Jimin was five minutes late to work and hardly out the door when Taehyung barged into his apartment in a mad dash for some clean socks. Typical morning save for the tardiness issue, because his best friend seemed to lose his socks more often than not and Jimin always had some extra pairs in his dresser. It was hectic that Wednesday morning, what with Jimin searching for all of his papers in a rush to get to work at a reasonable time and the younger boy ranting over the fact that dryers ate the left sock every load. There was no order, or reason to whatever they were doing but there wasn't much time to think, just do.
Jimin found the missing folder he was looking for on the sofa next to Taehyung's school supplies that he'd dropped there in his own dash to find socks and stuffed it under his armpit, yelling for Taehyung to lock his door as he dashed out of it with his shoes in his hand because he just didn't have time to slip them on. As he jogged toward the stairs of the apartment complex, he passed Taehyung's home three places down and found his door left wide open, and his old cat Fluffy loitering by the threshold. Jimin grunted out a few curse words because his friend was honestly too careless and shooed the cat back inside, and then shut the door so nobody would waltz in and steal anything, not that Taehyung had valuables anyway.
There was a puddle right in the middle of the parking garage that Jimin just had to step into, which was littered with car oil so the dark gray liquid soaked into his black sock and ticked at his toes. That's what he got for not putting his shoes on before he left his place, and also a repercussion for being late to his job once again. It was an honest miracle that his boss hadn't fired his ass yet, since this was a weekly occurrence.
The rusty old Subaru Wagon sat at the very end of the plot, hardly even considered a car anymore from the way it growled in protest every time the engine was turned on. More like a grumpy, unreliable monster that trudged along the best it could with the most amount of effort it could handle. Jimin patted the hood with habit and then unlocked the vehicle with the set of keys in his hand, ripping the creaky door open so that he could toss his briefcase into the passenger seat and then climb in himself. There, he quickly shoved his loafers on and forwent tying the laces to save some time, not that he had any left to begin with.
Traffic was heavy at eight o'clock in the morning, but Jimin managed to get to work twenty five minutes later which made him a whopping half hour late, and he was honestly expecting to be fired as soon as he stepped through the doors. He jammed his finger into the elevator button until it came open and wedged himself inside with a few other people, blurting out the top floor when a fellow coworker asked which department he was headed to, and then tapped his foot nervously as the lift slowly dinged to each upper floor. Everyone got off besides him, up until the very top where the doors opened to the reception room, with only one elegant looking set of doors off to the other side of the place which held nothing but the CEO's grand office.
Jimin barreled in, tripping on his untied laces until he stumbled and almost fell flat on his face. Just seconds before meeting his demise and probably cracking his head open, a strong hand caught his arm and yanked him right back up with unforgiving strength.
“Nice of you to finally join us, Mr. Park,” a voice hummed, and then the hand was gone and Jimin blinked in blind fear and excitement as Min Yoongi, his boss and further, the CEO of the entire damn company glided right past him.
Well, so much for slipping through the cracks and pretending he had never been late to begin with. Jimin gaped at the crisply dressed man as he walked to his office, and then mumbled a million curses when the office doors were closed. Behind the reception desk sat Minju who covered her delicate mouth as she hardily laughed at the situation that had just unfolded.
Jimin gathered himself and came around the desk to sit at his chair beside her, tossing his briefcase off to the side on the floor as he booted up his computer. He could at least clock in before his coworker made any other attempt to crack jokes at him, because no matter how funny it would be weeks from now, he was absolutely mortified that his boss had seen him tripping over his shoes while also being half an hour late to work. He'd been a receptionist at the place for over a year now, and yet he was still running late at least once a week and blushing deep red whenever he spotted the beautifully sculpted CEO.
Once the earpiece was securely in place and he was clocked in for work, Jimin let himself rest up against the back of the desk chair so his body wasn't so insanely tense. The morning did not go how he had planned, and he really hoped that Taehyung didn't forget to lock his door when he left for college.
Minju finished typing whatever she had been on the keyboard in front of her before pushing a hot cup of coffee toward Jimin, a knowing eyebrow lifted. “Late again. You'll get your cute ass fired.”
“Don't remind me,” Jimin moaned, and took the cup gratefully. She always seemed to know just when he was in desperate need of a pick-me-up. “I'll be fired and live out on the streets for the rest of my life.” The coffee was not too sweet and slightly bitter as it hit his tongue. He couldn't be bothered because at least it would wipe away the last traces of sleep from his head and hopefully mentor him into working better throughout the day so he wasn't slacking off any more than he already had.
Minju smirked and glanced back at her computer screen. “Did you bring the files Mr. Min sent you home with?”
Jimin reached for his briefcase and clicked it open, where he was sure he'd put the folder from this morning into. It was there, a plain but bulky beige folder which he grabbed and set on the desk. Minju leaned over to take it with a soft thank you and things were silent for a moment before she was giggling again, louder than before so that the sound practically echoed off the walls of the room.
“Unless the company suddenly turned into a college literature course, I'm positive you've got the wrong folder.”
Jimin's eyes practically bulged from their socks, mouth agape because he was honestly going to murder Taehyung. He had probably mixed up their folders in a rush to get to his job on time, damn him and his idiotic best friend.
The day went agonizingly slow after that, and Jimin was more thankful than ever when lunchtime came around and Minju shooed him off to get something to eat. Although the hour was spent driving across town to the university to swap folders with Taehyung, who grinned at the whole situation and forced Jimin to buy both of them a burger at a greasy fast food restaurant across the street. There they sat at a booth near the window and chatted until playtime was over and both of them had to get back to their respective places, Taehyung to his third class of the day and Jimin right back at work as usual.
His car puttered along and the dial showed low on gas. Sooner or later, having a car as ancient as the pyramids was going to bite him in the ass.
Jimin was back at his rightful place behind the work desk three minutes before his lunch hour ended and was thankful enough that he could be responsible once in awhile. Opening the folder he got back from his friend, the work began, recording the files and placing each finished one aside until everything was finished. A repetition, but a job, Jimin liked to say. There was much more work than he ever expected with the job he landed as a receptionist for Min Yoongi, himself. Applying for the position had him thinking he got to sit around and take calls all day, which is what he did the majority of the time but coding, filing and typing was all apart of that too. It paid decent enough for him to get buy in minimal amounts of food and an alright apartment, which wasn't located in some shady part of the city. There was much he could be thankful for, having a secure job at the fresh age of twenty-two. Not many people his age could say that, at least not now.
But well, that is if his tardiness didn't get him fired.
Minju got off an hour earlier than Jimin did, and waved her goodbye as she packed up her stuff and left the top floor. It felt lonely, and there wasn't much to do so he played on his phone and waited for any late calls to come through his earpiece, which was unlikely to happen. Wednesdays were usually slow, much like that moment, as he blasted through another round of Candy Crush and spun around in his desk chair. There was a small, thin bag of almonds on his desk that he would grab each time he came around in his seat, so that his stomach was sustained until he got home to eat a late dinner by himself.
The only sounds in on the top floor was the tick of the clock hung on the opposite wall and Jimin's careless chewing, so when the office doors opened he jerked in his seat and almost toppled over. Min Yoongi stepped out, walking rather gracefully with a few pieces of paper in his beautifully calloused hands. He moved to the desk, and then peeked up past the heavy rimmed glasses placed over his eyes, a statement piece he never seemed to wear often.
Jimin couldn't help the race of his heart at the sight of the man. He'd been crushing on his own boss since the day he got hired for the receptionist position a year ago. The heartthrob CEO of a bustling company, all blond hair and satin ties, pressed suits and polished oxfords. A perfect man, if there ever was such a thing. Jimin's face got hot by the thought of it, and he had to quickly bow his head and collect his thoughts before he made a fool out of himself for the second time that day.
The CEO slid the papers across the marble desk top until the edges hit Jimin's white button up sleeve, and then cleared his throat. “I need you to make ten copies of these, Mr. Park. Bring them into my office when you've finished.” The man's voice was velvet smooth and deep, something that Jimin wished he heard much more often.
Stuttering on his own breath, Jimin nodded for lack of a better word and took the papers in unsure hands, eyes trailed on his boss as the other man walked back into his office. Once alone, he rushed to the elevator and down to the bottom floor where the copy machines were located. It was a few minute journey, most of it spent in the lift and a few moments walking the rather quiet halls. It was five in the evening, the time when almost everyone went home save for the few stragglers that typed away in their own offices. It was lonely and almost a little eerie being deserted at the bottom floor of the building, but Jimin didn't have time to fret.
Taehyung had showed him one too many videos of ghosts haunting office buildings.
The copier closest to the door was the one Jimin picked, just in case any demon was to come chasing him, he could get out quicker. The top was already lifted so he placed the papers down against the scanner and closed it, before pressing a few buttons. The machine made a whirring noise, before beeping loudly three times to alert that something was most definitely wrong and needed fixing right away. Unsure, Jimin knelt down and pulled out the paper cartridge to check for a jam and when he found nothing, he moved to the ink slot. Which was a very terrible idea, because the moment he ejected the piece a gush of black ink came spraying right into his white shirt.
“Oh, fuck!” Jimin cried, and stumbled back onto his ass with a pathetic whine. Of course something like this would happen to him, especially when Minju had already gone home so she couldn't cover for him. “What the hell?”
The black ink had soaked through his shirt and was already sticking to his skin uncomfortably. With a shaky sigh, he pushed himself back onto his feet and angrily kicked the old, stupid machine before grabbing the documents given to him and moving to the other copier across the room. It worked on the first try, and Jimin felt like crying.
Returning to the top floor was almost as humiliating as the exact moment that his boss saw the ink damage, and for once Jimin wanted to melt into a puddle of nothing on the floor. Yoongi lifted both eyebrows and smirked, slipping out of his chair to greet Jimin at the door.
“Seems you had some fun,” he stated, a hint of a smile adorning his lips although it never appeared completely. “Thank you, Mr. Park. Go home and get cleaned up.”
Jimin couldn't get three steps into his apartment before Taehyung was jumping on him, bellowing out some unintelligible words. Of course, he had lent his best friend the spare key to his apartment and never got it back and so here he was, uninvited.
“You'll never believe what happened today, Jimin!” Taehyung cheered, throwing both hands into the air as he leaped around the living room and jumped on the sofa. “Hurry the fuck up! I have some real important shit to tell you!”
Jimin shuffled past his friend and moved to the kitchen, where he dropped his suitcase and car keys onto the table for easy access in the morning, and then unbuttoned his ruined shirt so he could get the now dry and rather sticky ink mess off of him as soon as possible. “What's up?” he grunted, hooking a finger around his tie to loosen it and pull it over his head.
Taehyung soared over the back of the sofa and moved to Jimin's side, where he took hold of the ruined clothes as Jimin peeled them off. “What happened to you?”
“Bad day. Don't want to talk about it.” Jimin had blotches of black all over his stomach and chest where the ink seeped through his shirt, which would be a bitch to scrub off in the shower. He removed his slacks too and then his shoes and socks so that he was clad in his underwear right in the middle of the kitchen. “I'm headed for a shower. Tell me now or else you'll have to wait.”
Taehyung carefully folded the ruined clothing and then carelessly tossed them into the trashcan underneath the sink a moment later. “Okay, but you need to sit down for this,” he said past his shoulder.
Jimin moaned and rubbed at his eyebrow in frustration, but complied anyway. He moved to the sofa and sat down with Taehyung following close behind. His friend had such a happily toxic look to his face, Jimin couldn't help but feel less like absolute shit just because of it.
Taehyung grabbed Jimin's hands and bounced against the cushions of the couch, suddenly squealing so loud it probably woke disturbed the entire apartment complex. “My application went through,” the younger began, and then screamed, “guess who's studying abroad in Paris?”
“What?” Jimin breathed, his heart thumping wildly, out of blind excitement or sadness, he couldn't be sure.
“Remember how I applied for that stupid study scholarship last year as a joke? Well, I was picked last minute! I'm going to fucking France in a week!” Taehyung was yelling and not making a whole lot of sense, just a lot of screaming and jumping around.
Jimin couldn't get his brain to work properly, so instead of congratulating his best friend, he asked, “How long?”
Jimin was on time to work the next day, and decided that he would be a responsible adult and get as much done as he could before the day was over. Filing, coding anything he could get his fingers on, just to prove that he was a good worker despite having a horrible tenancy to be late sometimes. The day sped by at a rapid pace for once, because he worked through breaks and his lunch, and took calls for Minju when she stepped out to get a snack.
Things were at their best when Jimin kept busy, he decided. No embarrassment in front of his boss or evil copy machines to deal with. He was more thankful than ever.
It was even a miracle that Jimin got the job in the first place. He and Taehyung had moved to the heart of Seoul on a whim; no jobs or experience, just a wad of cash and a few suitcases in each hand. While Taehyung had some type of plan to join the college, Jimin had been left to his own devices and happened to stumble on a secretary job for a booming business. He sent in his application with low hopes of ever getting called back, but within the next day Minju had called his number to let him know he had landed himself an interview.
A year later and there he was, making decent pay and only creating a fool out of himself once or twice a week.
At least he wasn't jobless.
Jimin bit on the end of his pen, staring off toward the carved wooden doors of Min Yoongi's office for a moment in thought, with Minju beside him typing away on her computer. It was rather slow for a Friday afternoon; the last call Jimin received was an hour ago, and it had been a girl who dialed a wrong number. Days like this served to make the minutes feel like hours.
The boss hadn't stepped out of his office all day, which wasn't an unusual occurrence since the man was always so hard at work. It was so admirable how the guy could devote his entire day to making sure his business ran smoothly, while Jimin could hardly go ten minutes without messing something up. He wondered what it was like to be a young man running such a bustling company, and thought it must have been hard to give up everything in order to keep a business alive.
Jimin thought of Min Yoongi often; the man was located in the heart of his fantasies, as creepy as that sounded. Was it that odd to have a wildly beating heart whenever his boss so much as looked Jimin's way? It had been like that ever since he started the receptionist job last year, because he was a lonely, single guy and his boss was a sculpted godlike man.
Minju snapped her fingers to get Jimin out of his daydream, which only made him jerk with surprise and bang his knee against the desk. He grunted softly, and threw the girl a pitiful look of mercy. Of course he had been ogling at the office doors across the room; it was a talent he had developed, he supposed. “What?” he hummed, almost uninterested because the boredom was going to kill him at any moment.
Minju reached up to slip her earpiece out, and then powered off her own computer. “I'm going for lunch. Want to come with?”
Jimin thought about it, and then shook his head dejectedly. Despite having nothing to do, he had to act like an adult and find something to take up whatever time he had left of his day. “No, thanks. I've got to get shit done.”
The girl chuckled gently, and slipped out of her chair and around the desk to grab her coat and purse. “Suit yourself. I'll bring you back a sandwich.” And when she left, the place was engulfed with a rather unsettling silence, enough to make Jimin get back to work in an instant. Without much to do, he reorganized some appointment files and sent some emails that he hadn't the day before.
It wasn't but hardly fifteen minutes later and Jimin was back to watching those office doors with careful eyes, wondering if Yoongi would step out of them and give him orders like he had the other day. Just seeing him would be much more entertaining than sitting there with nothing much to do. But alas, the man never did show his face and somehow by the end of the day while Jimin was packing up his belongings, he felt somewhat disappointed.
Back at his apartment, he tossed some leftover noodles into the microwave and put a move into the DVD player so he could spend the night alone. Taehyung was at his own place, probably busy packing enough clothes for the next six months he would be gone in Paris. It would be so lonely while he was gone, since there wouldn't be anyone to randomly invade his personal space and force him to get out of the house once in awhile. Jimin would be on his own for the first time in his life, and that thought alone was absolutely terrifying. He had never been without his best friend for more than a few days, but six months was going to be torture. Did Taehyung feel the same type of dread he did, or was he too stunned over the simple fact that he had somehow been picked to leave for France on a whim?
Jimin ate, showered and trudged off to his bedroom to get some rest. The day, although slow and boring, had been long enough to exhaust him. And with that, it was easy enough to fall asleep and dream of a certain blond haired CEO.
Taehyung was shoving the last few pieces of clothing he could fit into his fourth suitcase, the last of the haul, which was mainly filled with movies and sweaters since it was known to rain a lot in France. Jimin sat on the floor by his closet and helped his younger friend fold underwear and t-shirts so they would fit better inside the luggage, and although Taehyung's room was filled with cheery pop music, the air was solemn and depressing. Neither of them really talked much, just folded and packed away the last few things that hadn't been checked off Taehyung's list.
All of the younger's belongings sat untouched at the door, fit in suitcases that would be sent off later that day so he wouldn't have to carry all four bags himself. It was hard to believe that by tomorrow, his best friend would be leaving for a different country and Jimin would be left to his own devices for the next half a year. Not until late spring would Taehyung be back, and that was to say if he did come back at all. What if he decided that Paris was the place for him, and lived there for the rest of his life?
Jimin paused, holding one of Taehyung's shirts tightly in both hands. “Don't abandon me, okay? Come back in exactly six months.”
Taehyung, who was stuffing random, mismatching socks into his suitcase, looked over his shoulder with furrowed brows. “I will never abandon you.”
Once the last of Taehyung's belongings were packed away, the two went out for lunch together as the last celebratory meal before departure. Although most of the food was left untouched, as both of them seemed to be walking on eggshells and ignoring the elephant in the room.
“Thanks again,” Taehyung gushed, bringing Jimin in for a bone-crushing hug in the middle of the doorway, arms wrapped tight around Jimin's midsection. “I don't know what I'd do without you. You're the best.” And although the hug was a nice gesture, Jimin was finding it a bit hard to breathe.
Pushing Taehyung away, he adjusted the ball of old matted fur in his arms, feeling two small ears tickle his armpit. “It's no problem. You know I love looking after Fluffy.”
Fluffy was Taehyung's thirteen year old pet cat he'd gotten from the shelter two years ago, and despite her age she was one spunky animal. “I promise to take you for drinks when I get back.” Taehyung seemed as though he'd cry any moment, and Jimin wouldn't be surprised if he did. “I'll miss you, Jimin. It's going to be weird not having you three doors down from me.”
