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Jimin’s practically running into the room.
The lights are turned off: everything’s shrouded in darkness— but there’s no need for him to find the switch. There’s a dim light from a device— a phone— and it gives enough light for Jimin to see him .
Yoongi.
“Oh god, Yoongi,” he’s by the slouched man’s side at once, kneeling by his side. “ Yoongi , hey.”
And Yoongi looks terrible. He reeks of alcohol, bruises littering the skin Jimin can see. His eyes are dark and wild—
“Oh god, Yoongi,” Jimin whispers, touch feather-light as he traces the small bruise high on Yoongi’s left cheekbone. “What happened?”
Yoongi’s eyes are unfocused. “O—oh… Jimin.”
“Yes, yeah, it’s me,” Jimin soothes. “Can you tell me what happened—” Jimin’s stutters when Yoongi’s hand flies up to catch his wrist, surprisingly strongly for someone who like he’s a second away from melting to the ground. “Yoongi?”
“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi’s voice is thick; raspy. “ Jimin-ah.”
Jimin sighs. “Yoongi, hey, let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”
“Come back to me, Jimin.”
And just like that, Jimin freezes. He’s not stupid—Yoongi’s been texting him—calling him even, begging Jimin to come back—
But then everything goes back to square one and all Jimin hears are the rumours. The lies, the gossip—
So Jimin doesn’t reply. He instead focuses on lifting Yoongi off the floor, supporting as much of his weight as he could.
“Jiminnie,” Yoongi groans. “My pretty Jiminnie.”
Jimin swallows.
He leads Yoongi to his bed— so used to the structure of the room that he doesn’t need to turn on the lights. He seats the older on the bed.
“I’ll get you some water,” Jimin says. “Lay down. I’ll treat your wounds for you.”
Yoongi doesn’t reply— and Jimin absently thinks it’s good. It’s okay. Yoongi doesn’t need to talk anymore. He’s done plenty of that in the past and Jimin’s had enough.
Jimin walks out to the kitchen, pulling out a cup and filling it with water. He rummages about for some aspirin, picking up some ointment as well.
He stalls going back to Yoongi—but eventually, it’s all he can do. So he sighs, turning on the lights as he enters Yoongi’s room. The older hadn’t moved an inch since Jimin had left.
“Here,” Jimin says. He kind of wants to shove them down Yoongi’s throat. He’s pissed. He’s so mad at Yoongi. And yet—
“Jiminnie.”
Just that voice has him dazed.
“Don’t talk,” Jimin hisses. “You don’t get to talk. Not after everything you did.”
“Jimin—”
“I said no,” Jimin snaps. He pulls harshly at the medical equipment. “Now fucking sit still so I can treat these.”
And yet— “You’re always—always so kind.”
“Shut up,” Jimin says. He dabs some antiseptic on the bruise on Yoongi’s face. “I’m doing this ‘cause your fucking friends wouldn’t even bother.”
“I know,” the two words ring through the room. Jimin holds back his surprise.
“Good,” he says belatedly. “Now shut up.” He works on the cut on the elder’s neck. There’s a few seconds of silence that allows Jimin to even his breath and tell himself that It’s going to be fine. It’s peachy. All he has to do is treat these wounds—because this fucking fool wouldn’t even bother to do that—and he can leave.
“You’re so good Jimin.”
Yeah well, you took that for granted.
Jimin lets the silence respond for that statement.
“I was such an ass.”
“No shit,” Jimin murmurs. He presses a bit too harshly into the cut on Yoongi’s wrist.
“I still love you. ”
Jimin stills, lungs filling with something akin to water—making him feel as if he’s drowning. Drowning in ice-cold water.
“Fuck off,” he hisses. “Don’t even try.”
“I’m not lying,” Yoongi sounds surprisingly sober for someone who’s been drinking their ass off. “I still do. I always have. I—took you for granted.”
Took you long enough to figure it out.
“At least you know,” Jimin mutters. He stands up. “There. All done. Now fucking sleep and stop drinking.”
“Would you give me a second chance?”
Jimin’s eyes pop wide.
“What?”
“Would you—“ Yoongi hiccups. “Give me a second chance?” His eyes bore into Jimin’s face. Jimin looks away, heart aching. He shouldn’t have come.
