes begging him to say otherwise.

The only thing Yoongi had said before Jimin had left was a hurried ‘I love you’, said over and over again until Jimin’s fingers slipped out of his grip.

Shame runs hot in his veins every time he remembers how they’d both slid down on the floor, a mess of tangled legs and tears. Yoongi’s heart had broken in two and when Jimin finally got back on his feet, he’d taken both pieces with him.

Shame runs hot in his veins every time he remembers how he’d never deserved Jimin in the first place.

Yoongi takes a deep breath and finally pulls on a tie around his neck.

Jimin sits waiting on the other side of the call as Yoongi fashions the tie messily, not quite as skilled as Jimin.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” He’s picked up the phone and is pressing it against his ear when he slips into his shoes. “I’m sorry for not having tried enough,”

“This time around’s different, don’t you think?” Jimin asks him, his voice shaking a little bit.

Yoongi smiles the whole ride down the elevator, because Jimin’s right, this time around is different and it feels different because they’re both trying to be better people, Yoongi especially.

“Wait for me,” It’s selfish of him to say but at this point, Yoongi has thrown all caution to the wind. It’s either all or nothing. This isn’t going to work if only half his heart is in it, and even if it means bearing all of him, stripping himself completely and tearing all the walls around him, then so be it.

“Okay,” Jimin ends the call and Yoongi drives to work, determined to get things done as quickly as possible.

The meeting actually goes on until the afternoon, every single one of them arguing about the pressing issue and the right solution.

It’s only when Yoongi slams the binder of files on the table and gets up, quite tired and fed up with all these people who thought they were important fighting over the state of the company so pettily.

“Alright, let’s do it like this,” Yoongi starts, “All of you are going to be submitting an actual written report about the issue – start to finish, you heard me – and then propose a solution. Tackle everything like how you would a business plan.  And you, from division C, put your people to work and try to persuade Mr. Park about renewing the contract. If I don’t see results on Monday then fire every single one of your incompetent workers,”

Yoongi casts a sweeping gaze around the room, challenging anyone to try and tell him otherwise. They don’t, fortunately.

The whole meeting Yoongi had sat back to listen to every one of them complaining and despairing, sounding completely impractical and incompetent for their ranks.

“If there isn’t anything else to add, then this meeting is over. My head’s about to explode,” Yoongi pushes off his chair and walks out of the room first, his secretary falling behind him.

“Get everything ready by Monday,” Yoongi tells her as he glances at her.  

She nods, scribbling down on her clipboard. “Okay, Mr. Min, noted.”

Well, that’s all for today, thank fuck, Yoongi thinks quietly to himself as he makes his way around the parking lot, his headache easing up a bit.

He drives all the way to the hospital Namjoon and Taehyung work at, Jimin having dropped by to catch the other two for a very late lunch.

Yoongi meets him by the entrance of the hospital and tells him that the other two are back to their shifts, Namjoon grumbling about a last minute surgery and Taehyung all but fainting at the sight of a woman giving birth.

They make their way back to the car, their hands occasionally brushing against each other. Yoongi feels fire crawl up his skin at the contact and hopes he’s not being too painfully obvious.

Before Jimin slides into the passenger seat, he looks over at Yoongi from the roof of the car and smiles, “Your tie is crooked,”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and gets in the car, not bothering to reply  until Jimin’s all buckled up and making himself comfy, “It’s the trend nowadays,”

Jimin’s laugh fills the car and it’s beautiful, Yoongi hasn’t heard Jimin really laugh for quite a while now. “If you say so,”

They end up at the planetarium after forty minutes of driving. It’s a Saturday and the place is swarming with tourists and a couple other groups consisting of families and friends, every single one of them watching and pointing at everything with awe clear on their faces.

“I had a really weird dream last night,” Yoongi murmurs, more to himself than Jimin.

They’re standing in a wide circle room, the ceiling above them a projection of stars. The screen in front of them shows the more common constellations that’s visible to the naked eye.

“I dreamt there was a storm,” Jimin says from beside him, their shoulders almost touching from the close proximity. “Oh, I think I see something nice in the other side,”

Jimin leads the way out of the circle room exhibit and as they walk they pass by a few more remarkable exhibits, vivid images of the stars and the planets.