Jimin thought back to the day when the two had moved in to the same apartment building, three apartments separating them although Taehyung always barged in anyway. But Jimin agreed. Six months without his best friend was going to be an experience he wasn't eager to try. “I'll miss you, too. Don't forget me in France.”
“I'll never forget my best friend,” Taehyung whispered, tears collecting in his eyes as he leaned in to grab one last hug. “Call me at least four times a week, you hear me? You better answer all of my texts or I'll hunt you down.”
Jimin chuckled a bit sadly. “Of course. Now get out of here before you miss your flight!”
It was hard to watch Taehyung leave. He grabbed his bags and skipped down the hallway, singing dumb songs until he disappeared through the elevators. And although he seemed chipper and excited, Jimin knew he was only acting silly to mask the tears falling down his cheeks.
Fluffy pranced off to scout the apartment while Jimin set to making dinner for one, standing in front of his fridge staring like a five star meal would suddenly appear if he looked hard enough. He would need to take a trip to the supermarket soon. His food supply was running dangerously low; the only thing left in his fridge was a half empty bottle of orange juice and a box of leftover pizza from three nights ago.
With a shrug he dug out a slice, glaring halfheartedly at the soggy cheese and rock hard crust before taking a bite, deciding it probably wouldn't kill him to eat it.
The loneliness didn't kick in until a few hours later as he sat on the sofa watching daytime TV, the simple ache in his chest thickening until there was no way to push it down anymore. Taehyung was his only real friend he had in Seoul, all of the other people close to him were left behind in Busan four years ago when the two boys made the rash decision to move to the capital. And of course Jimin had acquaintances from work whom he liked to talk to during lunch break or during a rather slow day, but none of them came close to even knowing Jimin the way Taehyung did.
Jimin sulked for the better half of the night, binging on Netflix and falling in and out of sleep. Waking up the next morning proved to be a difficult task, only having slept for a few hours he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. By the time he was arriving at work, his hair was hardly dry, and although his clothes looked nice, his face was trashed. Dark circles under his eyes, red and puffy from sleep, movements sluggish.
Maybe he'd take a trip back to Busan for a few days and see his old friends, and visit his family who he hadn't even seen in years. It had hardly been a day since Taehyung left and Jimin was already wondering just what his life was all about now that he was gone. He didn't have any personal friends, and although he had a job, his social life dwindled to nothing without Taehyung by his side.
Jimin sighed as he reached the top floor, entering the quiet reception area where the beautifully carved granite desk was placed near the back wall, the only door in the room leading to Yoongi's office. He blinked at the handle for a moment, wondering if his boss would even care to acknowledge him today, but thought differently on the matter. Yoongi didn't have time to notice things he wasn't invested in.
Minju gave him a small wave from her seat behind the large desk, and as Jimin rounded the corner to reach his computer set she slid over a foam cup of hot coffee and two miniature muffins with blueberries on top. He was thankful that somehow she had telepathic powers and knew when he was in the slumps, and gave her a grateful smile in return.
Minju disconnected her ear piece just as Jimin put his in place, leaning back against the swivel chair with a sigh. “Rough night?”
Jimin nodded solemnly, grasping the cup with both hands to warm his fingers. Mid-October and it was already freezing the dew on the grass in the mornings, frosting the city in a blanket of translucent white. He had a horrible habit of forgetting gloves and hats and scarves, and so he suffered during the crisp commute to work. “My best friend left for France yesterday. Won't be back for six months.”
Minju gave him a knowing look, reaching over to pat his shoulder. “That's gotta be tough.”
Jimin gave an affirmative hum and pressed the power button to his desktop, waiting silently as the system booted up and the computer whirred to life. Minju was silent, and with just the two of them in the large space it seemed any little noise echoed off the walls.
Jimin kept busy for the first two hours of the morning, recording files and coding for the majority of his time. Minju had been paged to visit floor six, and when she came back she was holding two stacks of folders with papers that needed to be looked over, one of them meant for Jimin. It's wasn't until half past noon when Jimin heard the beep of an oncoming call seeping through his earpiece, and with a jolt of surprise he reached up to click the small button to answer.
“This is Park Jimin.”
“Come to my office,” Yoongi's deep, rugged voice bled through.
Jimin swallowed the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, sliding out of his chair as he moved across the reception room to Yoongi's office doors. From behind him he could feel Minju watching curiously as Jimin pulled at one of the handles and let the door swing open.
Inside was nicely lit from the glass wall showing the view of the city below them, the sun beating in past the sheer curtains to create a lovely natural lighting. Jimin closed the door behind him, letting himself take in the rather basic interior that he'd seen many times before, but never quite grasped the simplistic beauty of it. The furniture was dark along with the CEO's desk, walls painted a dark gray, the trimmings red and gold. There was a silk Persian carpet covering most of the granite flooring, deep with reds and wines, the highlight of the office.
Yoongi was dressed clad in a crisp navy suit, blond hair styled out of his face to show his sharp cat-like features more clearly. Jimin could smell him from across the room, the scent of earth hinted with pines from whatever cologne he used. Yoongi smelled rich, in all aspects of the word. Distinct and clean, not strong in heavy perfume but rather light. It was definitely a smell that only belonged to him; he owned it, flaunted it and it was alluring.
Jimin opted to stay by the carved wooden doors, back pressed up against the grooves of each marking as he waited for the man to acknowledge him. His eyes couldn't help but trace the slope of Yoongi's neck up to the jut of his jaw, landing on his plush pink lips glistening when he licked them. There was absolutely no way it could be helped, the simple perfection of him rather intricate and difficult to pass.
The scratch of a pen on paper echoed off the walls as Yoongi signed the bottom of whatever he'd been reading over, wrist flicking easily. Jimin took his bottom lip between his teeth at the thought of that hand wrapped around his cock, those pale fingers tugging him into pure oblivion.
A breath caught in his throat when Yoongi looked up at him, those dark eyes peeking past his eyelashes. The leather desk chair he was sitting in lightly groaned in protest as he sat back against it, the pen in his hands now held between his lips. “Are you staring at me?” he asked, voice deep and guttural.
Jimin swallowed hard, throat thick with a sudden arousal that attacked him from all angles. He could feel the pulse of his heart thrum through his veins, staring from his chest all the way down to his fingertips and toes.
Yoongi smirked and tapped the pen against his bottom lip for a moment before he peeked his tongue out to wet them, lowering his hands. “I brought you in here for business, Mr. Park. Let's not get carried away, yeah?”
Jimin coughed, nodded furiously as he shuffled over to the nearest chair, black leather squeaking as he sunk down into it. His hands were folded tightly together, placed in his lap in order to look professional. “What can I assist you with, sir?”
“Are you nervous?” Yoongi inquired, playfully biting at the nail of his thumb although there was nothing playful about the situation. It was all tortuous, and Jimin wasn't sure how much more he could take before he was on his knees begging.
Jimin shook his head, fingernails digging into the black leather armrests in hopes to get some semblance. “No, sir.”
A low chuckle escaped Yoongi's lungs as he stood from his seat, coming around his mahogany desk to meet Jimin in the leather chair. His fingers hardly danced against the collar of Jimin's shirt, and he was positively shivering. “I have a proposal for you, Mr. Park.” Yoongi's hand stopped at the base of Jimin's shoulder, fingers giving a light squeeze before he leaned forward, close enough that Jimin could feel the CEO's breath fan against his ear and tickle his hair. “Would you like to hear my offer?”
Jimin nodded before he even understood what Yoongi was saying. “Y-yes, sir.”
Yoongi pulled away then, deciding to take the seat adjacent to Jimin's. He tugged at the cuffs of his suit to unwrinkle them and crossed his legs at the knee, then rested against the back of the seat. Jimin studied the way his adams apple bobbed when the elder swallowed, or the way his chest rose and fell delicately with each intake of breath. And the sensation of his touch still lingered long after Yoongi pulled away, a definite burn through his clothing.
“I would like to promote you, Mr. Park,” Yoongi stated, easily. Jimin felt his entire body jolt despite his urge to keep calm. “Something like a personal assistant to me, really. You will receive a raise of four hundred-thousand won a month.”
Jimin choked on the air he'd breathed in, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets at the news. That meant he had enough money to pay all of his bills and still have enough left over for whatever he wanted. An additional four hundred-thousand won could pay off loans, car payments, and even those old library fees from two years ago.
“Before you agree to the promotion, I should go over what I expect from you,” Yoongi interrupted Jimin's train of thought, looking rather bored. “You must be available whenever I desire your assistance, no matter the time or day. I do not accept tardiness, or petty excuses.” There was a short lived pause as Yoongi shifted his gaze until they were both looking at each other.
Jimin was taken aback for a moment, lips parting in shock.
“I desire your assistance, Mr. Park.” Yoongi uncrossed his legs and sat forward, elbows propped up on his knees.
Jimin jerked his head up, jaw dropped practically to his chest. Was he hearing correctly, or was the lack of sleep somehow getting to his head? There was a long moment of silence that followed, and for a moment Jimin felt his skin catch fire as Yoongi watched him, eyeing his every move like a hawk. A shuttering breath in, equally shaking as it flooding back out of his mouth and the oxygen did nothing to calm his nerves. “Um,” he choked out, too nervous to meet the CEO's burning gaze. “To what does the job entail...specifically?”
“I want you mainly for office use, Mr. Park. I've seen how good you are with multitasking, which I admire. I need you to complete the tasks I am unable to finish, such as writing documents and taking business phone calls. And maybe you could buy me a coffee once in awhile.” He said that last part with a tiny smile before it faded back into the fiery stare Jimin could hardly even look at. “While working in my office will be a main course of action, I'd like you for personal use as well. Running errands for me, attending appointments, the works.”
Jimin shifted in his chair, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable on the tough fabric. He finally forced himself to look at Yoongi, directly in his dark irises. There was clarity in his words and sincerity in his voice, but the offer was a bit overwhelming. “Oh...” Jimin began, sliding to the edge of his seat, fingers fiddling with the sleeve of his button down.
Yoongi rubbed a hand over his knee in thought, his bottom lip once again caught between his teeth. “There are rules we must go over, if you decide to take my offer. I accept no tardiness, excuses or complains.” Jimin already knew that, although it didn't make Yoongi's words any less intimidating. “Anything I need, I expect you to be there.”
Jimin had to close his eyes for a moment, taking it all in one moment at a time. There was so much to think about, although his brain already knew the answer from the moment Yoongi told him the content of his proposal.
“I assume you'd like a few days to think this over?” Yoongi asked after awhile, jolting Jimin out of his thoughts.
Time didn't really matter anymore, because Jimin already knew what he wanted before his thought process could even catch up to him. “No, sir. I think I've made my decision.”
“And what is that, Mr. Park?”
Jimin let out a shivering breath, flicking his eyes up to Yoongi for the first time in minutes. “I would like to accept the offer, sir.”
Jimin was officially promoted the following Monday, when he came into work with an extra fancy suit on (his mother bought it for special occasions, although it was the first time he'd ever worn it) and came around the reception desk to collect some of his belongings. Most of them were already in a box shoved in the back of his old car, which he'd been far too lazy to take into his apartment and sort through. An extra box of paperclips, notebooks and a stain remover pen which was almost empty was all that was left in his drawer. It was almost sad to clean out the desk he'd been sitting at for a year of his life, especially when Minju kept sending him sorry little glances each time their eyes met.
It was the first day that he got to work along side Min Yoongi, and instead of being excited, all he felt was nervousness flooding his veins. During the time he'd worked as a receptionist, the times spent with the CEO were devastatingly sparse. Once, maybe twice a week was the only time they ever spoke, if that. It would be a rather scary transition from his relaxed environment with Minju, something he would end up missing.
Minju huffed out in unheard annoyance when Jimin finally moved toward the office doors across the room, arms folded over her chest as she watched. Jimin gave her two thumbs up and then pushed the door open carefully, peeking in first before stepping in all the way and closing the doors behind him. Yoongi wasn't at his desk for once; the man stood by the glass and peered out into the city landscape with a phone pressed to his ear. He spoke too lowly for Jimin to catch onto any words, but by the way the older man held himself Jimin was almost positive it was a call he didn't want to take.
Jimin waited by the door for a few minutes until the CEO turned around and grabbed a stack of papers from his desk, in which he handed to Jimin not a second later. “File them,” he breathed, and then his focus was back on the phone where he mumbled another set of words that sounded more like threats than anything.
Jimin looked down at the papers in his hands, and flipped through a few to get a feel for what he was working with. It was similar to what he did as a receptionist, although it seemed more tedious than before. The organizer was next to the desk, so he crouched by it and opened the first drawer to start working as quickly and quietly as he could.
That went on for a few hours, with Yoongi either taking phone calls or typing away at his computer and when Jimin finished one stack of papers, he was given another to sort and file. So far the whole thing was completely uneventful and rather boring, so much that by noon Jimin actually wanted to slink back to the reception desk and start taking appointment cancellations than whatever he was doing already.
“Mr. Park,” Yoongi said after another long minute of silence. Jimin paused his work, and lifted his head to peek over at the CEO who was scrolling through a Word document on his computer. “It's lunch time. You have twenty minutes, and I'd like a black tea when you come back.”
That was the most the man said in the last few hours, and for once Jimin felt like he wasn't going to die of boredom. Without wasting a moment, he jumped to his feat and hurried to grab his coat and wallet, which had been carelessly thrown against one of the leather seats.
Twenty minutes ended up only being ten, because Jimin had read the time wrong and panicked when he thought he was going to be late. Yoongi had stressed that he didn't take tardiness lightly, and with that he had hurriedly bought the tea his boss asked for and made a mad dash back to his workplace. When he busted through the office doors, Yoongi made a point to not hide the fact that he was rather amused.
Life just wasn't fair, Jimin decided. It seemed everything in his life was working against him, in one way or another. At least he got a promotion, even though it seemed his job was slow and boring, and honestly far more repetitive than the receptionist position.
It lasted that way for almost a week, the same filing for hours and a quick trip to the little shop across the street to get Yoongi a tea. Although the CEO switched it up a little bit half way through, and ordered Jimin to get a double shot coffee instead which had honestly been the highlight of the drawn out day he had. If it wasn't for the great pay and delicious eye candy, Jimin would have been begging on his knees for his old position back.
Agreeing to the promotion had him thinking that he'd be constantly busy, which is what he wanted so that his mind was off the fact that his best friend left him for Paris. And yet, there he was crouched by the same filing cabinet after five long, agonizing days just putting papers into their respective folders and pretending that his legs didn't ache by the end of the day.
Jimin finished filing a rather ravishing stack of papers before sinking into the chair closest to him, so his legs could have a rest from the same crouching position he'd held for the last two hours. If he didn't have amazing thighs by the end of the month, he would probably end up rioting. Yoongi had left the office some time ago and never returned, and without proper instructions, Jimin had no clue what he should be doing. So he sat and closed his eyes for a moment to revel in the silence of the office, and wondered if his job experience would stay as simply boring as that.
Yoongi's company was nice enough, Jimin thought after awhile of being by himself. They never talked much, if at all, but having the older man's presence in the office was a nice change. Getting to see the man, smell his lovely cologne and hear that deep, handsome voice every day wasn't something Jimin was ever going to complain about. In fact, it was probably the main reason other than pay that he decided to stay anyway. Just knowing the blond haired man was in the same room as him made Jimin's heart flutter like a teenage, lovesick boy.
It felt lonely when he was alone, which happened more often than he liked to admit. It seemed the busy CEO had work and life outside of his office which also included the man being gone for long hours of the day. Usually for meetings or appointments, but the elder was never gone for more than an hour. Jimin glanced at the watch on his wrist, something new that he bought so he wasn't searching for his phone all the time, and counted the ticks on the clock.
The sun was minutes from dipping behind the cityscape, glowing bright oranges and yellows across the clear blue sky. For being late October, it hadn't rained or snowed the last few days. Just clear skies with blisteringly cold wind storms at night. It did serve for lovely sunsets though, being on the very top floor of the building gave a perfect view of the fiery sight. Jimin watched until the sky glowed reds and purples, and then faded rather quickly to a dark cobalt blue.
It wasn't until Jimin was packing up his belongings and getting ready to leave that Yoongi returned from whatever he'd been doing, looking more stressed than he had before he left. Jimin straightened himself and watched the man for a moment in silence, as the elder crossed the room to reach his computer. Unsure of what he should do, Jimin held the handle of his briefcase tightly and stood in awkward silence until orders were spewed at him.
Yoongi flicked his gaze away from the bright computer screen, a pen caught between his teeth for a moment before he said, “I need you to make a coffee run for me. I'll be here late.”
Jimin blinked in confusion for a moment, and then glanced at the time on his watch. It was almost nine by then, with absolutely no way of there being any coffee shops open. He opened his mouth to state the fact, but was met with sharp eyes that stole any words from his lips. Jimin stuttered on a breath and then gave a short nod, turning quickly so he could escape the office and get out of there. He supposed whatever Yoongi said was final, no matter what. It was something Jimin had to get used to.
It was difficult to find a place that sold coffee, but after paying ten dollars because he tipped the little old lady who sold him the cup, Jimin fled back to the building and gifted the drink to a very busy Yoongi. The man hummed his thanks and proceeded to act like Jimin wasn't there, until the air turned stale and awkward and the older man sent him home.
“So, how is life without me?”
Jimin's phone was on speaker so his voice could bleed through the kitchen as he prepared dinner. It was the first phone call since Taehyung had left for France, and just hearing his voice was a bit numbing to say the least. He tried not to think about how his best friend was probably having the time of his life thousands of miles away, in a different country speaking a different language and living among France's capitol lights.
“It's been a week Tae,” Jimin tried to reason, leveling his voice in hopes that Taehyung wouldn't catch on to the fact that he was dealing with some serious inner turmoil.
“Come on! I know you miss me.” Playful taunting. It was always Taehyung's thing.