“What makes you think you can ask that?” he’s mad. He’s so mad. This always happens with Yoongi. Now is no better and Jimin should’ve known. He feels like an idiot. “You think you can just—just waltz in again? And for what? To tell your friends I’m just for a good laugh?"
“ Jimin —”
“No, Yoongi” Jimin’s voice is hard. “Not again. Never again. You took me for granted. You took everything about me for granted.”
“I know.”
Jimin sees red. “Stop saying that! If you fucking knew you wouldn’t have done all of that! You made me cry—you made me fucking pass out because I cried too much—”
“I—I know”
“Well, if you know then you should also know that you can’t!” Jimin cries. “You can’t have a second chance. You were bad for me and I couldn’t see it then, but I see it now.”
It’s a shock, when Yoongi gets down to his knees, right in front of Jimin—and it’s wrong. It feels so wrong. Yoongi shouldn’t—
“Please, Jimin,” Yoongi rasps. “One last chance. I’ll treat you so good.”
Jimin eyes fill with tears. He rubs harshly at them. “No.”
“I’ve already ditched them,” Yoongi quietly says, and Jimin knows whom he means. “I—I threw away the cigarettes. I swear Jimin—I swear— I’m trying.”
“Yea well, maybe it’s too late,” Jimin mumbles. He watches as Yoongi’s eyes glisten.
He’s crying, Jimin realizes, bemused. He’s actually-
“Too late,” Yoongi whispers as if the thoughts had never occurred to him before. “Fuck.”
“I’m sorry”—but the more Jimin keeps looking at the tears streaming down Yoongi’s face, the more he feels like his control is slipping past him, hanging on by a tiny thread.
Betraying himself, his mind flashes to the past—the kisses; the sweet whispers; the promises—now broken and laying saddened and shrivelled up at the bottom of Jimin’s heart. A heart that’s been broken once by these very hands that want him back now.
“One last time, Park Jimin,” Yoongi’s voice is nearing a mumble. His fists are clenched on top of his thighs. His knees surely must be hurting now. “I’ll treat you like you deserve to be treated, I promise. I’ll love you like I should have.”
And Jimin’s so close—just so close to saying yes because—
Because it’s Yoongi.
It’s Yoongi.
No matter how mad he is, it’s Yoongi .
Because even after everything he’s said and done; after every promise he’s broken, Jimin still loves him.
The silence between them stretches until Yoongi shifts a little, eyes shrouded in pain. “I—I’m sorry—”
“Get up, Yoongi.” Jimin whispers.
Yoongi’s eyes widen. He’s frozen—staring up at Jimin with something akin to confusion. Jimin lightly tugs at the shirt near the man’s shoulder.
Yoongi stands up. There’s nothing graceful about it—he’s shuffling a little unsteadily, intoxicated, but then they’re both facing each other.
“I’m probably being stupid,” Jimin says. And then laughs a little. “Actually, I am being stupid.” He can’t take his eyes off Yoongi’s. “And Taehyung’s probably going to kill me.”
Yoongi stares at him, frozen, like he’s holding his breath.
“And I’m going to leave without a second glance…if—if you start that again,” Jimin whispers. He steps closer, shoes touching Yoongi’s own. “I mean it, Yoongi.”
“I won’t,” Yoongi says, voice firm; word’s reassuring—and it soothes Jimin. He’s dreading having to face Taehyung. Or any of his friends. “I won’t. It’ll never happen again. Ever.”
Jimin hums. “This is your last chance, Min Yoongi.”
Yoongi’s breathe hitches. “Fuck—” he scrambles for words, it seems, and the sight is so familiar, Jimin can’t help but give out a little laugh. “Jimin—”
His hands hesitate to rest on Jimin’s hips. “Can I—can I kiss you?”
Jimin waits, as if contemplating this, watching Yoongi’s nervous expression before— “ Yeah . Yes.”
And fuck, if those lips don’t slot right into Jimin’s definition of ‘home’, Jimin doesn’t know what does. It’s such a familiar rhythm, slow, sweet. There’s a bunch more adjectives Jimin would say, but everything’s jumbled in his head just like his fingers tangling in Yoongi’s hair, pulling him closer and closer—until space is a foreign concept. It’s frighteningly easy how he falls back into it; how easily he lets Yoongi lead him to the bed; how easily their clothes come off.