“I don’t really like the stars,” Yoongi admits as they plop down in one of the larger rooms with the thick carpet. Other guests are also lying on their backs and enjoying the view of the universe on the ceiling.

“I know,” Jimin’s voice has gone down to a whisper and Yoongi has to lean in closer to hear him. “You always favoured the sun,”

Yoongi only nods at him.

“Do you really think I stole it from you?” They’re now both lying down on the floor, turned to their sides so they could look at each other.

“I don’t like the stars, I can hardly see them,” Yoongi responds instead of agreeing to what Jimin already knows.

Jimin smiles at him, eyes fluttering softly when he does so, “Do you wanna trade?”

He’s holding his breath, eyes focused solely on Jimin.

This isn’t a dream, this isn’t a dream, this isn’t a dream.

Jimin is on his side, staring straight at him and Yoongi can’t quite grasp the idea of how harmful it is to be staring at the sun, but here he is staring right at Jimin.

Yoongi is on his side and Jimin is looking right at him, wondering how it’s possible for one person to have the ability to make all the stars laugh.

They’re both on their sides looking at each other and this isn’t a dream.

“You can have the fucking galaxy, Jimin,” Yoongi says, voice ghosting over Jimin’s face.

He lifts his hand up between them and Jimin reaches for it, their fingers intertwining, slotting perfectly into the spaces of their hands.

“I want you,” Yoongi follows, grip tightening around Jimin’s hand.

It’s been so long since he’s held his hand and it feels like solace, finally.

His hand is warm when it grips Jimin’s – well, he’s holding hands that have caught sunshine, what else could he have expected?

“Take the sun, the stars, the moon, fuck, do what you will with the universe. I just want you home again,” The planetarium has outdone itself in recreating the brilliance and magnificence of the stars as they shine down upon them, almost like how the actual stars would if the night wasn’t littered with lights from the city.

Jimin squeezes his hand, a most peculiar smile on his face. “I really missed you, Yoongi,”

Yoongi closes his eyes, brings their joined hands up to his face, and presses a kiss to the back of Jimin’s hand.  “Will you come back?”

He opens his eyes again and searches Jimin’s face for an answer. Jimin responds by clambering to his feet, pulling Yoongi up with him. “What do I do with the rest of the universe when I come home?”

The smile he gives Jimin is a tender one filled with awe and amazement for the boy who already has constellations mapped on the back of his hands and the universe in his eyes.

They stand on the precept of “almost”, on the brink of something amazing.

Jimin doesn’t know how to tell Yoongi that the storm inside of him has lifted.

Yoongi doesn’t know how to tell Jimin that the raging ocean inside of him has calmed down.

They don’t tell each other about the disasters inside of them because some things go without saying.

What Jimin does know how to tell Yoongi is that his is the most beautiful soul he’s ever met, blessed by the cosmos.

What Yoongi does know how to tell Jimin is that he’s nothing like a star because he’s here now and that’s all that matters.

When they fall into each other, it feels like a new beginning.

Jimin winds his arms around Yoongi’s neck and Yoongi gathers Jimin into a tight hug.

This isn’t “almost” and they aren’t on the brink of something amazing because they already are.


Jimin steps into the penthouse again after four months and nothing has changed, not really.

He spins around to look at Yoongi, a careful little smile on his face.

“Are you perhaps staying the night?” He asks, pulling on Jimin’s hand.

The house is filled with Jimin’s laughter for the first time in four months and Yoongi can almost hear the walls breathing a sigh of relief, whispering Jimin a well awaited “welcome home.”.

“Do you think I’m easy?” Jimin counters, eyebrow raised.

Yoongi groans because of course Jimin would find a way to make this so endearingly difficult. “Are you going to make me suffer?”

“Maybe,” But Jimin slides closer to him, hands coming to rest on Yoongi’s hip. He can feel the warmth from Jimin’s fingers, feels his thumb pressing into his hip, the pressure not exactly gentle but not too much, either.

“Do you kiss on the first date, at least?” Yoongi is astounded at his own ability to form words at this point, but he wants to play along, wants to cherish this reunion for as long as he can.

Jimin’s answer is a soft little hum right before he presses his lips against Yoongi’s, and, god, it feels exactly like home.