“Of course I miss you, idiot. But it's not like I'm dying.” Jimin thought he sounded weak and insecure. He let out a dejected sigh and chopped into a carrot with a knife, the chunk suddenly popping off and toppling over the counter. Maybe he should just order pizza again, although he wasn't sure his stomach could handle it. Gross, greasy food for the last two weeks really wasn't playing well with his colon. He tried cutting into the carrot again, slower this time so that the piece didn't roll off to join it's friend on the floor.
“Paris is so pretty, Jimin! I've been so busy unpacking and meeting my new teachers, I haven't been able to snap any pictures. But it's still early morning here, and there is plenty daylight so I'll go into town and bring my camera with me.” Taehyung sounded so, so excited. He always had this way of speaking when he was giddy, words almost slurring together he was talking so fast. Jimin couldn't stop the fond smile at his cellphone, but decided it was a bit creepy to grin at an inanimate object.
The first carrot was chopped, so he moved on to the celery. It was easier to cut, so he ended up chopping three stalks instead of one to make up for the single measly carrot. “That's great, Tae.”
“So,” Taehyung began after a moment of silence. “I met a boy.”
Jimin paused, neck cracking painfully as he snapped his head to glare daggers into his phone. There was no way in hell some guy was going to whisk his best friend away and keep him in Paris for the rest of his life. Jimin was entitled, damn it.
“His name is Jeongguk. He lives in the apartment next to mine. I guess he saw me struggling with my boxes, so he helped me move them all in. He's from Busan, can you believe it? He moved to France with his parents two years ago because of his father's job, but he lives on his own now.” Taehyung stopped talking for a minute, and Jimin thought maybe the phone might have disconnected. But then his voice bled through once more, sounded a bit thick and shaking. “It's nice talking with Jeongguk. It helps with the culture shock, you know? It's silly because it's only been a few days, but I miss home. But Jeongguk helps. He told me it was normal to be homesick.”
It didn't take long for Jimin to realize Taehyung was crying. He could hear it in his voice, the way the fast-paced excitement dwindled to stuttering words. Stricken with concern, he put down his knife and grabbed the phone as if he could be any closer to his best friend, as if Taehyung could feel him through the device. “You alright?”
Taehyung sniffed and swallowed thickly, he must have been close to the receiver because Jimin heard it. “Yeah. I just miss home.” Another shuttering breath and a sniff. “Jeongguk is really nice. He offered to show me around this weekend. I think if you met him, you would really like him.”
Jimin set his phone down and returned to his dinner preparation, deciding that maybe it wasn't fair to get jealous over Jeongguk so easily. If he was helping Taehyung adapt and being there for him when Jimin couldn't, the kid must not be all that bad. “He sounds nice. Just don't fall in love and forget your best friend, okay?” Jimin said this jokingly, but couldn't help but feel the seriousness laced within his voice.
Taehyung chuckled, a pure sound. Good, at least he wasn't crying anymore. “I could never!” A pause, and scuff of cardboard. He must have still been unpacking. “How's Fluffy? Are you being sure to feed her everyday? Is she adapting well to the new environment?”
Jimin threw the chopped carrot and celery into the pot on the stove and moved on to onions next. He tossed a glance past his shoulder, looking into his living room where Taehyung's cat was perched on the armrest of the sofa. She was asleep, as always, whiskers twitching. “She's perfectly fine, Tae. She eats all of her meals and has so far enjoyed her time at my place.”
Taehyung sighed. “Thanks Jimin. What would I do without you?”
“Enough about me. Let's talk about you. Anything interesting happen in the last week that I've been gone?” Taehyung was always so curious.
Jimin gulped in a breath of air, and forgot that he had never once told Taehyung about his promotion, and planned to keep it that way for awhile. His best friend made a point of exaggerating things that didn't need the extra drama tagged on to it, and decided that he would keep the news to himself until things settled down. Was the last week interesting? Maybe. He had been promoted to Min Yoongi's personal assistant and gained a monthly four hundred-thousand won. And there was a small detail that he didn't even want to think about at that moment; Jimin had been hardcore crushing on his boss, and thought about doing very dirty, detailed things while organizing files.
Jimin faltered for a moment. “Nope. Everything is the same, here.”
Jimin got a call at two in the morning on a Saturday night, which he had jerked awake from and blindly grabbed his phone to answer it. “Hello?” he mumbled, ridden with foggy sleep and locked in a dream state. He had been dreaming of Yoongi again, for the third time that week and damn his phone for waking him up at a steamy part of his imagination.
“Mr. Park? I require your assistance,” a velvety voice bled through, and Jimin had never scrambled out of bed and to his closet so quickly. Min Yoongi, the hot CEO was calling him in the late hours of the night and if Jimin hadn't stubbed his toe and felt the furious pain afterward, he would have thought he was still dreaming.
Jimin had one leg in a pair of jeans as he said, “What do you need, sir?”
“I need you to bring me the files I sent home with you. I mistook them for coding when they were actually papers I needed to sign and send off to the corporation.” As Yoongi explained himself, Jimin shrugged on the same shirt he had worn that day and a bomber jacket because he didn't have time to make himself look presentable. It was two in the morning, hopefully he wouldn't be scolded for wearing mismatched clothing items. Then he shoved his feet into a pair of black sneakers and rushed out the door with the folder and keys on his table.
Getting to the office was easy enough, since there was hardly anyone but stragglers on the streets. At the building, Yoongi was up in his office, wearing a suit and tie like always, hunched over his desk with a pen between his teeth and a phone in his hand. Jimin knocked on the wooden door to get his attention and then stepped further inside when the older man glanced up at him, waving the folder just slightly as proof that he brought it.
Yoongi grabbed it from Jimin's hand and flipped it open to check the papers with Jimin watching closely, heaving a sigh when he saw that the documents were all there. “Shit,” he hummed, and for a moment it caught the younger off guard with the sudden use of language. It took him a moment to remember that Yoongi was in his mid twenties and probably dealt with a lot of stress that cursing could relieve. “Thank you, Mr. Park.”
Jimin nodded, and decided it wouldn't hurt to stay for a minute just in case his boss needed anything more. He sunk down into the chair across from him and watched the other man begin to sign his name at the bottom of the papers, flipping each one and repeating. It lasted for a moment before Yoongi peeked up again, and then leaned back against his chair.
“You don't have to stay, Mr. Park. That was all I needed from you.” He sounded so tired, Jimin felt a ping of guilt.
Jimin shifted, and then played with the hem of his coat. “Sir, you shouldn't work yourself sick like this. It's your day off, shouldn't you be at home resting?”
Yoongi scoffed and turned back to the folder in front of him. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Park, but I have a company to run, things to do. There isn't time for resting.”
Jimin wanted to argue the point but refrained, instead deciding it was better to head back home and go back to bed. As he left the office, he glanced back at the older man to see him slaving over those papers with droopy eyes and tussled blond hair. It was a saddening, sobering sight and it only served to make Jimin want to work twice as hard.
The day was busier than ever, and for the first time Jimin finally felt like things were starting to change with his new position. He had left the building twice to buy a new stapler and a notebook for himself, since nobody obviously carried anything like that in the company. Yoongi had also ordered him to collect data from the first, third and eighth floor executives which was as daunting as it was exciting, because somehow the job made Jimin feel very important. One of the executives wearing a pencil skirt and the highest red heels Jimin had ever seen even complimented him on his hard work. If that didn't boost his ego, nothing would.
By five in the evening, Jimin's feet were aching and there was sweat beading on his forehead from scurrying around the place completing tasks for his boss. The first week of filing never prepared him for the actual work Yoongi had in store for him, if his daily work load was going to be as busy as today. And still, it was far better than crouching at that stupid filing cabinet, organizing stupid codes and papers all day.
There were still things that needed to be done apparently, as he sunk down into one of the chairs in Yoongi's office to catch his breath. Appointments and meetings needed to be set, and some canceled or moved to a different date and the CEO had other things to take care of. There was no room to complain, not that Jimin wanted to because at least he got to sit down and rest for a few minutes before starting the workload again. It would be yet another night staying in the office, working until the late hours. At least the boss was generous enough to pay him overtime.
Yoongi had worn his glasses again that day, which were falling down the bridge of his nose. Jimin had a sickeningly strong urge to push them back into place, but refrained because that more was sure to get him into a lot of trouble. Instead, he bit the inside of his cheek and continued to observe the older man from the corner of his eye. Jimin had found himself doing that a lot, always finding reason to stare at the blond because there was always something new to see. Like the freckle on the side of the man's neck, or the way he knotted his tie. Just thinking of the CEO made Jimin's heart race, and his thought process slow down to a minimum.
Yoongi glanced up after a moment, and slipped those framed glasses off to fold them and put them on the desk. “Good job today, Mr. Park.” The words were smooth and strong, a nice change from the silence that usually filled the place. “You show a lot of potential.”
Jimin perked up at that, a blush slithering up his neck and into his cheeks because he couldn't handle any sort of compliment. Especially when it came from the lips of Min Yoongi. “Oh...uh. Thank you, sir.”
Yoongi nodded, and pushed out of his chair to come around the side of his desk where Jimin was sitting. His warm, calloused hand came to rest against Jimin's shoulder, a gesture he never did often but when it happened it felt like delicious fire. Jimin swallowed hard and looked up at the older man, who was watching him closely, carefully.
The man's hand moved to his back for a moment, almost unsure before Yoongi stepped away and turned his head back toward his desk. “I left the computer on so you can organize the appointments. Leave Mr. Kang a message to remind him of our meeting next Wednesday. And send that PDF file to Mrs. Liu in an hour.” Yoongi adjusted the jacket of his suit and grabbed some papers and his phone. Jimin was still rather dazed, sitting on the chair watching the other man with cloudy eyes. “I'll be back in awhile. I've got some paperwork to do.”
The man left and Jimin couldn't help the pounding of his heart, no matter how hard he tried. How could something so simple as a friendly gesture serve to make his skin burn? He grabbed at his own shoulder to will the tingling feeling away, although it didn't dissipated even after he slipped into the office chair and began to work again.
Jimin set his mind to hard work and didn't stop until his fingers were cramping from typing so much and his head ached. By then it had grown late, but for once he was proud of all he accomplished. As expected, it was hitting midnight by the time Jimin shut the computer down and slumped into the office chair to will away the dull thud in his brain. At least his paycheck would be a good one, so that he could maybe start buying some good food instead of eating noodles and pizza every night. A soft groan escaped his lips as he slipped out of the chair and got to his sore feet, and thought it would be a good idea to buy some gel insoles too.
He grabbed his things, shrugged his coat on and started for the carved wooden doors. And it was either by fate or bad timing that the moment he reached for the handle, Yoongi came waltzing through. As cliché as it sounded, the two practically rammed into each other rather ungracefully. Jimin stumbled and almost fell back on his ass, if it wasn't for Yoongi's quick reflexes catching him in the nick of time.
“Careful,” Yoongi hummed, and Jimin froze up against him, because the man's arm was supporting his lower back while the other was secure on his shoulder. He had never been so close to Yoongi, and the warmth of his body, the smell of him was overwhelming.
Everything in his brain told Jimin to say thank you and pull away, and yet his muscles wouldn't let him. Instead, he blinked at the CEO almost timidly, carefully as though one wrong move would have both of them running away with tails between their legs. The older man's lips looked so inviting, beautifully shaped and smooth. Temptation always did get the best of Jimin, no matter how many times he denied it.
Jimin was delirious and intoxicated off the addicting feel and smell of the older man, and he just couldn't stop himself. He dipped in closer and pressed a chaste kiss to the man's lips, eyes closed so tightly it was almost painful. What was he doing? Jimin panicked then, and pulled himself away without leaving the comforting touch of Yoongi's arms.
“I-I'm sorry,” he breathed, and was just about to dart away when Yoongi pulled him in, and kissed him with much more grace than Jimin had.
Everything was a blur of kissing and touching, a years worth of uncensored lust pouring out of Jimin's heart like a waterfall. He couldn't help himself, no matter how many warning signs blew up in his brain, because the taste of Min Yoongi on his tongue was a drug he couldn't refuse. Yoongi's fingers raked down to his hips, and pulled him closer so that their bodies were touching, and their hands wandered in a hurried rush.
Yoongi blindly guiding him toward the mahogany desk, where Jimin was pushed up against it in a feverish frenzy to get closer, to touch more. He tugged his jacket off and wrapped both legs around Yoongi's waist, wanting nothing more than that, to be closer and feel everything.
Yoongi slid himself between Jimin's legs, so that Jimin could grind against his hip as they kissed. He could feel himself getting hard in his slacks, the friction of them moving together serving to make his arousal pelt him from all sides. Jimin moaned quietly, hands wrapping tightly around Yoongi's forearms to gain some semblance.
Yoongi worked at the buttons of Jimin's shirt and once the article of clothing was off and out of the way, the man moved to Jimin's slacks and tugged them down with his underwear. The tie Jimin had chosen to wear was left on. If the moment wasn't so heated, Jimin would have been rather embarrassed to be spread out and vulnerable, but the only thing on his mind was Min Yoongi, and how good it felt to have those warm hands wrapped around his cock.
It happened so quickly, one moment they were kissing and the next second, Yoongi had two fingers pumping inside of Jimin. Apparently the man had a small packet of lubricant in the desk drawer, which for the moment he was thankful for, rather than questioning it.
Jimin called out Yoongi's name loud enough that it echoed against the office walls, and the older man smirked slightly before taking his free hand and hooking them behind his teeth. Jimin sucked on them for a moment, thankful that it quieted his moans because the last thing he needed was some late night workers stumbling in to catch them.
Yoongi leaned forward to press a kiss against Jimin's temple, sliding his fingers in and out at an agonizing pace until Jimin fucked against them in a simple need to be filled. “Impatient,” Yoongi breathed, and then moved to unzip his own slacks. “Are you ready?”
Jimin's yes was muffled around the fingers in his mouth, so he nodded vigorously until Yoongi complied and led the head of his cock to Jimin's entrance, and then pushed in slowly. It took a moment to adjust, with both of them breathing hard in the silence of the office.
Jimin couldn't breathe. Everything around him was too much and not enough all at once, senses crashing and recharging so quickly his brain couldn't quite catch up. Each time he managed to get a lungful of air it all tasted like Yoongi and it was absolutely smothering, each drop of his natural smell so beautifully overwhelming Jimin could hardly take it anymore. A soft whine escaped his lungs and was muffled into the fingers in his mouth, a small hiccup forming to conceal a raw sob that dared to echo around the office. He just couldn't help but begin to cry because his entire body was aching and Yoongi wasn't giving him enough and he just needed a breath of fresh air because he was absolutely drowning.
Yoongi had one hand shoved past Jimin's lips to quiet him and the other fisted into the tie around his neck, tightening or loosening the fabric whenever he deemed fit. His hips were slow to thrust forward, cock buried to the hilt and Jimin could feel the man's sharp hipbones rubbing against his ass. And although Yoongi was deep inside of him, it never quite felt enough especially when the elder was making his movements tortuously slow.
By then Jimin's cock was swollen and angry, his entire body so stimulated by each touch and caress Yoongi gave him it was unbearable. When he felt Yoongi loosen the tie around his neck he drug in a long, trembling breath of air and let it out in the form of an unintelligible plea.
Jimin must have looked quite pitiful at that moment because it seemed that Yoongi finally took mercy on him in the form of pulling out to the tip and rolling his hips back just as quickly. The sudden movement made Jimin slip further up against the dark wash mahogany desk, his elbow knocking over the fancy jar of expensive pens and scattering them all over the floor. The sound was deafening, and for a split second Jimin panicked that someone heard the commotion, but before he had any time to dwell on it, Yoongi had thrust into him again.
Yoongi removed his fingers from Jimin's mouth and replaced them with his lips, and suddenly Jimin was overtaken with sensory overload again. Each breath he dragged in smelled and tasted like Yoongi, and the sweet aroma was enough to drive Jimin crazy. His fingernails dug angry red crescents into the man's back, fingers slipping against the smooth fabric of his white button down shirt. Jimin thought that maybe he should feel a bit vulnerable and embarrassed that Yoongi was still dressed to perfection and he was almost completely naked, but nothing could quite bother him when the elder was angling his hips up and hitting his prostate dead on.
It felt so good it was almost painful, especially when his cock had been left untouched since the moment Yoongi pressed his dick inside. Jimin's entire body was on fire, each nerve sparking with white hot flame. A whimper escaped his lips, the sound broken by another hiccup because it was all too much and he wasn't sure how much more he could take. His hand was positively trembling when he snaked it between his and Yoongi's body, trying desperately to grab at his neglected member in hopes to get some much needed friction.
Yoongi was quicker though, as his hand caught Jimin's wrist and pinned it to the desk top, his hips never faltering their relentless pace. “I want you to come untouched,” he breathed, leaning forward to take Jimin's bottom lip between his teeth. “That's an order.”
Jimin shivered at the sound of his voice, so deep and husky, the words seeming to penetrate every bone in his body. He moaned as quietly as he could muster, the sound swallowed by Yoongi's mouth as they kissed. The room was sweltering, and Yoongi had taken hold of the tie around his neck again, adding just enough pressure to where his vision swam for a moment. He blinked back the blurriness the best he could, letting himself focus on Yoongi's blown out pupils and the tiny droplets of sweat forming on his face.
Not a second later and Jimin was coming harder than he'd ever done in his life, with the mix of a sob and moan caught in his throat when Yoongi grabbed his cock and milked him for all he was worth. With a shuttering breath, Jimin slumped back against the mahogany and closed his flickering eyes, breathing hard from the way Yoongi slammed into him. And for a split second the overstimulation became unbearable, but then Yoongi's hips were stuttering and his head lolled back as he came and Jimin had never felt so good.
Yoongi littered kisses all over his neck as he gently pulled out, and Jimin couldn't contain the wrecked moan at the loss. His legs unclasped from around Yoongi's hips and fell, so that he was laying on the desk long enough to get his breathing under control.