Yoongi fumbles blindly at his bedside cabinet, coming up with a bottle of lube.
“’s this okay?” his voice is rough, sending a shiver through Jimin.
He nods, a little shaky. His breath hitches when Yoongi carefully spreads his legs open and traces a wet finger around his entrance, not quite breaching. He knows he’s going to hate himself in the morning. All the so-called progress on getting over Yoongi and here he is—under the man as if he hadn’t left in the first place.
He never learns.
“O—oh,” his fingers clutch at the sheets when Yoongi slowly thrusts his finger in and out. “Mm.”
“Feels good?” Yoongi murmurs to the skin right beneath his ear.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “More.”
“’Kay,” with that there’s two fingers in Jimin, slowly leading up to three and he’s squirming.
“’M ready,” he mumbles. “Get in.”
Yoongi pulls out his fingers, lubing his cock before lining it up with Jimin’s entrance. He leans down, gently prying Jimin’s hands off the sheet only to lace his own with Jimin’s: It’s a quiet reassurance that has Jimin chocking up a little.
Yoongi pushes in and Jimin’s lips part in a soundless moan. His squeezes Yoongi’s hands. The older’s not moving, likely letting Jimin adjust and it leaves Jimin a bit too surprised.
“Move,” he finally whispers.
But Yoongi’s slow. It’s as if he’s taking his time, allowing himself to memorise every move Jimin makes and the scrutiny has Jimin whining. It’s hasn't felt this intimate in so long.
It’s peaceful—slow and intense and Jimin—
Jimin loves it.
It’s hasn't felt like this in so long.
“You’re so beautiful,” Yoongi rasps. “Fuck— so pretty.”
Never, Jimin absently thinks. He can feel the familiar coil at the pit of his stomach. Yoongi thrusts in deeper. “Yoongi…”
“I got you,” the older says, and he’s smiling—smiling so softly Jimin’s feeling it a little too much. Mistake or not this was so much better in so many ways. His eyes close as it hits him, wracking through his body as he lets go and Yoongi’s fucking him through the orgasm, crooning in his ear.
Then Yoongi’s coming in him and god, Jimin hasn’t felt this at peace in a while.
“Thank you,” Yoongi quietly says, bunching up his shirt that was on the bed, before gently wiping down Jimin. He pulls out, falling on to his side to gather up Jimin in his chest, face buried in the crook of Jimin’s neck. “I love you”
Jimin says nothing.
He dreads the morning.
**
It’s Jimin who wakes up first. Which, he thinks as he gently pries Yoongi’s arm away from his waist, is probably for the best.
He’s looking around for his clothes, head blank. He’s trying so hard to not think about what happened; to not unravel the progress he’d made. Trying not to miss Yoongi when it’s barely been a second that he got off the bed.
But it all shoots right out of the window when: “Jiminnie?”
He braces himself, arms wrapped tightly around himself. He doesn’t look at Yoongi, scared of the temptation. “I’m going. Take care.”
“Stay for breakfast,” Yoongi’s voice is soft; pleading. Jimin still shakes his head.
“I meant what I said last night, Jimin.” the bed creaks, as if Yoongi’s getting up and Jimin tenses. Shit. “I’ll treat you like royalty. I’m not fucking this up again.”
And Jimin remembers saying he would allow Yoongi to come inside his life again—but what if it happens again? What if it leaves him more scarred than he already is?
He’s too scared.
“I’m sorry,” is all he says even though he knows he shouldn’t apologise. He has every right to feel this way. Every right to doubt Yoongi. “I can’t.” he ignores how his voice breaks. Instead pulls on his clothes even though he feels gross and all sorts of sticky.
“Jimin…” Yoongi sounds helpless. “We can take this slow…at your pace… anything just—I can’t move on from you. You—there’s no one like you.”
“Having sex isn’t taking it slow, Yoongi,” Jimin says. He turns to face the man. “I can’t move on from you either, but I can’t even begin to comprehend how to trust you.”
“I know,” Yoongi mumbles. “I know you can’t and I don’t blame you…but I—I want to show you. I want to prove to you that I’ve changed.”
Jimin stares at him for one long minute.
“We can start as friends then. No—just acquaintances,” he finally says. “And then we’ll see.” If you’ve really changed.