He kisses Jimin back, slow and soft at first but the desperation manages to break through his reservation and the kiss turns heated, all hot and burning white passion. Jimin returns it with as much fervour; hand around Yoongi’s waist to pull him closer.

“Do you think we should, ah,” Jimin manages to get out, panting heavily as Yoongi’s kisses trail down his mouth to settle on his neck, sucking on the skin hard enough to leave a mark that’ll last for days. “- christen the bed?”

Yoongi looks up at him through heavy eyes and Jimin, although a little bit dazed, takes it as a chance to pull Yoongi along behind him.

They fall in a mess of limbs and cursing from Yoongi, because they’re so close, it’s been so fucking long, and god damn it, Park fucking Jimin.

Jimin’s on top of him in the next second, knees braced on either side of him and hands splayed out on his chest.

Yoongi stares up at him, all flushed cheeks and eyes blown from want – from the utter need.

“I love you,” Yoongi brings Jimin down with a tug of his hand and their lips crush together again, Jimin’s teeth almost biting down too hard on Yoongi’s lip when Yoongi’s hands start to travel elsewhere, his fingers leaving a burning hot trail on Jimin’s skin. “And I’ve never thought otherwise, Jimin, even after you left.”

Jimin collapses on top of him, eyes shut tight and fingers looking for something to clutch at – Jimin settles on tangling his fingers into Yoongi’s hair, “I love you, too,” Jimin whispers straight into his ear, lips brushing against his neck. “I thought about you everyday.”

And outside, if they’d only managed to chance a glance at the window, they would’ve noticed a small, faint twinkling in the night sky.


Rain splatters the windows and lulls them further into sleep. Yoongi wakes up some time around seven and he’s suddenly overcome with emotion. Jimin is curled close to him, quietly sleeping. Outside, the rain still falls heavily and Yoongi knows that he’ll be fine, they’ll both be fine.

He plays with Jimin’s hair, has missed doing it, has missed having the other side of the bed occupied, has missed fighting for the fluffiest blankets. He’s missed him and now that he knows what it’s like to lose Jimin, Yoongi is more afraid but also more determined that he wouldn’t let go, not again.

After a while, Jimin stirs awake, squints at the view of the cloudy grey skies, and burrows deeper into Yoongi’s arms, face pressed into his chest.

“Good morning,” Jimin murmurs into his skin, lips grazing against his collarbone.

Yoongi closes his eyes and presses a hard kiss to Jimin’s forehead, his fingers threading into Jimin’s hair.

It’s raining but he’s got Jimin in his bed and Yoongi feels warm, cosy, and at home.

“Good morning.”


Jimin had rummaged through their closet and found a pair of boxers he’d left and instead of using the sweater Yoongi had been sleeping in the past week – Yoongi won’t tell him that, he doesn’t need to know – he slips into one of Yoongi’s loose shirts.

They stand outside the balcony, Jimin looking out at the view of the city from so high up and Yoongi leaning against the rails to look at him.

“I kind of missed this view,” Jimin murmurs, sticking his hand out to catch a few drops of rain.

Yoongi exhales a long stream of smoke and, his eyes still fixed on Jimin, says, “Yeah, me too.”


Time passes too fast when they’re together, is what Yoongi had realised.

The days leading up to this had passed by agonisingly slow but now that he was with Jimin, time just seemed to zoom past.

They’re sprawled on the couch, some variety show on TV and a pizza in front of them.

Yoongi sits between Jimin’s legs and leans against his chest, wonders at the simple beauty of the rise and fall of the boy’s chest with every breath inhaled, exhaled.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Yoongi manoeuvres himself to face Jimin and almost falls off the couch if Jimin hadn’t pulled him back by his elbow. “What did you think about our relationship the first time?”

Jimin is distractedly applying gentle pressure on Yoongi’s shoulders, a contemplative look on his face. “I think we’re perfect for each other,”

Yoongi can feel his face warming up but Jimin doesn’t allow him to duck out of view to hide his reddening face.

“You don’t think so?”

Yoongi thinks that if it were true, soul mates, destiny, whatever, then that would be Jimin to him, and him to Jimin.

Yoongi thinks that perfect might be too much of a word for the two of them because they aren’t; they’ve made mistakes but have managed to find their way out of them, too.

Yoongi thinks that although they aren’t perfect, they’re Yoongi and Jimin and they don’t need to be perfect.