Yoongi stepped away from him for a moment and came back with a few tissues to help clean him up, starting with the drying come on Jimin's stomach down to his sensitive entrance. “You need any help getting home? Should I call for a taxi?” he asked, his voice a bit low and rough around the edges.
Jimin took a moment to gather himself, still panting hard, entire body positively trembling. The cool touch of the mahogany desk helped to calm his nerves so he turned his head to the side and pressed his face against it, fingers grappling for anything to hold onto. “I'll be fine,” he breathed out to the best of his ability, but he wasn't exactly positive if the answer was true or not.
Yoongi adjusted his clothing and zipped up, looking like he had that same morning, perfect as ever. Jimin didn't have to gaze in the mirror to know he looked like a mess. He could feel the redness in his cheeks, the tousled hair and sweat covered body. He supposed looking wrecked came with the price of a mind blowing orgasm.
It took another five minutes before Jimin got the feeling back into his legs, and even then he still lost his balance when he finally slid off the desk and onto his two feet. If it wasn't for Yoongi catching him he probably would have face planted into the expensive silk rug.
Yoongi cleared his throat and moved back toward his desk, hands rubbing together almost nervously before he sat down and booted the computer up. Jimin blinked at him in confusion, watching as the man's eyes lost all ounce of emotion.
Jimin looked around for his clothing strewn about carelessly, finding his black slacks wrinkled in a corner. After slipping them on, he took great effort of buttoning his shirt and slipping the gray vest over top. “I...um.”
“Don't,” Yoongi interrupted with a shake of his head, hardly looking up from the bright screen of his computer. “Collect your things and go home, Mr. Park. No need for small talk.”
Jimin swallowed thickly, deciding he couldn't dare to wear his tie any longer so with a quick tug he took it off and stuffed the line of fabric into his pocket. It bunched up and made a weird bump in the front of his slacks but he couldn't get himself to care.
On one of the black leather chairs in front of Yoongi's desk was the small stack of folders Jimin had brought with him earlier, ones that needed to be looked over although the task had never been completed. He grabbed for it and held them protectively against his chest, heaving out a gentle sigh as he moved for the exit.
“Mr. Park?” Yoongi's voice rang out in the deafening silence of the office.
Jimin's heart swelled in an ounce of excitement and hope, and he turned to face the man again. Yoongi still hadn't looked away from his computer, and had a pen caught between his fingers, the same fingers that had been touching him hardly five minutes prior.
“Listen, and listen closely,” he said, finally flicking his gaze up to meet Jimin's. “Whatever happens in this office, stays here. Don't breathe a word of it, do you understand?”
Jimin could only nod, almost timidly.
Yoongi's voice dropped an octave. “With that said, don't fall in love with me. You will be fired the moment I hear any affection from those lips of yours.” A pause. “You are dismissed.”
Stunned, Jimin couldn't help but stare at the man in bewilderment. Allowing himself one more look over, he paused by the door to check if there was any visible sign of what the two had done, just in case someone was to ever see either of them. When the coast was clear, Jimin pushed the door open and fled through the empty reception area of Yoongi's private top floor, jamming a finger against the down button of the elevators.
Jimin gripped onto the steering wheel of his old dumpster of a vehicle, clutching so hard his knuckles turned a ghostly pale. His heart raced a million miles a second, beating roughly against his chest as a constant reminder of what he had just done. Hair mussed up, skin still burning, thighs aching but all he could focus on the simple fact that he had agreed so easily. Things like that only ever happened in movies, and from what Jimin knew, all of them ended very badly.
He was so fucking stupid. How could he ever be so thoughtless and do things that were so fucked up? A groan escaped Jimin's lips and he brought his back hard against the car seat a few times just to rattle his brain for some answers. How thoughtless and absolutely idiotic.
Jimin had just fucked his boss, the CEO of a bustling company filled with many important people, because he never knew when to make good decisions.
He finally started his car with shaking fingers and decided it was best to go home. He made an adult decision and he was going to go along with it, because that's what adults do.
It happened again, the following day.
Jimin wasn't sure how much more his thighs could take, his muscles screaming for some kind of break despite the nice rhythm he had started. His movements faltered for a moment, hands pressed against Yoongi's shoulders to balance himself because his body was aching and he couldn't breathe anymore. A low curse escaped his lips, a shaking hand reaching up to push the hair from his face so that the strands didn't tickle his eyes. For a moment everything was still, and Jimin let his head fall back as he relished in the sensation of Yoongi's thick cock deep inside of him, twitching and rubbing just slightly against his walls. The CEO had begun to slowly thrust his hips upward into him in order to give Jimin a break.
Yoongi was just barely hitting Jimin's prostate, his hips slow enough to tease the bundle of nerves there but it just wasn't enough. And it didn't make it any better that the elder man was hardly even thrusting, just enough to feel it but not enough to gain much.
Jimin let out a frustrated whine, rocking his hips in hopes to get Yoongi deeper. “Please,” he whispered, hardly able to form words because the ridge of Yoongi's dick was rubbing fruitlessly against his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure through his body so good it was painful. “I-I need...oh fuck.”
Yoongi's hands were placed on either of Jimin's thighs, thumbs massaging small circles into the edge of his hip bone. “What do you need?”
“Harder,” Jimin groaned, trembling as he lifted himself up off of the elder's member and right back down again. “Fuck, please harder.”
Yoongi let his hands move from Jimin's thighs to his ass and snapped his hips up in a rough thrust, settling in deep. Jimin could hardly contain the sob that teased up his throat, because his body was burning up and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it.
Yoongi started a relentless pace, thrusting up into him hard and fast because it was all about getting off at this point. And because there was nothing more Jimin wanted than to come, he tried his best to keep up the rhythm and roll his hips in tandem with the other man. It worked, because each stroke of Yoongi's cock hit Jimin's prostate dead on.
“You're so filthy,” Yoongi breathed, grabbing a handful of Jimin's ass, squeezing until Jimin let out a soft cry. “Look at you.”
It was too hot, too overwhelming. And it was like he couldn't even breathe, let alone think of anything other than Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. Jimin wanted all of him.
“More,” Jimin begged. “Give me more.”
Yoongi reacted to those words, suddenly pushing Jimin off of the chair, cock slipping out to leave him empty. Jimin couldn't stop the soft groan that escaped his throat at the loss, but didn't have much time to process it all because the next thing he knew he was being turned around and shoved against the mahogany desk. His chest skidded against the wood, burning him just slightly but there was no time to think about anything but Yoongi teasing his throbbing hole from behind.
“Give you more?” Yoongi growled low, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest. Jimin nodded feverishly, cheek pressed roughly against the desk because suddenly the elder's hand was in his hair, holding him down and nothing had ever been sexier.
Yoongi thrust into him again, and from the new angle it allowed him to go deeper, hit harder. Jimin was filled to the brim and for a moment he wasn't sure if he could take it all, he was so tight and Yoongi had a lot of girth. But then the former was pumping him just right, hitting every single perfect spot inside of Jimin that he was beginning to see stars.
Jimin's untouched cock was caught between his stomach and the mahogany desk, creating just enough delicious friction to have him coming hard against the wood and his own skin. Yoongi wasn't far behind, hips stuttering as he came with a soft moan. Jimin was dazed and a bit dizzy as the elder pulled out of him, watching with bleary eyes as he pulled the condom off and tied the base, tossing it in the trash can beside him. The man was still dressed except this time Jimin was able to undo the buttons of his shirt enough to expose Yoongi's milky chest, smooth and unmarred. Although there wasn't much time to appreciate it, because the CEO was already slipping the buttons back into their slits before Jimin could even get another breath in.
He was still laid out across the desk, knees bent and shaking, breath creating small clouds of mist on the polished wood underneath him. His skin was sticky, hair damn with sweat and there was nothing more he wanted than to take a nice hot shower and snuggle under the warm comforter on his bed. It took awhile to realize he was miles away from his apartment, rather in a stuffy office room naked and completely fucked out.
Yoongi walked up behind him, a pale hand reaching down to rub at the swell of Jimin's ass. His fingernails dug into the flesh there, hard enough to make Jimin gasp and arch into his touch. The sound of knees clicking echoed across the room and for once he was curious enough to crane his neck and peek behind him, realizing that now the elder was crouched, soft breath fanning against his thighs.
It didn't exactly register what was going on in Jimin's mind until he felt a warm, wet tongue lick against his abused entrance. He gasped with shock, a small flicker of nervousness flitting through his stomach because this had never been done to him before. No time to think, or to breathe because the next moment Yoongi was pulling his cheeks apart so he could reach more. His tongue lapped at the slick lube leaking out of Jimin, lips sucking against every part of him until Jimin was absolutely quivering.
Yoongi dipped his tongue inside, fast thrusts of his muscle and Jimin couldn't contain the sharp cry that flooded past his lips and echoed off the walls. “Fuck,” he whispered, knees buckling underneath him and if it wasn't for Yoongi's strong hold on his hips he would have collapsed. “Fuck. Yes!”
Nothing could ever compare to the sensation of Yoongi's cock in his ass, but this was a close second. Jimin didn't even know he could come a second time in such a short period, but somehow his cock was spurting ropes of white once again, covering the wooden desk and making his skin itch. His body was on high alert, each little nerve shocking his skin until he couldn't stand it anymore.
Jimin choked on a sob when Yoongi pulled away and blew a gust of cool air into his entrance, dipping in one last time to kiss his hole. When he got back to his feet, his body lent over Jimin, arms wrapping around his shoulders to help him up.
“Need a minute?” he asked, and Jimin could only nod and fall back against him, trusting Yoongi's strong hold.
Yoongi led him to the desk chair and sat him down, and Jimin slumped against the leather with a broken sigh. He had quite possibly attained the meanest orgasm of his life, and at that moment he wasn't sure whether to faint or fall asleep. He wanted to choose the latter.
Yoongi's footsteps could be heard somewhere beside him, never sounding farther than arm's reach. “I'll call for a taxi to get you home. You shouldn't be driving in this state.”
Jimin wanted to decline, but Yoongi was right. Jimin was royally fucked out, and utterly exhausted.
Jimin glanced over at Fluffy, who had been sleeping on the edge of his bed for the last few hours, and wondered if it was normal for cats to sleep so much. Of course she was old, but there was a lot of life left in her which was being spent napping all day. For awhile he wondered what it would be like to avoid responsibilities and life situations by sleeping the entire day, only getting up to eat and pee and then returning back to his bed for more delicious slumber. The last few days had been absolutely senseless and absurd, and yet all Jimin could think of was the fact that he was having the best sex of his life. And something deep within him made it so outstandingly hard to be upset over it.
He sighed, and pulled his blankets up around his shoulders to lock in some heat because he'd been too lazy to turn the thermostat up a few notches. Of course he crushed over Min Yoongi since the first day he started his job a year ago; the older man was so astonishingly handsome, with a voice so rugged and deep it was hard not to be attracted to him. Many nights Jimin had dreamed of being thrown against a desk and fucked hard by that man, and now that it was happening he never wanted it to end.
As long as Jimin didn't allow himself to get attached, things would work itself out.
Yoongi hired someone to take Jimin's place as a secondary receptionist for the top floor, but nobody in the business had even met the person until the first day of his job. Jimin had two coffees in his hand and his earpiece was playing a message someone left for Yoongi about a collaboration offer, one which he was almost positive the CEO wouldn't even consider taking.
Monday. The busiest and most exhausting day of the week. Jimin added two extra shots of coffee into his drink that morning, just to get him through the day in once piece. He rode the elevator to the sixteenth floor to pick up some documents in which Yoongi needed to look over before heading off to the top floor to greet his boss with a coffee and extra workload.
Although when Jimin stepped into the elevator, he wasn't the only one heading to the top floor. There was a man inside, wearing a casual looking suit, black hair pushed up out of his face with what looked like tons of hairspray. His lips were like a plush heart, a freckle on the top and his teeth were pretty and white as he gave Jimin a smile. It was infectious because he found himself smiling back, despite the rough day ahead.
It didn't really click in his head that this stranger was his replacement until the elevator stopped at the top floor and the guy exited the cab after Jimin. There were only three people who worked on the top floor, one of them being him and then Minju, the other receptionist. And Yoongi, who had his own office across the room.
Minju's shift didn't start for another twenty minutes so the stranger stood a bit awkwardly by the long granite desk. Jimin's palms were burning from the coffees in his hand, and the folders tucked under his armpit were going to slip from his grasp any minute but he just didn't have the heart to leave the poor guy standing alone, looking lost.
“Excuse me?” Jimin said, placing the cups on the desk by Minju's computer. “May I help you, sir?”
The guy beamed at him, nodding his head furiously as he zapped a hand out for Jimin to shake. “My name is Jung Hoseok. It's my first day at the reception job, but I'm not really sure what to do from here.”
Oh. So this was the guy Yoongi hired to take Jimin's place. Of course. Hoseok was nice looking and had a rather happy aura around him, so thick Jimin swore he could taste it. And who the hell smiled so brightly on a Monday morning besides creepy stalkers? Apparently Jung Hoseok did.
“One moment,” Jimin said, grabbing the coffees again so he could make his way into Yoongi's office. He pushed the door open with his hip and stepped inside, hardly surprised to see the CEO bent over papers with a black ink pen between his teeth.
His fingers tightened around Yoongi's cup as he stepped over to his desk, nervous as he placed the coffee on the red specked coaster near the edge of the mahogany. “Here is your coffee, sir. And the documents you asked for.” With that, he untucked the folders from his arm and placed them next to the coffee. Yoongi hardly looked up, but took a second to grab his drink and take a sip. There was a soft hum that escaped his lips, nodding at the taste.
Jimin fiddled with his fingers as he watched Yoongi jot down notes into his yellow paged notebook, in neat cursive edged with black ink. “The new receptionist arrived, sir. Would you like me to send him in?”
“No,” Yoongi said, reaching for one of the folders Jimin brought, digging inside to slip out a stack of papers stapled together, all covered in information Jimin could care less about. “There is no need. Go show him how to work the earpieces and teach him how to clock in. When he's settled, come back. I need you to finish some coding for me.”
Jimin gave a short nod, eager to get out of the office because the tension was starting to get a bit thick. Hoseok was still in the reception area, now behind the large granite desk, fiddling with the computer Jimin had previously used. The sound of the office door clicking shut grabbed his attention, eyes flicking up before his head did and there he went smiling once more.
“Minju is our other receptionist, but she won't be here until a bit later. For now, I'll show you what to do.” Jimin said, coming around the desk to join Hoseok by the computer, finger automatically reaching out to click the monitor on. Next he reached in the drawer to pull out the small laminated pamphlet which had the answering script printed out on it, something Jimin knew by heart. “This is your script. Whenever you get a call in, read this off.”
Hoseok grabbed the pamphlet and stared at it for a moment, nodding silently to himself. “Thanks,” he said with a grin.
Jimin took a few extra moments to show Hoseok exactly how to check in at work, and how to manage the name documents for those who have made appointments for Yoongi, or the business in general. It was easy enough, just a few clicks of a mouse and everything was saved and where it should be.
“This is your earpiece.” Jimin continued to explain, reaching for the new box containing the gadget that was placed by the monitor. “It will beep once for an oncoming call, and three times if someone from the company is paging you. You'll be wearing this from the time you clock in until the minute you go home.”
“Cool,” Hoseok murmured, opening the box and pulling out the foam and plastic covering the technology piece. Once he got it free, he slipped the hook over his hear and adjusted the mouth piece by his lips.
“All requests and appointments must go through Mr. Min.” Jimin grabbed the plastic and tossed it in the trashcan to save up some cleaning time, flicking off a few pieces of white foam that collected against his sleeve. “Page me if there is any issue. We usually don't get calls this early, so you should be just fine until Minju arrives. She'll be able to spend some time teaching you the ropes.”
Hoseok beamed at him as he sunk down into the desk chair, fingers reaching forward to toy with the mouse and click on a few useless documents. “Thanks for all the help,” he began, looking up at Jimin with a nod. “I never got your name.”
“It's Jimin,” he spoke, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “Park Jimin.”
Jimin didn't see much of Yoongi unless nightfall came and they met up in the office for a bit of fun. It had been almost a month since the promotion, and a few weeks since they started having sex but the same drip of regret still fell in his stomach whenever he thought about it. He wished Taehyung was there to tell him what to do, or how to handle a situation like this.
He was getting paid better, and his job kept him busy when Yoongi wasn't balls deep inside of him, so what was the big deal anyway? Other than the fact that the whole thing was a secret, and neither of their personal lives could ever mix, there shouldn't have been anything wrong. Maybe he was too naïve, too stupid to realize that fucking the CEO of the company he worked for had more cons and pros. But there was something so addicting about the man, something that kept drawing Jimin in for more even when he knew what they were doing was so wrong. He felt so good, so confident that suddenly the man of his dreams wanted him and was willing to put their jobs on the line in order to have him.
It was undeniably sexy, Jimin thought, to be fucked against a desk with a slight risk of being caught. It added to the fun of it all, despite the repercussions it held. Was it so wrong to go against the grain in life and do something wild? Or maybe it was Jimin that tried his best to outweigh the bad by making up excuses so he didn't feel so idiotic.
Jimin slid off the sofa in his apartment to go feed Fluffy for the night, padding over to the large bag of cat food Taehyung had left in the kitchen for him before he left. Two scoops into the bowl on the floor and the
old cat came running to eat some dinner. He watched for a minute to make sure she was actually eating before setting off to his bedroom, where his thoughts would continue to bang against his skull and irritate him. It was getting tiresome to have doubts shooting at him from every angle. Sure, he made a rash decision, but what was life if he didn't try new things once in awhile?
After texting Taehyung to let him know that yes, his precious cat had been fed, Jimin hid under his blankets and tried his best to fall asleep. Enough fretting, he was just going to do his job and let things go with the flow.