Yoongi’s shoulders slump in obvious relief. “Acquaintances,” he repeats. “Yeah I—I can work with that.”
“Good,” Jimin nods. “I’ll see you later, Yoongi.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi nods. “Yeah, I’ll see you later.”
Jimin walks out of the apartment without a second to spare.
—
“You… what? ”
“Tae—“
“No, Jimin, you better had not just said what I thought you’d just said,” the younger looks absolutely livid. His fists are clenched as he stares into Jimin’s eyes. Jimin looks away, silent. “Jimin, tell me that you’re just shitting with me.”
Silence. Pin-drop silence.
“I can’t believe you!” Taehyung cries. “After all he’s done? After he made you cry so much you’re just gonna let him walk back in? Let him—let him fuck you? Are you hearing yourself, Jimin?”
“It won’t happen again,” Jimin mumbles. “I told him. We’re just acquaintances, Tae. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Oh I’m sure he’ll be nice enough to listen to that,” Taehyung seethes. Jimin flinches.
“Look, he’s trying, okay?”
“I’ll believe that when I see it for myself.” The younger snaps. “Jimin, you can’t do this to yourself again. You were just barely getting over him. Now you’re planning on being buddies? Things don’t work this way.”
“I know, I know,” Jimin frustratedly says. “But it’s not like we’re meeting every other day. It’s just that when I do , I won’t avoid him like you avoid responsibilities.”
“Excuse you, I do not,” Taehyung huffs, but there’s a small hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jimin giggles. “No but seriously, Jimin, take care of yourself. Please. If it’s too much for you step back. You don’t owe him anything and he can’t guilt-trip you into anything, okay? Capisce?”
Jimin gives him an affectionate smile. “Capisce.”
—
It’s no surprise when Jimin runs into Yoongi the very next day. He’s waiting in line for a coffee, earphones plugged in, head bopping slightly, when there’s a hand tapping on his shoulder. He turns, tugging off one earbud and offering a tight smile to Yoongi, who’s looking at him with uncertainty marring his light grey eyes. Contacts, Jimin dimly thinks.
“Hey,” Yoongi mutters.
Jimin nods. “Here for your first coffee of the day?”
A corner of Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “Yeah. Can’t live without it.”
“I’d say something about that being unhealthy, but ever since sophomore year started, same.”
“ Sophomore year?” Yoongi snorts. “ Nerd .”
Jimin raises an eyebrow. In a previous part of his life, the words used to sting but now—not so much. “And what about it?”
He watches, selfishly a bit smug when Yoongi’s eyes widen, lips parting around an apology.
“It was a joke,” he finally grins. “Come one, you used to be harder to scare.”
There’s a second where Yoongi pauses, and Jimin can see that he’s really trying—can see it in how his fingers clench around his phone; how his lips are moving to say something but it’s not really coming out and Jimin knows what the man is thinking. He’s thinking about it too—only, it doesn’t hurt quite as much. He’s made peace with it.
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi finally says and then nods forward. “You’re up.”
Jimin turns back to the cashier, giving his order and picking up a cake for Taehyung. He turns around, offering Yoongi something close to a smile. “See you later.”
Yoongi nods. He doesn’t quite meet Jimin’s eyes. “See you.”
—
He’s not sure what leads up to it, but meeting Yoongi at the coffee shop around seven thirty in the morning becomes somewhat of a routine. He’s surprised the older is up at this time at all—remembers how Yoongi would stay late, drinking; doing drugs the days they used to be together. Jimin used to have fun with him too—the kind of fun all high schoolers have, but then shit happened. And Jimin’s not-so-fond of it anymore.
“Mornin’” Yoongi yawns. Jimin barely manages a nod. He’s panting too hard, panicking about running late. “I got yours as well,” Yoongi—a saviour in Jimin’s eyes at the moment—holds up a sweetened cappuccino. “Since you ran late.”
“Oh, thank you, ” Jimin fervently says, grabbing the cup. “I thought I’d have to skip coffee. And risk chewing out anyone who talks to me.”
Yoongi chuckles. “Not on my watch, Min.”
Jimin freezes for a millisecond. And then smiles a bit. “I’ll see you around?”
The older man nods, smiles more comfortable now. “Yeah. See you around.”