“You don’t think our relationship was toxic?”

It takes a while for Jimin to answer, his hands stilling on Yoongi’s shoulders, “No, I don’t think so. Just intense,”

“I could barely get any sleep the last three months,” He cranes his neck to the side to give Jimin more access and welcomes the pressure, already feeling his shoulders relaxing. “I couldn’t look at the sunset without thinking of you saying goodbye again,”

“It wasn’t easy for me, either,” Jimin murmurs, leaning his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. “I wasn’t prepared to leave, I don’t think I ever will be, and it was painful. But you know that I had to, right? That we had to?”

He wraps an arm around Jimin’s waist and holds him, the two of them pressed close to each other.

If Jimin hadn’t left then they wouldn’t have gotten better.

If Yoongi had forced him to stay then they would have only burned out.

The phoenix is reborn from its ashes so why can’t they say the same for their love?

With Jimin in his arms, Yoongi finally feels like it’s spring. The rebirth, renewal, the start of something new.

“I’m sorry you had to fight for a spot in my life,” Yoongi whispers when they pull apart, “I was a shitty boyfriend who hardly deserved you, I’m sorry,”

He feels soft hands frame the side of his face and thumbs brushing at the jut in his cheeks. When he looks at Jimin, he finds that most tender look on the boy’s face, the constellations twinkling in his eyes. “I take it back, we’re not exactly perfect for each other,”

Yoongi barks out a surprised little laugh but leans into Jimin’s touch, “Yeah, but we’re just right for each other,”

“I think we’re meant to be together,” Jimin presses a kiss to the tip of his nose and giggles when he pulls back, all too familiar laughter and eyes that crinkle when he smiles.

They don’t exactly complete each other because they complement each other. They’re just right and it might not be exactly perfect, but it’s perfect enough for them.


Jimin wakes him up early on Monday morning and drags him outside the balcony to see the sunrise.

He basks in the warmth of the sun, Jimin pressed close beside him.

It’s twenty minutes past six and they’re going to be late for work, but Jimin’s got Yoongi pressed against the wall and he isn’t fighting, just lets himself melt into the boy and kisses him back just as hard, leaves obvious bruises on his neck, the back of his wrists, everywhere he has access to.

That morning, Jimin barely makes it to homeroom and Yoongi comes in late, hair a little bit tousled and his tie done perfectly.


Jeongguk arrives for lunch as usual, and he’s smiling, all big grin and twinkling eyes when he says, “I wanna stuff my face with junk food.”

Yoongi groans but knows that the battle is already lost when the little brat bats his eyelashes at him.


Jimin sleeps over more often.

One morning, just as Jimin slips away early for work, Yoongi notices the distinct touch that Jimin has left around the house. The TV is on to a music station, the piano pushed to the side of the wall has been dragged to the middle, and the fridge is actually stocked with food. The bed is all ruffled blankets and one of the dressers that they used to share before finds itself almost full with Jimin’s clothes hastily stuffed in there.

An addition to the house that is new is the cat Jimin had adopted, Harangie.

It’s afraid of Yoongi, always scampering off when he walks too close, and Yoongi thinks it’s absolutely adorable.

Some nights when Jimin’s too busy to stay over, Yoongi spends it at Jimin’s flat, always asking him to move in already, a request Jimin replies with, ever patient, that he’ll come home in two short months. It’s not short at all but he’ll wait.  

Harangie shuffles from house to house and on a rare night that Jimin doesn’t stay over and Yoongi doesn’t spend it at his place, he finds himself sharing the bed with the small cat curled on top of his pillow.

They decide not to tell their friends until Jimin’s moved back in.

It’s all a great plan and everything but Yoongi hadn’t anticipated Hoseok’s complete lack of privacy – the essence of it - in regards to his friend’s own home.

They’re not even aware that Hoseok had stayed over until the boy greets them in the kitchen, smirk on his face and a cup of coffee raised in honour of them. “Nice morning we’re having,”

“Did he break into the house?” Jimin stutters, pointing at Hoseok.

Yoongi groans, “Yes, but that’s not new. How long have you been here?”