Yoongi had a lot more coding and filing than he had originally expected, and come lunch time Jimin was hunched over the CEO's desk, fingers flying over the keyboard of his boss' computer as he tried to catch up. The office was silent save for the heater that groaned softly from a vent somewhere off to the side, and at least the room was nice and warm because outside was bitter and frosted over. October was quickly turning to November, which usually brought on the first snowfall and freezing temperatures. Behind him, he could practically feel the cold seeping past the window.
Jimin's coffee was long gone, and although it had served to wake him up, there was no way to stop the sudden crash that followed. Working four hours on stupid documents and coding was exhausting, to say the least.
The office doors opened a moment later and Yoongi stepped inside, mumbling something into his phone that was caught between his ear and shoulder, so both hands were free to hold a stack of papers and his cup of coffee. Jimin swallowed hard, ripping his eyes away from the man in order to focus on the endless coding and filing screaming at him from the computer screen. It was hard to keep himself from glancing back up, because he could smell Yoongi, feel his strong presence despite his hardest attempts to ignore him.
The CEO's voice was deep and soft, just enough that Jimin wasn't able to make out whatever he was saying into the phone. It must have been a personal call though, from the way he mumbled some of the words and sighed every few minutes. Jimin sat back against the comfortable leather chair to give his hands a break, watching a bit curiously as Yoongi set the papers down on the chair and leaned against the back of it. All of could see was the back of his head now, his crisp clothed shoulders strong and broad.
Jimin flexed his fingers and went back to typing, hardly even paying attention to his job because Yoongi was far too distracting. He took a deep breath in, senses flooding his body until all he could think about was the man across the room. If he was going to take his work seriously, Jimin really needed to get a grip on himself and stop gushing over Yoongi.
A moment later, Yoongi ended his call and sat down in one of the leather chairs off to the side, sighing as he brought the papers in his lap to look over. The man looked stressed and tired, if the dark circles under his eyes and stiff shoulders said anything.
Jimin saved his documents and closed down the program before he could stop himself, body sliding from the comfortable desk chair so that he was standing behind Yoongi's dark wood desk. His fingers toyed with the corner of the mahogany for a moment as he thought over his actions, feeling nervous because his legs were suddenly carrying him to Yoongi's side on their own accord, as if his body was detached from his mind and had an entirely different thought process.
Yoongi flicked his gaze up for a moment, bottom lip caught between those beautiful white teeth and a rather confused look on his face. It only lasted for just a moment because the next second Jimin was on his knees in front of him and the look turned to something more serious, more controlling.
“You are supposed to be working, Mr. Park,” Yoongi stated coolly, placing the papers off to the side. As soon as he retracted his hand, his fingers caught against Jimin's hair and pulled him closer. “We are busy today, you know. I can't have you slacking off.”
Jimin swallowed hard, because he really had no idea what he was even doing. One moment he was diligently working on filing and coding, and the next second he was kneeling right between Yoongi's legs, his fingers itching to unbutton his pants, mouth watering. His hands rested on the insides of the other man's thighs, thumbs gently pushing into the skin and muscle underneath the fabric of Yoongi's slacks.
Jimin cleared his throat and looked up at Yoongi, past the wisps of hair that fell in his eyes. “You seem stressed, sir.” It was actually a miracle he said a sentence in front of Min Yoongi without choking on air or stuttering. Maybe he was slowly getting used to the powerful man's presence, or possibly even gaining more confidence.
Yoongi nodded, a hum pushing past his lips at the touch of Jimin's fingers on his thighs, and spread his legs a bit wider to accommodate the new addition between them. “I suppose I am a bit tense.”
Now that Yoongi was playing along, Jimin's hands left his thighs so he could undo the button and zipper of the man's nicely pressed black slacks and tug them down, greeted with the tight fabric of the elder's briefs. He could see the outline of Yoongi's cock, half hard and curved against his leg. And to be bitterly honest, Jimin had never seen the other man's dick this close before, since their midnight affairs were quick and to the point, and everything about Yoongi was utterly overwhelming.
Jimin bent forward to mouth at the bulge over the fabric, earning him a low groan despite hardly doing much. It had been awhile since he'd even done something like this, and most of his experiences ended with dried come in his hair and a nasty pair of blue balls. But there was just something about the way Yoongi watched him with hooded eyes and the feeling of the man's fingers in his hair that urged him to do it.
Jimin breathed in the scent of Yoongi and placed a kiss to the clothed tip of the man's cock, eyes slipping shut for a moment because he smelled so sexy. It was the only way to describe his smell. Warm and manly, with a hint of his usual earthy cologne Jimin had come to like so much. He gave an experimental lick to the small wet spot forming on the former's briefs, earning him a guttural moan of approval from the man above him.
In a single word, Yoongi tasted intricate. Like a mix of fruits and salt, watermelon and pepper. There was a hint of sweetness, almost overpowered by something piquant. Jimin sat back against his heels and let his fingers creep against the waistband of Yoongi's briefs, pulling them down until the man's cock sprung free. From that angle, he looked a lot bigger and in turn, more intimidating. Jimin grabbed the base, testing the weight on his hand, heavy and thick within his fingers.
The shrill beep of Yoongi's cellphone brought Jimin out of his trance, eyes snapping up to look at Yoongi's now irritated face. He grabbed for the phone from his pocket and stared at the number flashing against the screen, brows furrowing for a moment in distaste. Jimin was still planted on his knees, trembling a bit from the overwhelming senses jabbing at him from every angle and watched as Yoongi answered his call and stood, hurriedly tucking his cock back into his pants and zipping up, voice professional and velvet as he greeted whomever was on the other line.
Yoongi left the office, probably to get some privacy with the phone call, leaving Jimin to hopefully get a grip on himself. Jimin let out a shaking breath and sunk down to his ass, knocking back against the floor until he was laying against the Persian silk carpet with his legs and arms spread like a star. It felt like his heart was caught in his throat, preventing him from swallowing or breathing and there was an odd burn in his chest that couldn't be described as pleasant.
He blinked up at the tall gray ceiling for awhile, lost in thought. “What the fuck am I doing?” he whispered to the warm air bursting through the vents.
Hoseok invited Jimin to lunch on Friday, smile bright as he caught Jimin's sleeve just past noon. “For commemoration of my first week completed. And because you helped me on my first day,” he went to explain, and because Jimin had just set off to eat lunch alone in the cafeteria on the very bottom floor, he decided maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.
Hoseok talked abundantly, always having something to say or bring up so there was never any awkwardness that surfaced between them. It was easy to keep conversation flowing, mostly because Hoseok asked an ample about of questions, most of them said with food in his mouth because he never quite knew how to swallow before speaking. But it was okay, and a nice change from Jimin's usual Poptart and coffee alone in the break room every lunch hour.
Hoseok was currently wiping his chin with a napkin that he took from the dispenser on their cafe table, wiping at the artificial blue smoothie dribbling from his lips. His laugh was a bit obnoxious and some people paused to look over at them, but the sound was pleasant and utterly contagious. Jimin smiled behind his hand and continued to watch the other guy choke on whatever was left in his mouth and pound on his chest with a fist.
“You shouldn't tell lame jokes with food in your mouth,” Jimin concluded with a giggle, and Hoseok only gave him a comical look and continued to eat whatever was left on his plate. A soggy ten dollar hamburger and a side of cold noodles, definitely a pairing Jimin wouldn't eat together unless he was simply desperate. Hoseok, on the other hand, quite enjoyed his meal of mixed cultures and even put the two together to make some kind of super burger.
“Hey,” Hoseok began, pushing his messy plate away with a content sigh. “Some friends and I are going out for drinks tonight. Wanna join?”
And...wow. Jimin hadn't gone out for drinks in weeks, mostly because his job was taking over his personal life, with the addition that his best friend left him for France. But now that he had a bit of leeway since being promoted, there wasn't really an excuse to deny him. It would give him a chance to be a bit social and maybe make a new friend, because God knew he needed one.
Jimin twiddled with the straw in his drink for a moment, contemplating. “Yeah,” he sighed, hiding a nervous smile by taking a sip of his soda. “Sure. I'll come.”
Half past eight and Jimin clocked out using Yoongi's desktop computer, sighing as he shut down the monitor and packed up his things. His boss was nowhere to be seen, probably off doing extra work in another level of the building. Hoseok had told him to meet him at the Corner Bar a few blocks from the company, so with that he set off to his home to get dressed in something a bit more acceptable than slacks and a tie.
Hoseok was waiting at the bar when Jimin arrived, talking casually with a pretty girl and a guy who had a protective arm around her waist, all three of them laughing about something Jimin was too late to hear. He timidly walked up to them, gently tapping on Hoseok's shoulder until he turned around and gave him a blinding smile.
“I was afraid you wouldn't join,” the man admitted a bit sheepishly before calling out for a drink to the bored looking bartender across the counter. Jimin returned the smile and sunk down into the bar stool next to him, peeking over at the other two people on the other side of Hoseok. “Jimin, these are my friends Namjoon and his girlfriend Yuna.”
Namjoon had spicy blond hair, shaved at the sides and styled up into a nice up do. And his clothing choice was different but stylish all the same, black pants and sweater, a long black scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. He reached out to shake Jimin's hand, a nice smile adoring his lips handsomely. Jimin took his hand with a nod, comfortable under his gaze. For his dark clothing and tough appearance, he had a calm aura.
Yuna was much more colorful in clothing, deciding on a cream sweater and dark wash jeans, staying simple with a maroon parka over top to keep the heat in. Her hair was swept out of her face and tied up into a ponytail, showcasing her friendly eyes and a smile that was almost as contagious as Hoseok's. “Hi,” she greeted, shaking Jimin's hand once Namjoon had released him. “Nice to meet you, Jimin.”
The night went on flawlessly, with all of them talking into the late hours of the night, getting to know one another.
Namjoon and Yuna met underground during a rapping competition during their high school days, and while both of them lost the competition, they gained a trusting friendship that turned into a four year relationship. Jimin envied them. Although he'd been with various people throughout his life, nobody had stayed longer than necessary, and he never got the pleasure of being in a relationship that lasted more than a few weeks.
Jimin also learned something about Hoseok that he hadn't been expecting. Hoseok was a dancer, which Jimin was fond of. Jimin had danced as a hobby in high school, but it wasn't a practical job so it stopped when he left Busan. Hoseok taught classes to children on the weekends, as a secondary job just so he didn't lose touch with something he loved. Jimin found himself admiring that, secretly.
The four of them danced and got drunk, and Jimin had fun for the first time in weeks. Namjoon called them all a separate taxi around one in the morning, where they all bid their farewells and Hoseok told Jimin to give him a call whenever he felt like going out again. And maybe he would, because being with those three people gave him the feeling of stability in life, since everything else was a bit messed up.
Jimin was just drunk enough for his knees to wobble as he ascended the stairs to his apartment floor and stepped inside the house, stopping to feed Fluffy on his way to the bedroom. His jeans and t-shirt came off, along with his shoes and socks and his body hit the mattress with a soft thud. It was close to two now, and although he could really go for some cold pizza or noodles, the alcohol was warm in his system and his eyes became too heavy to open.
Although his body was exhausted from the stressful week, Jimin couldn't quite get his brain to shut off. Thoughts raced a million miles a second, new subjects and things to think about until he rolled on his back and stared at his white ceiling with wide eyes. He wondered how Taehyung was doing in Paris, and if that Jeongguk guy was still treating him fairly. Then Jimin began to think about his family back in Busan, all those familiar faces he left behind years ago and haven't seen since. Would his mother even recognize him if he went home, or had he really changed so much since he left that everything about him was unidentifiable? He wondered if his old friends forgot about him and moved on with their lives, or if they thought about him just as much as Jimin thought about them.
And then Jimin thought of Min Yoongi. His taste, smell, the touch of his fingers all bled into Jimin's head until every ounce of his brain was flooded with the man. The ache in his chest was back, just as it was before in the office and suddenly he was hit with a powerful gust of déjà vu, laying there staring up at the ceiling.
Jimin wanted to call Taehyung so badly and ask him for advice, because he wasn't sure what the hell he was doing anymore. Being a personal assistant to his boss, which also included casual sex and too many rules.
Jimin's mind was jumbled for awhile, until he finally decided on one thing.
Yoongi had pretty eyes.
Jimin was watching reruns of some silly drama on his day off, stomach grumbling with the need to eat but he had never been completely responsible, and therefor forgot to routinely go grocery shopping. There wasn't an ounce of food in the house, and if that wasn't enough to get him off his ass and to the store down the street, he also remembered that Fluffy was getting low on cat food. Taehyung would skin him alive if he ever found out his precious cat went without food for any period of time. Jimin grunted as he pushed himself off the sofa, shuffling lazily to his room to change out of his sleep clothes and into something more practical for the public's eye.
Half an hour later and Jimin was pushing a rickety old cart around the local bargain mart, tossing in whatever he thought looked good because his mother never taught him how to shop properly. Frozen pizzas, TV dinners, four bags worth of spinach and carrots because Park Jimin could definitely be healthy, sometimes. And because he was lazy when it came to shopping, he put two large bags of cat food in along with his things so he didn't have to make another trip next week.
It was when he was deciding between poptarts or granola bars that a quick flash of shocking blond hair caught his peripherals and something possessed him to turn his head and look, which was a very, very bad idea. Because dressed in casually ripped up jeans and a basic t-shirt with a jacket over top his shoulders was Min Yoongi himself, the filthy rich CEO of a highly grossing company who was looking at a cheap box of Cheerios.
In a fit of panic, Jimin ducked his head and tossed both boxes of poptarts and granola bars into his cart in a rush to get the hell out of there. Out of the many hundreds of things that could ever go wrong on an outing at the grocery store, this was by far the worst of them all. There wasn't even enough time to gush over the fact that his boss looked outstandingly sexy in casual attire, because Jimin was internally freaking out over how he was going to get passed Yoongi without being noticed.
He should abandon the cart and make a run for the exit, but then again, Jimin was an adult with responsibilities to uphold. And it wasn't his fault that Yoongi shopped at a low-price market with too many grannies walking up and down the isles.
Jimin let out a shaking sigh and straightened himself out, both hands grasped firmly around the handle of his cart as he started down the isle. As long as he stayed casual and quiet, he could probably go unnoticed by the blond haired guy who was reading the back of the Cheerio box he currently held in his hands. Just a few yards and he could be on his way to the checkout stand and then back to his car in the parking lot like he had never been there in the first place.
Min Yoongi looked so ravishing in those jeans, so comfortable in what he was wearing it was almost like Jimin was seeing him so much differently than he did when the elder man wore a suit. His eyes were lazy rather than demanding, posture slack and his blond hair wasn't styled at all, just clean and feathering in his eyes.
And it was because Jimin just had to stop and stare at the other man, that the odds decided they were not in his favor and somehow he tripped over his own two feet and one of his sneakers made a sickeningly loud screech against the concrete floor. It was by the fate of the gods that Yoongi turned around to find the culprit of the noise and their eyes met, and with that Jimin's stomach dropped to the floor with either excitement or terror, he couldn't decide which.
Yoongi's eyebrows furrowed for a moment as though he was confused, although if anyone was allowed to be confused it was Jimin, because why in the world was a rich guy like Yoongi shopping at a rundown market in the south of Seoul? But still, both of them stared at each other for quite some time like their lives depended on it and Jimin's heart was racing a billion miles a second.
Behind him, a mother holding a small child asked gently if Jimin could move so she could reach for a box of cereal he was standing in front of, and with that he practically leaped out of the way with a soft, apologetic hum. That seemed to break off the awkward staring, because Yoongi straightened himself so his back wasn't hunched any further and tucked the box of Cheerios under his arm.
“Well, are you just going to stand there?” he said sternly, and then jerked his head toward the checkout stands. “Pay for your things and I'll buy you a coffee.”
That was an unexpected turn of events, and for a moment Jimin just gawked at him stupidly as if the words weren't true at all. Had his boss just casually offered to get coffee outside of the workspace? And was Jimin dumbly following behind with his squeaky cart all the way to the cashiers? Obviously so, because somehow he was stiffly placing his items on the conveyer belt so that they could be bagged and paid for, with Yoongi standing patiently behind him holding his one simple box of cereal.
When Jimin had a handful of grocery bags in his hands, awkwardly waiting for Yoongi to hand the cashier a few bills for his own item, he asked, “Why are you taking me for coffee, sir?”
Yoongi got a few coins back, which he then tossed into the small charity jar next to the register before grabbing his own plastic bag. “Are you going to ask questions or are you going to let me buy you a coffee?”
The two started toward the exit, with Jimin having just a bit of difficulty with a few of the heavier things he had purchased, struggling silently for a moment until Yoongi grunted and yanked a few bags out of his hands to carry himself. And it was either luck or coincidence that the two were parked right beside each other out in the lot; Yoongi's beautifully built car looking about a billion times better than Jimin's rusty old wagon. Sheepishly he popped the squeaky trunk and tossed his groceries inside while Yoongi placed his own box into the back seat of his vehicle, and then stood awkwardly behind his own car as he waiting for the elder to say something.
Yoongi shoved his car keys into his back pocket and looked at Jimin with bored eyes, just a hint of mischief in them as always. Seeing the glint of something more than boredom left Jimin feeling a little less awkward than before.
“There is a coffee shop just down the block from here. We can walk there.” He started for it, leaving Jimin to decide if he wanted to follow or jump in his car and get the hell out of there. Jimin chose the former, and scrambled to catch up so that he wasn't somehow left behind.
Walking side by side, in casual clothes outside of work was something absolutely unheard of in Jimin's book, which made things just a tad bit weird but his heart was racing and there were butterflies in his stomach so he couldn't mind too much about it. Even then, his eyes kept betraying him and zapping right back to the man beside him so that he could soak in everything before their time together was over. Like the way Yoongi walked so boyishly in sneakers rather than oxfords, or the way the elder shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he looked at his surroundings.
Blame Jimin for staring like a stalker because a second later, Yoongi caught him watching, and offered a smirk in response before flicking his eyes up and down Jimin's person. “You don't look half bad in jeans.”
Jimin could feel his face heating up, and a billion words bubbled against his lips to find a response to that. Instead of being calm and cool, he spewed, “You look really good, sir.”