—
“If you don’t end up winning today,” Taehyung fusses over his hair, strategically placing each strand with commendable patience for him. “I will write a very angry letter to the judge board anonymously and say they suck. Balls .”
Jimin bursts out in a startled laugh. “Okay, but I am up against so many good dancers, Tae. Don’t have high hopes.”
“Don’t have high—“ the younger man huffs, indignant, and grabs Jimin by the shoulders. “I did not give you this—“ he gestures at Jimin’s honey blond hair, parted over his forehead and falling in soft waves. “—absolute beauty of a hairstyle to have you to lose, Park Jimin. You better win. For the gays .”
“Fine fine,” Jimin can’t help but ruffles Taehyung’s hair. “For the gays.”
—
It’s the school talent show, not even a big deal really, but there’s prize money and Jimin had thought, why not? You can never have enough money after all.
So he’d practiced for a few weeks beforehand—had really thrown himself to it with the determination to win, even if he knew there were so many seniors much more suited to win. He’d prepped himself up so well he wasn’t even nervous. Not really.
But then he sees Min Yoongi in the crowd with his stupid cute face illuminated by the bouncing off stage lights and Jimin’s entire body freezes up.
Somewhere along the lines, Yoongi had stopped showing up for Jimin’s shows. Taehyung had been his biggest supporter, avidly cheering from the audience to cover up any absence Jimin might’ve felt when Yoongi had stopped showing and JImin dearly loves his friend for that. He loves his friend for a lot of things, but mostly that.
But still, it’s not as if Jimin had been dancing for Taehyung.
He’d danced for Yoongi.
He’d dedicated hours of sweat and gruelling and perfecting every minimal step for Yoongi.
And seeing him here—now—when Jimin’s just about to perform—
Something falls back into place.
Slowly but surely, something falls back into place.
__
Jimin predictably doesn’t win. But he does get second place and half the prize money the first place winner gets. So he’s not too disappointed. Taehyung gives him a smacking kiss on his cheek and his boyfriend—Jungkook— gives him a hug and a quiet, “congratulations, hyung.”. Then Hoseok comes rushing up—the first place winner— and hugs Jimin and jumps up and down.
“I’m so proud of you!” The older boy screeches and Jimin giggles.
“I should be saying that to you,” Jimin amusedly says. “Congrats on winning, hyungie”
“Thank you, thank you!”
Amid the chaos, when Jimin’s busy wiping off his eye make-up with a chattering Hoseok beside him, he notices the older abruptly stop. Jimin looks up, confused, following Hoseok’s line of gaze to see… Yoongi.
“What’s he doing here?” Hoseok hisses and Jimin guiltily remembers that he hadn’t mentioned sort of making up with Yoongi.
“It’s fine,” Jimin soothes. “We um—we’re kind of friends.”
Hoseok whips his head to face Jimin. “Friends.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm and anger. “ Friends.” He repeats, as if that would change the meaning.
Jimin shrugs. “Yup,” his lips pop at the ‘p’. He gives Yoongi a smile—not totally genuine, but somewhere along the lines. Yoongi smiles back, hesitant. Always so hesitant these days.
He can feel Hoseok’s disapproval rolling off of him in waves.
Yoongi walks towards him, avoiding the crowds backstage, here and there. And then, when he’s in front of Jimin, he whips out a banquet of flowers from behind of him. It’s pretty—so pretty and dainty. The colours are soft-coloured. Gentle. So gentle.
“For me?” He can’t help but ask. He looks up to see a faint dusting of pink over Yoongi’s squishy cheeks.
“Yeah,” the older man nods. He pushes the banquet a bit more forcefully at Jimin. “You—you did great.”
Warmth.
Jimin gently takes the flowers, eyes roaming over the pretty flowers. “Thank you.”
Yoongi nods. “Any time.”
And then they’re just standing there, awkward but reluctant to move away when Hoseok interrupts with a stoic, “As heartwarming as this is, if you pull the same shit again, you’ll have to say hi to my fist.”
Yoongi nods. “Noted.”
Jimin can see the surprise on Hoseok’s face: Yoongi would usually never let someone get away with trying to shit on him.
“So…” the older scratches the back of his head. “I’ll uh…see you tomorrow?” The hope isn’t very obvious, but Jimin’s borderline desperate too, so he detects it like a shark after blood. He nods.