Hoseok hums, staring into his coffee. “Well, I got here first, helped myself to some dinner, and retired like an old man to bed. Then I woke up sometime in the middle of the night thinking you were getting robbed – I locked my door, sorry, Yoongi, I’m weak and don’t know how to murder people with my bare hands – but then I heard, um, other noises, and – “

“Fuck, fuck, shut the fuck up, Hoseok,” Yoongi cuts him off with a sharp look and Jimin can’t help but laugh.

“Does he usually stay over?”

“More often than not, yeah,” Yoongi mumbles, still glaring at Hoseok who’s sipping innocently on his coffee. “Why don’t you ever sleep in your own bed?”

“Oh, about that, I think this is a good a time as any to tell you I was kicked out of my apartment last week,” Unbelievably enough, Hoseok is grinning at the both of them as he recounts the sordid details of getting kicked out by the landlady who was kind but couldn’t afford to let him stay for free for another month.

“Where’s your stuff?” But even before Jimin finishes his question, Yoongi already knows.

“Oh, god, tell me the guest bedroom is still a guest bedroom,”

Hoseok laughs, “Technically, I’m a guest and it is a room, so,”

He looks at Jimin for an answer and Jimin just shrugs his shoulders.

“Well, can I stay?” Hoseok’s put the mug down and is now making his way across the kitchen to beseech them at an even closer angle, “Please, please, I’ll even buy earplugs, please, I mean, I know it’s almost summer but I don’t wanna sleep on the sidewalk,”

Yoongi sighs, not really left with a choice.

But Jimin brightens up, though, like he’s just had the brightest idea. “I paid two months advance for my flat,”

He turns to look at Jimin, an incredulous look on his face, and Jimin meets his grin with a toothy smile of his own.

From the other side of the counter, Hoseok almost breaks the coffee maker in his excitement, his voice shrill when he proclaims that he’s got the best friends ever.


They don’t tell their friends, not yet, but Jeongguk catches them the next day when he comes to Yoongi’s office sometime after work hours.

Jimin is on his lap, arms around his neck and face so close to him that when Jeongguk clears his throat from behind them, Jimin almost knocks Yoongi’s teeth out from jumping in surprise.

“I’m here for dinner,” Jeongguk says, a little bit unsure, eyes darting between the two of them. “I mean, Seokjin hyung told me to tell you to come to his place for dinner,”

“You didn’t think about texting?” Yoongi groans, hands tightening around Jimin. He looks over Jimin’s shoulders to stare at Jeongguk, careful not to call him an idiot, well, not too harshly, anyway. “Or calling?”

The smile, so unabashed and without remorse or shame, breaks through Jeongguk’s face when he shakes his head, “Nope, I wanted to see you. Wasn’t expecting you’d be busy, though,”

Jimin clambers out of Yoongi’s lap to roll his eyes at Jeongguk, “Okay, we’re coming to dinner,”

But Jeongguk doesn’t leave even after the heavy stares he receives from the other two.

“What are you waiting for?” Yoongi grumbles, fingers itching to grab hold of Jimin again.

Jeongguk rocks on the back of his heels, “Well, a ride, of course.”


They don’t have a chance to tell their friends because they don’t need to.

They arrive to Seokjin’s townhouse, hands clasped between them and smiling.

Taehyung greets the both of them, engulfing them in a hug and almost crashing their heads together.

Namjoon raises a bottle of wine to celebrate their getting back together and Hoseok pushes the bottle of wine out of Namjoon’s hand to replace it with a bottle of vodka.

Seokjin sighs from behind them, a bowl of salad in his hands, but he does give the two of them a smile, though, a pleased look in his eyes.

They don’t tell their friends they’re back together because it goes without saying.

Hoseok does tell everyone about that one morning, though, and also doesn’t leave out Jimin practically giving him free lodging for the next two months – to which Jimin had replied that it isn’t free, idiot, you’ll have to pay eventually.

Their friends welcome the two of them like nothing and everything had just happened.

The night is warm with laughter and good company.

With Jimin constantly by his side and whispering in his ear, kissing down his cheek to his neck, Yoongi can’t think of a better homecoming than this.

When he closes his eyes just before he bridges the gap between them, Yoongi swears he can see the stars.

And then they kiss and it’s absolutely one of the best feelings ever to actually kiss someone who you’d give up the sun for.


Jimin comes home on a warm Saturday afternoon just before the sunset.


“Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars
for you? That I would take you there?”