Yoongi's bottom lip caught between his teeth as always and he chuckled, a sound Jimin had heard maybe once in the many months he'd worked at for him. It was a beautiful sound, something he wanted to listen to on repeat for the rest of his life. “Call me Yoongi outside of work. Hearing sir all the time makes me feel like an old man.”
“You are an old man.” Jimin couldn't help himself, and then even though Yoongi shot him a glare that could end lives, Jimin just started laughing. He blamed it all on nerves, but something deep within his heart told him it wasn't nervousness at all, but more the fact that each moment he spent with Yoongi was another second he felt comfortable with the man.
Yoongi sucked on his teeth and lifted a brow at the remark, and for a split second Jimin could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile playing at the older man's lips. “At least I don't act like a twelve year old half the time. You have the dumbest jokes, you know?”
“How would you know? You never hear the jokes I tell.” Jimin was walking so close to Yoongi by then, their shoulders were just centimeters from touching.
“I hear the ones you spew to that new receptionist in the afternoons. They are all terrible.” Yoongi didn't look at him, but there was that barely there smile once again, and Jimin felt his heart stutter in his chest. “How do you manage to say such idiotic jokes?” And with that, Yoongi leaned to the side so that their shoulders bumped together in a rather playful gesture, and Jimin suddenly forgot how to breathe or speak.
The two of them didn't talk much after that, other than a few soft words uttered to each other when they found the coffee place Yoongi had said was down the street. Jimin ordered the same thing he did every day, just a plain coffee with cream and sugar in it, while Yoongi bought himself a green tea. There was a nice, quiet table off to the side where they sat down to enjoy their drinks, and although not much was said between them, Jimin found himself cherishing every single moment he could possibly get with Yoongi.
Which was absolutely terrible.
Jimin knew what they were doing shouldn't have happened, and that he should have said no to getting coffee with Yoongi. Because it was very apparent that Jimin felt something for his boss, and that was absolutely not allowed. It was scary, because no matter how many times he told himself to just get up and leave the little shop so that he could end the time with the CEO, he kept making silly excuses just to stay a little longer.
The two ended up visiting for over an hour, about random things concerning work. The older man even brought up the fact that he had laundry to do and wasn't in the mood to do it, which was so oddly domestic Jimin just couldn't picture it. Yoongi, wearing nothing but boxers because he was far too lazy to do his own laundry. It was honestly something Jimin would probably do too.
Seeing Yoongi outside of work made Jimin realize that the man was human, and had his own personal life and responsibilities to uphold. Which was odd, because for the longest time it seemed the only thing Yoongi did was stack files, take business calls and fuck Jimin in the late hours of the night. But this was all real, seeing the man dressed in simple clothing, complaining about how his tea was so hot that it burnt his lip was all so real.
It was almost five by the time they left the cafe and started back for the market parking lot down the street, and the sun was beginning to set behind the skyline. It was already frosting over by then, and as Jimin huffed out a soft complain about the chilled weather, his breath blew out in a heavy gust of thick mist. Of course he had forgotten gloves and a scarf, and what with his thin sweater as the only source of heat he had, he began to shiver. At that point, his car seemed much farther away than it actually was.
“I like the summer,” he said, teeth chattering together loudly. “It's warm and absolutely not cold.”
“Yeah? No shit, Sherlock.” Yoongi looked cold too, but when Jimin peeked over at him the man was shrugging his jacket off and swinging it over Jimin's shoulders.
What? Did that just really happen or was this entire day a giant hallucination? Because he had somehow run into Yoongi at a rundown supermarket, went for coffee with him and was now wearing the man's jacket because he complained about the cold.
Jimin gaped at him for a moment, noticing the goosebumps rising on the older man's bare arms a moment later. He must've been so cold, what with the numbing air hitting him relentlessly while Jimin was nice and cozy. “Thank you,” he breathed, delayed. “Are you too cold?”
“I'm fine, Jimin.” Yoongi just kept walking like nothing was wrong, as though everything was perfectly normal even though there was absolutely nothing normal about what they were doing. And because his boss left no space for anything more to be said, Jimin just went along with it and followed the blond back to the parking lot where their cars were.
Yoongi sighed into his cup of lukewarm coffee and Jimin felt the man's gaze slide onto him from across the room, a powerful stare that only lasted a second. Jimin lifted his head, fingers pausing over the laptop keyboard as he watched the other man curiously, brow lifted.
“Is something the matter, sir?” he asked, daringly.
Yoongi lifted his eyes again, his pen caught between his teeth for a moment in thought. “I'm attending a gala tomorrow night,” he sighed, slipping the pen from his mouth to tap it against his chin. Jimin followed the movement for a second, wondering if it was a new habit the man had gained. “I'll need you to come, that is if you are available.”
Of course Jimin didn't have any plans, the only thing he wanted to do on Saturday was binge watch movies and eat cold leftover noodles from three nights ago. And besides, Jimin had never even been to a gala before, so he might as well take the offer. “I'll come, sir.”
Yoongi nodded, sitting back in his chair and suddenly the air was much less tense and thick than before, like a weight had been lifted. “It's formal attire,” the CEO went on to explain, staring at his blank computer monitor for a moment in thought. “I'll pick you up by seven. We'll be riding together since I need to go over some things with you before we arrive.”
Jimin nodded, nervousness flitting through his stomach for a moment in thought. He'd never even seen Yoongi outside of work, much less rode in a vehicle with the man. His heart began to race at the thought of being so close to the former, having to be with him all throughout the night. “Yes, sir.” Jimin grabbed a slip of paper from one of his folders resting on the floor beside him and jotted down his address, rereading it four times to make sure he hadn't written any mistakes before sliding it over to Yoongi. “Should I wait outside, sir? We wouldn't want anyone seeing us, right?”
“It won't be necessary,” Yoongi confirmed with a short nod, tucking the paper in the breast pocket of his black button down shirt. “This is a business event. Nobody would make any accusations.” And it was weird how he said that, because the usual confidence in his voice wasn't there.
It was the next night when Jimin felt even more nervous than he had the day before, heart racing as he stared at his reflection in the long bathroom mirror to check for flaws. He dug out the tuxedo he wore to his high school graduation almost four years ago and thanked the mighty heavens that it still fit as perfectly has it had when he was younger. It was a suit his mother had spent a year of savings on, expensive fabric and a matching silk bow tie, the vest a deep red while the jacket and pants were black. He toyed with the hem of the sleeves of the jacket, feeling a bit too hot and cramped within his clothing.
It was almost seven and Jimin was falling into a state of full blown panic, palms sweaty as he paced the length of his bedroom. Was he overdressed? Underdressed? What if he got scolded because he wasn't blinged out in fancy gold jewelry and expensive cologne? It was a silly thought, but then again Jimin had never attended things like this before and wasn't exactly sure what to expect.
There wasn't much time to think about his issues, because his front door buzzer echoed against the walls to alert him that someone was at his door, making him jump with surprise. He cursed under his breath and left his bedroom, practically running through his dining area and living room in order to reach the door. On his way, Jimin tripped over one of his shoes scattering the entryway and almost face planted against the wall, hardly catching himself against the door handle before he met his untimely death.
The door opened to reveal Yoongi, who was standing just outside his door and staring down at his phone. Jimin's breath caught in his throat at the sight of the man, brain freezing for a moment. Yoongi was dressed in a perfectly tailored black tux and tie, oxfords newly polished and glistening. His hair was brushed neatly over his forehead, styled with just a bit of hairspray and nothing more, a beautifully natural look. The man's eyes were lined with kohl, just enough to enhance his look but not too overpowering, face dewy and shining like Yoongi was some type of god.
The man slipped his phone into the back pocket of his black slacks and let his eyes take in Jimin's appearance, which made him rather uncomfortable. Did he look stupid in his suit? Yoongi hummed, low and deep as he stepped past the threshold to grab hold of Jimin's bow tie, fingers working at it until it came undone. “Do you not know how to tie a bow tie, Mr. Park?” Yoongi asked, a light chuckle just hiding right behind his teeth.
“It's been awhile,” Jimin breathed, feeling too close and not close enough to the man in front of him. Yoongi's fingers were swift as he tugged against the silk line of fabric, tucking and folding. “I like ties better, I guess.”
Yoongi scoffed although there was no venom in the gesture, leaning forward just slightly to adjust the bow tie and tug it perfectly in place. “There,” he hummed his palms pressed up against Jimin's chest to linger there. “Perfect.”
Jimin could feel Yoongi's hot breath fan against his face, smelling sweet like mint. The man's entire body was so close Jimin could feel his body heat seeping through the fabric of his expensive tux. He couldn't help but lean forward to breathe in the earthy scent of the man in front of him, timid fingers just hardly touching Yoongi's shoulders, nails gliding over his arms.
Yoongi closed the distance first, bringing Jimin in for a soft kiss. “If we don't leave now, we'll be late,” he murmured, but made no move to pull away.
Jimin sighed against him and let his lips ghost over the former's, dragging his hands up against his chest and around his shoulders to wrap around his neck. The sensation of it all was a bit intense, leaving Jimin a bit breathless. Sparks of electricity flitted through his body, and for a moment the only thing he could even focus on was Yoongi's soft lips against his, and how the man was kissing him into oblivion.
Yoongi was the one who pushed away first, lifting a fist to wipe at his spit slick lips. “Let's go, Jimin.”
Dazed, Jimin dumbly followed, hardly remembering whether or not he even locked his front door as the two moved to the old elevator to ride down to the first floor of the apartment building. Outside there was a sleek black Mercedes Benz, a rather stereotypical vehicle for someone so rich to drive. At least it was better than Jimin's 1989 Subaru wagon, that was sure to die on him any day now give or take a few weeks if he was lucky. Inside was warm as he slipped against the passenger seating, instantly pressing his frozen fingers to the heater to warm them as Yoongi walked around the front and slid into his side.
Yoongi was a good driver, Jimin noticed as they sped down the high way. The man kept two hands on the wheel and didn't allow his eyes to venture off the road, even for a second. Which was good, especially since the roads were beginning to freeze over as a result of the cool November night. The sky was dark already, stars covered in thick gray clouds that brightened the earth despite the moon being blanketed. It would most likely snow soon. Jimin stared out of the clean windows to watch each puff of storm clouds roll over tall buildings and past the dark horizon.
“I will be meeting a few business partners tonight, Mr. Park,” Yoongi began, voice soft as to not startle the other. “Your job is to write down whatever information is given to me. I've brought your things with me. They're in the back seat.” Jimin craned his neck to look behind him, noticing the black clipboard and two folders placed neatly in one of the back seats of the man's vehicle, along with his earpiece. “I should be receiving some calls tonight, so I expect you to go through the messages and filter through them all.”
“Yes, sir,” Jimin said softly, looking back through the window. “Anything else?”
“Have fun,” Yoongi said gently, not even sparing a glance in Jimin's way. “This is your first gala, right? Enjoy yourself.”
Jimin was taken aback by what the man had said, mouth opening and closing for a moment because his words were all lost in the back of his throat.
“My first gala was a complete disaster. I was twenty, just staring the business. I had no idea what I was even doing.” Yoongi actually laughed at himself while he said it, a sound Jimin was quickly falling for and for a second he thought he was dreaming. Yoongi's chuckle was so utterly beautiful, like freshly cut grass and orange leaves in the fall. It was the only way to explain a sound so pure and inviting. “I ended up throwing up in the restrooms because I was so nervous.”
“That's awful,” Jimin gasped, trying his hardest not to giggle although it really couldn't be contained.
“These old men kept asking me if I was really a businessman because of how young I was. They thought I was there just to crash the party. I was almost kicked out.” Yoongi finished his story with a grimace that eventually spread into a soft smile that didn't quite escape his lips until a few minutes after, when both of them quieted down and went back to staring out the burnished windows.
There was valet parking so Yoongi pulled his car up to the two men waiting for him, slipping his keys into their hands easily as Jimin dug in the back for his folders and clipboard. Yoongi had slipped a fancy looking pen between a few stacks of papers, one that glistened under the dim lights outside and Jimin found himself smiling at the rather lame gesture.
Inside was grand. Tall ceilings painted with golds and whites, crystal chandeliers twinkling above them to cast a soft glow around the ballroom. There was a set of lovely white french doors across the large room that led to what Jimin assumed were restrooms and possibly a few meeting offices for business. The music was played by a small orchestra, consisting of a few violinists, pianists and cellists that plucked away to create an elegant vibe.
The people attending weren't short of luxe. Women wore expensive, shimmering gowns while men dressed in expensive suits that looked rather cheap compared to Yoongi's. And although Jimin was adorned in tux himself, he still felt out of place, as though he was a child in a bar.
“Come,” Yoongi murmured under his breath, gesturing for Jimin to follow.
The two walked through the swarm of satin dresses and overpowering cologne, ambling in a corner where two white haired men with olive skin and permanent furrows adorning their faces. One of them was short in stature and round in the middle, whereas the former was tall and scarily thin and honestly the guys didn't look like anyone Jimin would dare to associate with.
The fat man reached out a hand to Yoongi, who took it in his firm grasp and gave a strong shake. “Good evening, Mr. Min,” the guy said, voice almost as scruffy as the white mustache taking up the majority of his upper lip.
Yoongi dove into a conversation about business collaborations and future plans for future dates, something Jimin didn't take interest in unless it had something to do with him. Instead, he hooked the earpiece to his ear and listened in to the three messages that had been left for Yoongi, all of which were spam accounts. Once deleted, he moved on to skim through the few folders his boss brought, reading off the titles in his head, ordering them with a soft sigh.
Jimin left Yoongi's side and ambled to one corner of the large ball room where tables with long gold table cloths were strung over, sinking down at an empty place so he could work on some documents stuffed at the back of the folders with the fancy pen Yoongi had let him use.
It lasted for awhile, Jimin wasn't sure how long, until someone sunk into the chair next to him, the smell overpowering and familiar. Jimin lifted his head, tucking the papers back into the folder when his boss gave him a rather pointed look.
“I didn't give you any orders,” the man hummed, grabbing the clipboard and papers from Jimin's hands. “Hadn't I told you to enjoy yourself?”
The way Yoongi was looking at him made his chest ache, those soft beautiful eyes glowing under the nice white lighting from the chandeliers above. A few twinkles from the crystals attached to the light fixtures glinted against the former's face, shading parts of him to make the man look like something out of a painting. Jimin had to push down the suddenly strong urge to kiss him, rather sitting back against his chair to let his gaze flick upon the women and men waltzing on the wooden dance floor. “This isn't really my thing,” Jimin decided to say, for lack of a better sentence.
Yoongi nodded, resting his chin against an upturned palm. “To be honest, I hate galas. I only attend because I have to. Business before fun, I suppose.”
Jimin had the dumbest idea, to the point where he couldn't stop himself from suggesting it even though he knew it was such a silly thing to even think of. “We should ditch this place and go to a club.”
Yoongi scoffed, fiddling with the folder's edge for a minute. “A club? Dressed like this?”
Jimin shrugged, feeling a bit idiotic for even saying anything. It was quiet between them for a moment, the fancy music and prestigious people trying to get their groove on. It was becoming just slightly stuffy from all the busy bodies moving around, and there was a hint of smoke from some old guy smoking a cigar in the corner, with his back to everyone so he wouldn't get caught. Honestly, working on those documents seemed much more fun than attending this gala. Jimin wasn't even sure why he'd been even remotely excited to come.
Yoongi slid out of his chair and adjusted his tux, fingers working against the fabric to brush out any kinks or wrinkles. “Let's go,” he agreed, grabbing Jimin's bicep to pull him out of the seat.
“Wait,” Jimin rushed, eyes wide as he stared up at the man. “Really?”
“Why not? I always hated these types of events anyway.”
The two arrived at a rather spicy night club with go-go dancers shaking their stuff on random tables and drunk men partying as if it was the last day on earth. In the back of Jimin's head, he worried that someone would recognize Yoongi and possibly run to the press but the older man didn't seem all that worried, claiming that the club was dark enough, and everyone there was too drunk to distinguish a person from a pole anyway.
Yoongi left his jacket and vest in the car, leaving him in a white button down and slacks that looked similar to what he usually wore to work anyway. Jimin had done similar, deciding to leave his dark vest on because of the bitter cold outside. Once there were a few shots in his system, he found himself regretting that decision because the club was muggy and uncomfortable from the massive amounts of bodies creating a pit of heat.
The two didn't make any move to dance or speak until alcohol was their system, and from there Jimin was carefree and a bit stupid. He tugged on Yoongi's wrist with a soft pout until the man gave in and pushed through the grinding and popping bodies on the dance floor until they were situated in the middle of it all. The music was a remixed pop song, all base and no words, a perfect song to lose your mind to.
Jimin brought Yoongi's hands against his hips and began to sway them, light from the shots and happy from the situation. The elder man seemed to feel the same way by the look on his face, a barely there smile flirting against his lips as they messily danced to the song. And it was funny, because neither of them really knew what they were doing but Jimin tried to keep the rhythm that Yoongi kept messing up.
Jimin drank some beer while Yoongi stayed with scotch, and the two danced well into the night until both of them were stumbling and giggly. Jimin clung to Yoongi's elbow as they made their way outside and to the curb, feeling a bit sick despite the excitement flooding through his veins. Yoongi swayed as he signaled for a taxi, pushing Jimin in first before crawling inside and spewing out an address Jimin hadn't heard before. The driver seemed distressed to have two very drunk strangers in his vehicle but drove them safely anyway, which the elder tipped him greatly for.
Jimin realized where Yoongi had taken him. It was the huge apartment building that looked as if it was made out of glass, thick silver beams shining against the city lights as it towered up into the low clouds. Yoongi pushed him inside the building and into one of the gold plated elevators, hitting the last button where the lofts were. Top floor, which wasn't at all surprising.
His home was clean and rather empty, to say the least. Everything was white, save for the dark wooden flooring and black appliances. It smelled of bleach and expensive pumpkin candles to bring the scent of autumn into the place, but it was the only lively thing within the entire apartment.