“Yeah. Tomorrow.”
When Yoongi leaves, Hoseok whirls around with a raised eyebrow. “What’s tomorrow?”
Jimin coughs. “We just…meet when we get coffee in the morning. Nothing much.”
Hoseok hums. And then gently pats Jimin’s head. “You know I love you right?”
Here we go again, Jimin sighs.
“Which is why I want you to be careful, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jimin sighs. “I will. I’ve heard the lecture once from Tae. You don’t need to add on as well.”
There’s a small pause. And then— “Wanna go out for drinks?”
—
Yoongi’s sprawled over a booth by the window, an open laptop in front of him.
Jimin blinks, looks at his coffee and back up at Yoongi. Before he can think twice about it, he makes way to the dozing boy.
The laptop screen shows some kind of a thesis, and Jimin feels a wave of pride wash over him. He gently nudges the older boy.
“Hey,” he softly calls, a familiar wave of fondness overtaking him as Yoongi blinks, blearily opening his eyes.
“Wha—“ he yawns. “Where am I?”
“The coffee shop,” Jimin quickly checks the time from his phone. He can spare a few minutes. He slips on to the seat opposite to Yoongi. “When did you get here?”
“Six…I think,” Yoongi rasps. “Needed coffee.”
“Whatcha working on?” Jimin has an intense urge to pet Yoongi. He looks so soft.
“A paper due tomorrow.” The older man shrugs. “Anyway, won’t you be late?”
A quick glance at his phone confirms Yoongi’s words. So he nods. “Yeah. I’ll get going, I think.”
“Hm. Take care, Min.”
—
Jimin stopped watching basketball games for obvious reasons. But the season’s starting again, and he’s staring at posters on the walls and students excitedly whispering and it’s hard to avoid the temptation sometimes.
He wonders if it would hurt, going back. If everything would come shattering down to crumbles again. But he’s been doing so well lately, he wants to give himself the benefit of the doubt.
So he goes.
The bleachers are packed and he can barely find a seat, but he does find one in the trajectory of the basketball team. He sees Yoongi, decked in his red uniform and matching red headband, laughing to something a teammate is saying and the sight is so nostalgic, a lump forms in Jimin’s throat.
But he swallows it down.
When the team wins—Jimin cheers along with the rest of the students. And if Yoongi turns to his side of the audience and freezes when he sees Jimin, well—Jimin’s not going to acknowledge that.
—
“You were at the game.”
It’s not a question; it’s a statement. Yoongi sounds breathless. Like he’d been rushing around to find Jimin after he got off the field.
“I was,” Jimin nods. “I didn’t get you anything, though. Sorry.”
“No that’s—“ Yoongi shakes his head. And then—“You were at the game.” He says again, sounding amazed.
“Mhm,” Jimin can’t help but smile a little. “You did great.”
“I—“ the older man blinks rapidly. “Thank you.”
“When’s the next game?”
Yoongi’s eyes light up and the sight it exhilarating.
“On the—“
—
Jimin wonders if it’s dangerous, falling back to the same path. Falling back into Min Yoongi.
It’s been a few months since they made up; a few months since he’d allowed the elder to come back to his life—and Jimin can feel the familiar sparks.
He wonders if the sparks will be as bright as the first time though; or if the restarting flame would not be as brighter or warmer as it had been.
But for now—for now, he lets himself go with the flow.
He quietens his thoughts and allows his heart to lead.
—
The thing about Yoongi is that Jimin could never quite move on. He’d claim that he did, but he never really did.
The thing about Yoongi is that his sharp eyes; his button nose; his pink lips and his deep voice are the manifestations of temptation. Ever since Jimin’s first basketball match, where he’d been dragged by Taehyung to watch (Jimin had still bought his math book with him)—he’d been enthralled by the short, pale player on the team, with shots so precise and calculated, it looked inhumane. And then, in Jimin’s third match, he’d been lucky enough to get a bleacher so close to the field that when he’d screamed Yoongi’s name, the said player had turned around and smiled at him.
And going to basketball matches had been a firm fixation in Jimin’s schedule since that day onwards.
But then Yoongi had started talking to him in the library, the cafeteria and Jimin had been over-the-moon. They’d gotten closer. Jimin had fed Yoongi tangerines. Countless amounts of tangerines. They went on silly dates after Yoongi’s basketball games. Jimin tutored Yoongi. They kissed.