Jimin didn't have much time to look around because the moment the elevator doors closed Yoongi had him pinned against the white painted wall, littering rough bites and kisses down his neck, fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. Jimin swallowed hard, fingernails pressing angry crescents into the man's shoulders when their lips brushed, overcome with each touch of the man's body against his.
Yoongi pulled Jimin down a long hall and into a room at the end of it, following the same white theme but slightly more personalized. There was a photograph of an older couple placed on his bedside table, framed in silver. Jimin pulled away for a moment to look at it, realizing a bit late that it must have been his parents. Yoongi had his mother's eyes and his father's dazzling smile.
There was a large bookshelf filled with vinyls and CD albums that took up the entire wall off to his left, something that Jimin was rather surprised to see. He wouldn't ever take the older man for a music lover, but quickly learned not to judge a book by it's cover.
Yoongi brought him out his thoughts as he pushed him down on the bed, fitting a knee between Jimin's legs as he hovered over him. And then they were kissing again, a bit sloppy but good all the same. Hands roamed, touching each part of each other until there was nothing left to study, and their clothes were yanked off and discarded.
It didn't last long, both of them too tired to really prolong anything. Yoongi came against Jimin's thighs and pumped the younger man's cock tiredly, almost asleep by the time Jimin reached his peak. The two fell asleep like that, drunkenly, messily but the night was good and Jimin couldn't get himself to regret it.
Jimin's head was pounding as he pulled himself out of sleep, squinting at the blinding white light streaming through the windows. For a moment he couldn't even remember where he was and a puddle of panic edged up his throat, eyes burning as he took in the strange bedroom he was in. White furniture, white shag rugs with large windows for walls to allow as much natural light in as possible. One side of the room was covered in an entire bookshelf of cd's and old, tattered vinyls but most of the space was rather empty.
Jimin moaned into the plush pillow and sat up, scratching at his bare stomach as he peeked over to the right side of the bed where Yoongi was curled up under the blankets. He looked so different while sleeping, so peaceful and young, almost vulnerable. Jimin bit his lip roughly as not to wake him, reaching a hand over to smooth the blond hair from his eyes. The man unconsciously leaned into the touch, looking so relaxed and calm.
Jimin slipped out of the comfortable bed and grabbed the nearest clothing item he could get his hands on, his own button down shirt and his pair of boxers, slipping them on in a haste before going on a mad hunt for a bathroom. It didn't take long to find, there was one in the long hallway complete with an expensive looking shower and silver sink. Jimin washed his face free using warm water and whatever soap the older man used, groaning deeply into his hands. The water helped to wake him up further, and his skin didn't smell as much of sweat and alcohol as before, so Jimin dried off with the hand towel placed on the rack and ambled back into the hallway.
Yoongi was asleep still but Jimin wasn't quite ready to leave, not until he knew he wouldn't vomit whatever alcohol was left in his stomach. Instead, he explored the penthouse as silently as he could. The kitchen looked like it had never been used before, although there was fresh food in Yoongi's fridge that was just begging to be prepared. Jimin reached for the eggs and instant ramen in the cupboard, throwing it all together in hopes of making an edible meal that wouldn't make anyone sick.
It felt strangely domestic cooking in Yoongi's home, wearing nothing but an unbuttoned shirt and underwear. Maybe it was the hangover talking, or possibly the deep yearning in Jimin's chest to live a life something like that. Making breakfast for two people was definitely more rewarding than making something for one.
The kitchen smelled of fried eggs and cheap noodles, a scent that filled Jimin's apartment often. He scoured the cupboards for bowls, which he found above the sink. He dished the breakfast as neatly as he could with the raging headache he was trying to battle, adding a bit more broth to his bowl as well as pouring the majority if the eggs he'd cooked onto his meal as well.
He grabbed the two bowls and headed back to Yoongi's bedroom down the hall, catching a peek at the time on the clock hanging on the wall as he went. It was almost ten in the morning, still too early to be awake after such a rough night of drinking.
Jimin pushed the bedroom door open with his hip and shuffled to where Yoongi was still sleeping, crawling over the white sheets, careful not to spill and stain anything. Sitting cross legged, he tucked his rather hot bowl in the crook of his legs and pressed the other one to Yoongi's bare back, hoping the warmth would wake him.
It did, slowly. Yoongi let out a sigh between pouted lips, brows furrowed as he reached behind him to feel whatever was heating up his skin. When his fingertips grazed against the white bowl, the man cracked an eye open and rolled over curiously. Jimin should have felt a bit embarrassed, but the hangover was making him rather fearless.
“Breakfast?” Yoongi croaked out, shutting his eyes once more. “How the fuck are you even functioning, Mr. Park?”
The use of formal language hurt, but Jimin didn't comment on it. Instead, he persistently pressed the hot bowl against Yoongi's skin until he was forced to sit up and take it. The two ate in silence until Yoongi got up to search for his phone so he could call a taxi to take Jimin home.
Jimin knew he shouldn't have expected anything to be different, and there wasn't really any reason why his entire chest was burning when he packed up his things and got dressed in his expensive clothing from the night before. And why did he feel like crying when the older man refused to even look at him?
Jimin was late to work on Monday, which resulted in Yoongi scolding him for five minutes about how tardiness could lead him to a lot of trouble in life. In all honesty, if felt as if he was being reprimanded by a high school teacher, the way Yoongi was giving him a halfhearted glare and spoke to him as if he was a child. Although, he really did deserve being scolded because the reason he was almost an hour late to his job was because his bed was comfortable, and Jimin was having somewhat of a mental breakdown.
After Yoongi stressed the importance of being punctual, he grabbed Jimin by the tie around his neck and kissed him. “You look like shit,” he mumbled against his lips. “Want me to take some stress off your shoulders?” He asked the question while pressing a kiss against Jimin's jaw, creating a trail down to his neck.
There was nothing more Jimin wanted than for Yoongi to fuck him senseless and take his mind off the turmoil currently brewing in his brain, but instead he declined with a shake of his head. Ever since his drunken thoughts just those few nights ago, Jimin had really taken the entire situation to heart. The who situation was really weighing heavy on his conscience. “No,” Jimin breathed, gently pushing Yoongi's face away to stop the flood of kisses. “I think I'd like a few days of space, sir.”
“Of course,” Yoongi confirmed with a nod, instantly backing off. His brows were furrowed in concern, lips pulled down at the corners. “Are you okay, Jimin?”
The way he asked the question was making Jimin dizzy, because his boss had never talked to him so casually in the workplace before, never stressed his worry. Jimin snapped his eyes up to stare at the CEO, who looked rather nervous standing there, like he'd just committed a sin for showing any ounce of care. “Yes,” Jimin breathed. “I'm fine. Thanks.”
“Come to me if something is bothering you,” Yoongi said suddenly, pushing the words out quick as if it pained him to say it. “If there is something you are not comfortable with, tell me.”
Jimin sighed, staring at his black oxfords in contemplation. “Well, despite the fact that I'm fucking my boss, I suppose everything is fine.” It was a lie, but Yoongi didn't need to know that.
Yoongi nodded knowingly, moving from his place in front of Jimin to return to his leather desk chair. “Yeah,” he hummed, staring rather blankly at his monitor.
Jimin ordered a large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese and sauce, an entire container of chicken wings and a two-liter of soda because Taehyung always reminded him to treat himself. And although it wasn't a healthy thought, he felt as though he needed to eat his feelings away for once in his life. Stuff his gullet until all he could think about was how terrible he felt and if he was going to vomit or not. It was his plan for a plain Tuesday night.
It was already lightly snowing outside. Just a slight flurry, hardly even considered snow because it melted before it even hit the ground. It was still the perfect weather to wear sweaters and fluffy pajama pants indoors, along with two blankets wrapped around his body because fuck it. The TV was on with the volume blasting, playing the classic Breakfast At Tiffany's.
He was missing Taehyung more than ever, and even more than that Jimin was very confused about his life. No amount of greasy pizza and soda could ever fill that type of void in his chest, no matter how much he stuffed into his mouth. The whole 'eating your feelings' didn't work like it did in those documentaries, it only served to make Jimin feel even worse about himself than before.
Taehyung was busy with classes and living a great life in Paris, so their phone calls dwindled to a few minutes once or twice a week, just to catch up. Apparently Jeongguk and Taehyung were casually dating, and Jimin was genuinely happy for them because Taehyung deserved someone to love in his life. Jeongguk had even spoken to Jimin briefly after Taehyung begged him about it for three minutes on their last call, and although the entire experience was awkward, the kid sounded like a nice guy.
Jimin was tempted to call Taehyung and tell him all about his Tuesday, and how he was currently eating a large pizza and chicken wings all by himself. And maybe even tell him that he was having sex with the CEO of a rapidly growing business and suddenly he was having these odd feelings in his chest that just couldn't be explained. Jimin would tell Taehyung that he was scared, because there was so much that could go wrong with the situation at hand. He would tell his best friend that he was confused and sad and afraid, but he couldn't. Jimin wasn't about to put a damper on Taehyung's big adventure by complaining about his stupid problems.
He reached for his fifth slice of pizza and stuffed it past his teeth despite his stomach rolling in protest. At that point, Jimin wasn't even eating for pleasure, more out of the fact that he was trying his hardest not to break down on the sofa while Audrey Hepburn smiled at him through the television. His cheeks were packed full of soggy crust and sauce, but the food wouldn't go down so he found himself spitting into a napkin and gulping down half a cup of his soda.
Would Taehyung even pick up the phone if Jimin called him? It was around noon in France, wasn't it? Jimin never really got the hang of the time difference despite his best friend explaining it to him any chance he got. His phone was plugged into the wall on the other side of the sofa, ready to be picked up and used for it's original purpose. But instead Jimin just glared at the blank screen until his nose burned and tears blurred his vision.
There wasn't even a specific reason as to why he was crying. It just happened. And he cried for hours, even as the movie ended and he drug himself into the bathroom for a long shower.
He missed Taehyung, he missed his parents and old friends. His job was fucked up because he was having sex with his boss, who also happened to be the CEO of a popularly growing company in South Korea. For once in his life, Jimin had absolutely no idea how to fix anything.
“Let's go for dinner.” Yoongi had already turned the desktop off and was headed toward the coat rack for his personal things. Jimin shook out of his thoughts and peeked up at the elder, confused for a moment before the statement took time to sink in.
“Why?” Jimin wondered aloud, tossing a stack of papers on the chair as he stood to grab his jacket. He slipped it over his shoulders and then made sure to wrap the brown scarf around his neck, too, before the boss got on his case again.
“To eat,” the man deadpanned, and then moved to the carved wooden doors. “We can walk. There is a diner near here.”
The diner was quiet despite the time, being almost eight o'clock when most people in the city finally settled down for dinner. It seemed not many frequented the place, which was nice because Jimin had been rather overwhelmed with work the entire day so having a break in peace was greatly appreciated. He wondered if that was the reason Yoongi had chosen the place, for the quiet.
They ordered their food, and didn't say much to each other for most of the wait, as always. Awkward, stagnant pauses that lasted for minutes at a time. Jimin grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and started folding it just for something to do, and his brain was somewhere far different than the distant clanking of forks and soft hums from the few people eating at the place. Instead he wondered if his boss ever thought of him outside of work and play, wondered how his life was or concerned himself with thinking over the well being of someone he was currently fucking.
It was a silly thought, but something that weighed heavy on Jimin's mind like a leech. And as he flattened his napkin into a triangle shape, the realization that two didn't know much about each other hit him. Jimin had no idea what Yoongi's life was like outside of the office, or who his family was, if he had hobbies unrelated to work. It felt so...wrong, almost, to be so involved with someone Jimin hardly even knew. Of course he had heard Min Yoongi's name for over a year, and had crossed paths with the man more times than he could ever count, but Jimin knew absolutely nothing about him.
And was it that way for Yoongi, too? Jimin hardly, if not ever, shared anything personal with Yoongi as there wasn't much to say about his life anyway. And still, even knowing that their odd relationship wasn't anything more than sex, he almost wished that the older man would even so much as act curious about the person he was sleeping with.
The food was brought out on nice, white plates and Jimin quietly thanked the waitress before looking down at what he had ordered. Fries and a grilled ham sandwich, which had been the very first thing he saw on the menu and impulsively asked for. He didn't even like ham all that much.
Yoongi rolled up his sleeves just slightly, and then plucked a french fry off his plate to taste. “What's on your mind?”
Jimin was taken aback for a moment, but gathered his thoughts before he blurted any nonsense. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“The truth is,” Jimin began slowly, almost unsure as he bit into a single fry, “you don't even know me personally. Does that bother you? Hardly knowing the man you're sleeping with?” It was a dangerous move to bring up, but the thoughts had been weighing heavy on his mind since the earlier morning and frankly the discussion needed to be had. He grabbed another fry and dipped it into the small paper cup of mustard and stuffed that between his teeth just so he had a reason to shut up.
Yoongi was busying himself by delicately peeling the pickles off his burger when he replied just as carefully, “Hardly. All I care to know is how good you are in bed.” His voice dropped an octave, cat-like eyes darting around as though he would've acted bashful if anyone overheard. Then the man took a bite out of his burger and chewed thoughtfully, without giving Jimin so much as a single gaze.
Jimin gnawed on his lip, and instead of eating another fry he just kept dipping it into the mustard to waste some time. That wasn't the answer he had wanted, but it was expected so it made no sense why his chest suddenly felt tight. “Then why did you take me out to dinner? What is your motive there?”
Yoongi finally flicked his gaze to Jimin, and then his shoulders slumped just slightly as he set his burger back on the plate. “Okay, fine. Let's play it your way.” He grabbed for a napkin and wiped his fingers hastily to get the grease off before reaching for the soda cup off to the left of him. “What's you're favorite color?”
Jimin blinked in confusion at the sudden change in atmosphere, and couldn't help the soft grin pulling at the corners of his lips. “I don't have one. I like every color.” And before Yoongi could dive into another question, the younger asked, “What is your favorite food?”
Yoongi grabbed his burger and stuffed some of it into his mouth. “Cold pizza.”
Jimin snorted, and covered his mouth with the back of his hand.
Yoongi looked almost embarrassed if not a little defensive. “What? Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Park?”
“No! I just...never thought we would have anything in common.” And it was true, that Jimin was honestly surprised that the rich CEO who had enough money to eat whatever he desired preferred cold pizza instead of luxury. The fact offered to make Yoongi more human and less rich CEO.
Yoongi busied himself with eating for awhile and their conversation sadly died for the better half of their meal other than a few murmured words here or there. Jimin watched Yoongi across the booth carefully, the way the older man wiped his mouth with a napkin each time ketchup smeared against his lips rather than using his tongue to get it. Or the way he studied each piece of food before biting into it, as though the decision of where to bite next was crucial.
Jimin had long since finished his meal by the time Yoongi was done, and the bill was then paid and the two left the diner and stepped out into the chilly air. The Christmas lights were already lit and danced down the roads despite it still being late-November, twirling up the light poles and tangling into the sparse, dead looking trees. But it was still so breathtakingly beautiful, Jimin stood in childlike awe for a moment just to take it all in. The surrounding buildings all took part in the cheer of it all, with decorations filling their shop windows and jingle bells hanging on their entrance doors.
Jimin felt his shirt sleeve being tugged and he stumbled forward, breaking out of his reverie long enough to realize he'd been staring at silly Christmas lights for the last two minutes. Blushing, he fell in step with the other man and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat to hopefully keep them warm. They started down the street, and a few times Jimin had to bunch himself up against Yoongi's side so he didn't get in anyone's way since the streets seemed to bustle with families and tourists alike. A few times Jimin got left behind by people shoving their way through, carrying bags and talking on phones and after the fourth time Yoongi grabbed hold of his hand and refused to let go.
“Do you own any pets?” Yoongi asked that randomly, when there was a rather nice clearing in the sidewalks.
Jimin glanced over at him for a moment, and then gazed down at their hands still twined together despite the dash of people mostly gone. He didn't make a move to let go, and the older man hadn't shown any discomfort in the gesture either. “Not personally. I'm cat sitting for my best friend for awhile.”
Yoongi hummed. “Why is that?”
Oh, right. Yoongi had absolutely no clue about the fact that Jimin had a best friend who currently lived in Paris, not that the subject was ever brought up anyway. It still served to show how little they really knew about each other and how curious Jimin had grown to delve deeper into the CEO's head. “He is studying abroad in France. He won't be back until spring.”
Yoongi nodded curtly, and finally slipped his hand out of Jimin's, inching a few notches away so that their shoulders weren't touching anymore. “So you're watching his cat?” It was a silly question that had already been answered, but Jimin nodded anyway. “You're a good friend to do that.”
“And what about you, Yoongi?” Jimin tried to close the gap again but it was only a matter of seconds before the elder put more distance between them. “Where are your friends?”
“Friend,” Yoongi corrected, and the way he dropped the plural made Jimin's heart clench. “My only friend lives here. I don't see him often.”
“He has his own life and I have mine. That's the thing about friends, Mr. Park. They become distant with age and circumstances.” The two stopped at a crosswalk and waited until the electronic orange hand flicked to a white figure before moving on. “His name is Seokjin. He helps out around the company sometimes, although I'm unsure if you two have ever met.”
Jimin tried to think of the name but came up short, and denied with a soft shake of his head. “You know,” he began, and then paused to rethink what he was going to say. “Why don't you go see him and spend time with him? You should always make time for friends no matter how busy life gets. In the end, they're the only people you have left.”
“It doesn't work that way, Jimin. Because life is very unfair.” Yoongi sounded solemn and rather quiet, with his head bowed ever so slightly and his breath stuttering for only a single second as though he was struggling to keep it all together. And maybe he was, but Jimin wouldn't know since every ounce of Yoongi's life was a complete mystery.
Jimin observed, and then reached to pat the man's shoulder as a gesture of comfort. “Life is what you make it.”