Oh god, their first kiss.
It was messy. Stupid. Full of cupcake icing between them because Yoongi hadn’t stopped teasing Jimin for getting the icing messed up and had swiped a fat stripe of sugar over Jimin’s cheek. Jimin retaliated. And somehow, Jimin was against a counter and their kisses tasted too fucking sweet.
And then.
And then Andrew happened.
—
“I was thinking,” Yoongi starts. He looks nervous.
“Yeah?” Jimin’s swiping through his phone, sipping at his coffee. Somehow, they both meet up earlier than needed to sit by the window booth and talk.
“Do you want to hang out somewhere else? After school?”
Jimin looks up. His heart is aching to say yes, while his mind screams no, but so far. So far, Yoongi’s been so patient and so gentle. He doesn’t see why not.
So he shrugs and says, “Sure.”
—
“I can’t believe you took me to another cafe,” Jimin complains. “Why did you bother coming from the before one?”
“A change of scenery,” Yoongi chuckles.
“You suck.”
“How about I buy you anything you want?”
Jimin grins. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”
“I know,” Yoongi sighs deeply, hands in his pockets. “Go crazy, Jimin.”
—
Everyone loved Andrew.
He was the new transfer student who joined the basketball team.
But for Jimin, he was—in simple terms— a snake .
He was openly homophobic—would sneer at Yoongi and Jimin, whenever they were together—to the point that Yoongi got uncomfortable with Jimin just touching his hand while the team was around.
Andrew was a manipulator. A mastermind. What he said, the rest of the team agreed on. He was also the oldest member, so there was respect for him.
But then, he’d kissed Jimin. He’d kissed Jimin and when Jimin had pushed him away, he’d spread rumours. Rumours of Jimin cheating on Yoongi. Yoongi had confronted Jimin, who of course denied, but then—
Andrew had taken photos. He’d taken photos where it somehow looked like Jimin was enjoying the kiss and Yoongi had broken up with him. Jimin had tried to explain, but Yoongi only grew more bitter. He sided with Andrew. He began to sneer at Jimin. Began to say mean things; call him names—and Jimin knew. He knew it was Andrew influencing him, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.
Jimin spiralled.
And Taehyung —bless him—caught him in time.
—
“I got an A!”
Yoongi’s yell is loud and uncaring. It has Jimin standing up from his seat, also screeching. He reaches out for a hug, which Yoongi accepts and then they’re hugging. Tightly.
And suddenly, Jimin’s choking up.
Been in these arms; held so close to Yoongi’s chest— fuck, it hurts. It hurts so good Jimin wants to drown in it.
When they pull away, Jimin whispers a, “Congratulations, hyung.” To which Yoongi’s smile only brightens.
It’s been a while since he’d called Yoongi, hyung.
—
Andrew was expelled, later that year. He was expelled for bullying students and vandalising the school. Jimin didn’t bother to remember the details—didn’t want to remember anything about someone who caused him nothing but grief. But then, just like that, he was gone.
Going to school was much less of a burden after that. No one jeered at him in the hallways; no one yelled at him to stay away from Yoongi. But Jimin had made a point to stay to himself. He'd only ever interact with Taehyung, Hoseok and Jungkook.
Jimin hadn't tried to talk to Yoongi after that. But somehow, Yoongi had gotten to know what had really gone down between Andrew and him.
And then began the pleading. The begging. Texts left unanswered. Calls gone missed. Jimin could've blocked, but he couldn't muster up the strength to. Taehyung had done it for him instead, but not without sending him a long text that was mostly berating Yoongi.
Just like that, Jimin begins to put it all behind him.
Until now.
—
"I'm going on a date," Taehyung gleefully says. Jimin looks at him fondly.
"Stop acting like you two aren't dating already," he teases.
"It's better because we are dating actually," he pats on some blush to his cheeks. "Also. I genuinely hope you aren't getting back together with Yoongi."
Jimin freezes.
"I know you like the back of my hand, Jimin. You never got over him. But just because he changed," Taehyung smacks his lips to spread the lip balm. "It doesn't mean he deserves you. You're practically an angel. He's nothing."
"But what if he makes me happy?"
"You're someone who gets happy at the smallest things. And trust me, I love that about you. But you can't settle for the bare minimum. You need someone who doesn't just makes you happy, but doesn't have you second guessing everything. You deserve to be secure in your relationship. Do you really think you can have that with Yoongi?"
Jimin thinks about it. He knows that it's actually near impossible with Yoongi, but he'd been deluding himself. He'd thought that maybe they'd be able to forget and move on. But it doesn't change that Yoongi had hurt him; had demeaned him; talked bad about him behind his back. Jimin sometimes still falls asleep wondering if Yoongi's possibly still laughing at him. Like he did back then.
"Jimin, you know I love you right? And I'm in no way trying to dictate your love life. And I know you're not one to hold grudges. But . I just don't think he's the one for you."
He can't stop the tears coming to his eyes. It's been roughly around a few months since he'd rekindled with Yoongi, but it feels like a weight off his shoulders, now that Taehyung had said that.
He can't form any words: just uncontrollable sobs. Taehyung looks at him alarmed and then rushes to his side, arms wrapping around him.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He hastily says. "I was just saying what I felt, but if you think you can make it work—"
"No, Tae, I needed to hear that," Jimin hiccups. His fingers clutch on to Taehyung's top. "I really really needed to hear that."
"Um. You're welcome…I guess?"
Jimin takes in the warmth of Taehyung's hold. He's forever in-debt to this boy.
"I'm sorry you end up having to heal a heart you didn't even break." He finally mumbles.
"You're being stupid," Taehyung chuckles. "I love you. I'd do it over and over again."
Really, what would he do without Taehyung?
"If I'm being honest, I don't really want him back Tae. I loved him, but I can't ever love him the same again." A small sniffle. Taehyung cradles his head. "I'm so glad he's lost those friends, but I don't want him back."
"Well there you go."
Indeed.
"I should tell him."
A hum.
"I feel bad for him though."
"That's okay. You can feel bad for him, but you should put yourself first."
"Yeah. Yeah ."
—
The thing about building up trust after it's been lost, is that it's almost never a guaranteed process. There's always the doubt, the insecurities gnawing away at your consciousness. You can find happiness in the person, but can you find the peace that was once there?
Jimin sits at a bench under the big tree that stands tall and proud near the entrance of their university. The breeze is gentle on his skin, the sunlight kissing his face.
"Hey."
Jimin startles at the greeting, though he did sit here waiting for someone.
Waiting for Yoongi.
He looks up with a small smile. "Hi."
"You wanted to talk?"
"Yeah," Jimin shifts a little. "Sit down."
Yoongi does. Jimin stares at him: takes in the face he loved so much in a previous era of his life. Traces his eyes over the once loved scenery.
"So?" The older man gently prods. Jimin looks away.
"I've been thinking," he pauses and inhales. "I don't think we should do this anymore."
There's no hesitancy in his voice. He knows this is what he wants.
"What…do you mean?"
"I don't think I can give you a second chance, Yoongi. And I know I said we could try, but it's just not happening."
"Is it something I did?" The calmness surprises Jimin. Yoongi really has changed.
"Yes. But not this time around," Jimin explains. "I don't think I can ever get over what you did to me. Everytime I look at you, I keep remembering. I feel inferior when I'm with you, like I should be glad you're even looking at me. And it sucks, because I know you've changed. You're probably not going to pull a stunt like that again, but you did. And I can't properly love you when I keep thinking, I can't believe he did that to me even when he said he loves me."
Silence.
"I'm sorry if I led you on, but I figured this out myself yesterday. So."
"I see."
They watch as a car drives by them. Contrary to their mood, the outside world is bright and sunny.
"I can never stop saying how sorry I am, Jimin." Yoongi finally says. His voice is tight. "I was an idiot. But even so, nothing excuses how I treated you. I'm thankful you still gave me a second chance, even if it didn't work out. I'm so thankful for a bunch of other things as well, because you're unlike any other person. But," a gulp. "I respect your decision."
"Thank you." Jimin smiles. He stands up. "I guess this is it then."
"Yeah," Jimin looks back to Yoongi wiping away a tear. "Yeah, I guess it is."
"Take care, Yoongi."
"You too, Jimin."
And Jimin steps out of the shade into the sun: A new beginning.