Yoongi chuckled at that but there was no humor laced within the sound, only pain with specks of darkness that was hidden away somewhere deep inside of him. “What's the point of living when you die anyway, Jimin?” And the way he said it didn't much sound like a question, but rather a bitter motive of the way he lived his life.
There were tiny beads of sweat forming against Yoongi's face, and as the light from the lamp caught against his skin it made him glisten. Jimin studied each droplet for awhile, fingers reaching up to brush the perspiration into the man's brow. His eyes flicked down to study Yoongi's eyes next, the ones he admitted were so pretty. There were specs of coffee and gold within his irises, scattered lightly against the deep chocolate coloration, making for an interesting eye color. The man's eyelashes were long, black and a bit straight, curled just slightly at the ends. Jimin dipped his fingers lower to gently brush over them, causing Yoongi's eyes to flutter shut.
Yoongi tasted like pine needles and sweat when they kissed, pleasant and strangely intoxicating and Jimin couldn't help the urge to moan against those pink plush lips. Their tongues danced together, tasting one another, and it was just so unlike any other time they had done this before.
It was scary, how different it was despite nothing really changing between them. But Jimin felt it, somewhere in the deepest pit of his brain he knew exactly what it all meant. In the moment all he could really focus on was each tiny freckle on Yoongi's shoulder and the amazing feeling of the man thrusting into him.
Jimin came first, with a small whimper as Yoongi pumped his cock in time with the roll of his hips. It wasn't much later until the elder finished, body tensing for a single moment before his shoulders relaxed and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth. Jimin didn't unwind his legs from around Yoongi's hips, deciding it was best to keep him there for awhile, just to enjoy the feeling a bit longer.
Jimin smoothed his hands against Yoongi's chest, his button down shirt only undone halfway but he worked with what he got. He tickled down the man's sides, stopping at his waist and closed his eyes because everything about it was so good.
Yoongi made a move to pull out, but Jimin stopped him with a gentle tug at the sleeve of his shirt, not even opening his eyes. “Just stay a little longer,” he whispered, pulling on the CEO's hands until the rested against his thighs. “Please.”
“Okay,” the former breathed, just as quiet, and stayed seated deep inside of Jimin until it all became too much and both of them parted, albeit reluctantly.
And, well...Jimin was absolutely fucked.
“Jeongguk and I had sex last night.” That was what Jimin was greeted with when he answered his phone at midnight, hardly awake because the coffee in his system had worn off long ago and his body needed sleep desperately. For a moment Jimin had to stop and let his brain function as properly as it could before he could even decipher who was speaking to him in the first place, taking a few seconds to realize that it was Taehyung, and his best friend had some pretty big news to share.
Jimin cleared his throat and sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What?”
“Jeongguk invited me to his apartment for dinner, and we absolutely fucked right on the table.” Taehyung's excitement could be heard through the phone, since he was doing his normal talking fast thing. “It was beautiful, Jimin. I swear, he's so good in bed. And trust me, I know we've only known each other for a short time but I think this might turn out to be a serious relationship.”
Jimin blinked around his dark room with a furrow in his brow, taking a moment to process it all. “That's wonderful, I guess. I mean, I don't really want to hear about your sex life because gross. But really, I'm so happy for you Tae.”
“Really?” Taehyung whispered, sounding hopeful. “I was afraid you'd get mad because I always take things too fast. But Jeongguk is different, you know? He's so good to me.”
“I wouldn't be upset with you, Tae,” Jimin said, giving up on sleeping as he crawled out of bed and ambled out of his room and into the kitchen. There was leftover pizza from his Tuesday night, and although it was Thursday he was almost sure it was still okay to eat. He dug out a slice and stuffed half of it in his mouth. “I think Jeongguk will be good for you. Just be careful, okay? You know I'll kill him if he hurts you.”
Taehyung laughed, loud and twinkling. “Yes, I know.” There was a pause, so Jimin took the time to grab the almost empty two-liter of soda and open the cap to take a swig. “I'm really happy, Jimin. Things are all falling into place.”
“I'm glad.” Jimin grabbed his phone and the items of food and went back to his room to lay in bed, still chewing thoughtlessly on the hard pizza. “You deserve this, Tae.”
“You think so?”
Jimin nodded, although he knew Taehyung couldn't see the gesture. “Yeah. I do.
“Thanks, Jimin. So, how are things in your life? Have you even stepped out of your house since I left?”
Jimin didn't want to talk about his life, because it reminded him of things he didn't want to think about and frankly he was trying to avoid his problems the best he could. But Taehyung was always curious, no matter the situation. “Things are great.” He felt like shit for lying. “I went out for drinks with a new coworker of mine awhile ago. He's nice.”
“Ooh,” Taehyung squealed. “He? Is he possibly a new love interest?”
“No,” Jimin sighed. “Just a friend. Well, hardly a friend. We only hung out once at the bar and that was a few weeks ago.”
“Love happens when you least expect it, Jiminnie!” his best friend hollered, and the sound made the speakers on Jimin's phones squeak in protest.
Jimin thought that yeah, Taehyung was right about that. And sometimes, it wasn't a good thing.
“We're going to the bar again tonight,” Hoseok began, slurping at his sugared down iced coffee as he and Jimin made their way back to the tall company building down the block. They had gone for lunch again for a change of scenery, but work never quite gave them a break so things had to be cut short. “Want to join? Namjoon and Yuna really had fun with you, and so did I. It would be awesome if you could come.”
Jimin looked over at him, half of his face covered by a thick scarf because November was finally in full swing which meant even colder weather than before. Finally after so many weeks of forgetting, he had finally brought a scarf with him, although he still forgot his gloves and hat. “Um,” he began, thinking back to if he had plans. “Sure. I'd love to come.”
“Great,” Hoseok beamed, bouncing on the balls of his feet and Jimin thought he looked like a kid. The two entered the building and began shedding their coats and scarves as they rode the elevator to the top floor. “I'll meet you there, same time as last week.”
“I need you to stay after work,” Yoongi stated the same moment Jimin began packing up his things. It was eight thirty, the time Jimin should be getting off work and heading home to change into causal clothes. He looked over at Yoongi with a frown, still making a point of stuffing his papers into their correct folders and grabbing his things.
“I can't, sir,” Jimin stated. “I made plans with a friend tonight.”
“The plans can wait,” Yoongi confirmed, voice strong and deep. “Part of your job is being available whenever I need your assistance.”
Jimin huffed and tossed his bag over one shoulder, dressed in his coat and scarf, ready to head home. “Yoongi, I'm not canceling my plans.” He wasn't sure where he had become so bold, because just days ago the simple word of the CEO's name had him nervous and trembling. Maybe all the stress was finally making him crack. “I'm going out tonight and having fun. I've worked enough overtime this week.”
The black ink pen in Yoongi's hand paused above the papers he was scribbling on, eyes flicking up to glare daggers into Jimin's head. “I assume you're perusing a rather personal relationship with the new receptionist, am I wrong?” His voice was low, said between clenched teeth. “Is that who you're going to see tonight, Mr. Park? Is this your reason for failing to lend your assistance?”
“So what if I'm going to see him,” Jimin snapped back, just as quickly. “Part of this agreement was that our personal lives didn't mix.”
The former looked torn as he flicked his eyes back down to his papers, his grip loosening and tightening against the pen until he gave up and flicked it across his desk instead. His hand reached forward to grab an impressive stack of papers from the corner of his desk, sliding from his desk chair so that he could move to where Jimin was standing across the room. The man shoved them against Jimin's chest rather roughly before turning on his heels to escape back behind his desk. “I expect those files to be sorted and read over by Monday.”
Jimin stared at the workload in his arms, jaw slack with surprise. “This is too much,” he protested, voice raising so that it echoed against the office walls. “I couldn't finish all of these in a week, much less two days! You're only doing this because you're angry, aren't you?”
“Get out of my office,” Yoongi ordered calmly, returning back to his papers. “I'll see you Monday morning, Mr. Park.”
Jimin got seriously drunk. So drunk that he stumbled into the men's bathroom with the help of Hoseok's strong arms and vomited in the toilet until nothing was left. He was a sobbing mess, the back of his hand wiping at the spit and bile on his chin as he wretched and cried into the toilet bowl. It wasn't a smart idea to take so many shots in such a short amount of time, but he was angry and hurt, and so damn confused.
Hoseok was behind him, rubbing his back and smoothing the hair out of his eyes. It made the situation so much worse, because the two hardly knew each other and yet there they were, smashed inside a gross restroom cubical while Jimin puked his guts out and Hoseok was there to watch.
It was all Yoongi's fault, that bastard. Jimin reached up to push the hair out of his eyes, and then looked past his shoulder to study Hoseok's face. “You know,” he grunted, jabbing a finger at the older guy. “He acts like such a cock sometimes!”
“Who?” Hoseok inquired gently, and his wide hand reached up to pat Jimin between the shoulders.
Jimin felt like he was going to puke again. He faced back toward the bowl of the toilet and gripped the seat firmly so he didn't fall in, shaking arms hardly doing much to hold him up anyway. “Yoongi! He got so...mad! You know? And he's rude and cold but Hoseok...I like him so fucking much.” And then he vomited again, hard and messily so that his chest ached and his clothes were ruined with bile.
“We should get you home,” Hoseok said softly, once Jimin was sure he wasn't going to throw up again. Most of the journey to his apartment was forgotten since Jimin had fallen in and out of sleep, but what he could remember was telling Hoseok his address while laying in the backseat of his car with a plastic bag over his mouth in case he vomited again.
The next morning Jimin woke up with a glass of water and two aspirins on his bedside table, with a note saying Call me when you're feeling better signed in Hoseok's messy scrawl. He moaned softly and flopped back against his pillows, feeling like the worlds worst person because he decided to lose control and drink himself stupid in front of people he was only beginning to know.
Jimin didn't call Hoseok, but rather text him to tell the guy he hadn't died in his sleep from choking on stomach acid and shut his phone off promptly afterward. The rest of the day was spent in his bed, wallowing in self pity with the worlds greatest hangover threatening to slowly kill him.
Jimin finished the documents Yoongi had given him and brought them into work with him on Monday, like he'd been informed to do. His legs were stiff as he rode the elevator up to the top floor, an unsettling feeling welling within the pit of his stomach. He wondered if anything would be different between him and Yoongi because of the argument held on Friday, and hoped with all his might that wasn't the case. In all reality, Jimin wasn't even sure why he was nervous about anything. It wasn't as though he had any type of personal relationship with Yoongi, not really. It was all business, even the sex.
The reception room was quiet, both Minju and Hoseok typing away on their computers as though their lives depended on it. And well, they kind of did, because a job meant money and money was what made the world go around. As Jimin walked through the elevator threshold, Hoseok looked up from the monitor and waved shyly, most of his face hidden from view, courtesy of the tall counters.
Minju slipped her earpiece out and ran her fingers through her golden hair, giving Jimin a look he knew all too well. “Boss is in a mood today,” she hummed, reaching forward to wiggle a paper bag into view. “Good luck, my friend. Here is some breakfast for you.”
Jimin crossed the floor to grab it, ignoring the growl of his stomach at the smell of whatever delicious treat awaited him, because Yoongi was in a bad mood and he wasn't sure if he wanted to deal with that. He flicked his eyes from Minju to Hoseok, stalling for time he didn't have. “Thanks,” he sighed. “I guess it's time to enter hell.” With that, he turned toward the carved wooden doors and swallowed down the nervousness lodged in his throat.
Yoongi was silent for most of the morning, typing away furiously on his keyboard, entire body stiff. Jimin had made it a point to keep his distance, and only ask questions if there was something he wasn't sure about which were left unanswered anyway. There was a suffocating uneasiness around them, drowning the room until Jimin could hardly focus on anything but that.
Minutes turned into hours, and come noon Yoongi finally cracked and shoved out of his chair, stalking over to Jimin to rip the documents from his lap and toss them to the side. He surged forward, fingers catching in Jimin's hair, so tightly it teetered between pleasure and pain, and for a moment everything advanced at a dizzying pace. The two were kissing, with Yoongi being aggressive and Jimin just trying his hardest to keep up.
“I'm sorry,” he finally said, just a breath of a whisper as he pulled himself away and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Jimin couldn't do much, just stare at him with wide eyes and a pounding heart, because what the hell just happened? “I was an asshole last Friday. And I'm sorry.”
It was weird to hear him apologize like that, sounding like a wounded animal, eyes cast downward as though he was nervous for the outcome. Jimin pushed his thoughts aside and pushed off the chair, bringing the CEO in for a hug, which was awkward and a little stupid, but comforting nonetheless. Because it must have taken some serious balls for the elder to say the first sorry, and Jimin just didn't have it in him to discard the apology.
“It's okay,” Jimin sighed, sinking back down onto his chair. His lips stung a bit, and felt tingly from the roughly initiated kiss, but it was a nice feeling, something he could get used to.
Both of them went on with the usual routine of filing, coding and silence. Everything seemed to fall back into place after the impromptu apology, even so much as an odd joke from Yoongi after he returned from lunch, with a punchline so cringe worthy the older man even blushed.
Jimin drove home that night feeling a little less terrible, because at least Yoongi didn't hate him, and his job was still keeping him busy enough to not think about his issues. Home life was very different though, because the constant push and pull of thoughts was probably going to kill him eventually, if he didn't have a complete breakdown beforehand. Confusing feelings attacked him the moment he stepped past the threshold of his apartment, weighing him down until he was forced to wallow in self pity.
He wished there was somebody he could confide in, even for just a moment. To tell someone that he was stuck in a place in his life where he wasn't exactly sure what to do to move forward. Did he keep going with this whole Personal Assistant/Sex Partner thing, or did he quit the position and move on. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to choose the former. Being with Yoongi made him feel so good, and wanted, something he desperately craved. Just a single touch from the older man had him trembling, wanting more. But maybe that something more was too complicated, and therefore left Jimin feeling empty.
Would Taehyung call him reckless? Honestly, fucking your boss was already foolhardy, but continuing with it was on an entirely different level.
Jimin kicked his shoes off the moment he stepped inside his apartment, making a mad dash for the shower to get his thoughts in order. He was a grown adult, who could make decisions for himself. Doubting his choices was going to give him an aneurism at the fresh age of twenty-two. So what if he was having sex with the CEO of the company he worked for?
Jimin was entirely fucked, that was for sure.
He was towel drying his hair, moping around in an old set of pajamas that probably hadn't been washed in a week, but a life crisis such as this didn't call for clean clothes. The sofa had become something like a safe haven, a place where he could curl up and forget the world for awhile, which is what he'd been doing each night after work for the last few weeks. There was a blanket and pillow waiting for him as he discarded his damp towel on the floor and grabbed a random bag of potato chips from the cupboard above the fridge. He shoved a stale handful in his mouth, shuffling to the couch in silence.
He was being pathetic. Acting like some emotional teenager when he was an actual adult, with real responsibilities and obligations. Instead of becoming a hermit who lived on the sofa, he should be doing something productive, like last minute coding or filing.
What did Yoongi do after work? Was his attitude the same as Jimin's? Sulking around his home wearing gross sweatpants and stuffing his gullet with stale chips? Or did the man have his shit together and actually live a life outside of the office? Jimin couldn't help but wonder if Yoongi had other partners in his personal life, ones that stayed over at his penthouse and got the luxuries of waking up next to him every morning, and see that soft face and handsome figure still asleep next to them. Would Yoongi make them coffee and bring them into the shower with him?
There was a darkness that flooded Jimin's chest, so thick it was almost pliable, bringing him down to the darkest recesses of his heart. Jealousy in the truest, rawest form. Stuck staring at the black TV screen, his whole body seized up, fists clenching until his fingernails left angry red marks in his palm. He had no right to be jealous, and yet there he was, crippled by the thought of anyone else being with Yoongi. It wasn't fair.
Jimin had a good, raw cry that night. He cuddled up with Fluffy, who wiggled in his arms for a moment before relaxing. He had put on a movie for background noise, but it had been ignored as he sobbed into the fur of Taehyung's cat.
When Jimin stepped into the office, he could feel a certain type of tension bleeding into the air in thick gusts, blowing out warning signs in every single direction. Unsure, he closed the wooden door behind him and set his belongings on the chair as always, before coming around the desk to look over Yoongi's shoulder at whatever he'd been working on. The usual coding and filing, as always.
“Want some help?” he asked, when Yoongi let out a soft sigh and pushed away from the computer. The older man gave him a short look as he stood, and moved to the other side of the room where the files were. He grabbed a few and held them against his chest, all while looking blank and void of any emotion. Had something happened to him, or was Jimin just going insane?
“Finish the coding,” he said, tone hard and unforgiving.
Jimin winced at the sharp tone, and sunk down into the office chair silently. “Are you okay, Yoongi?”
The older man visibly tensed as he moved toward the office doors, gripping hard against the handles for a moment before he growled, “Just...stop. Okay? Get the work done.” And then he was gone, and Jimin was left with his jaw dropped and heart pounding.
The day was long and quiet, since the CEO hadn't returned to give Jimin anything more to work on. For most of the time Jimin just sat there, worriedly watching the carved wooden doors as thought a beast would crawl past them at any given moment. What in the world had happened to make Yoongi suddenly snap like that, and leave without saying anything more? Was it something Jimin had said? Whatever it was, he was almost too terrified to find out.
The sun set behind the cityscape and as nightfall came, Jimin closed down the computer and tidied up the desk before packing up his belongings. For awhile he wondered if the boss had gone home for some time to himself, and maybe get his attitude back in check. Jimin couldn't help but worry for the older man, going as far as staying behind awhile longer, watching as the clouds rolled into the dark sky and the rain began to fall from the heavens until he couldn't wait anymore.
Jimin shrugged his coat on and grabbed his suitcase, heading out the door and to the elevator. It wasn't until it dinged and opened that he ran into Yoongi, who looked even angrier than he had before. Jimin took a few steps back to let him through, and then against his better judgment, followed the man back into the office he had just left.
Quietly, Jimin asked, “Sir? Is something the matter?”
Yoongi eyed him for a moment, taking in the coat around Jimin's shoulders with a hard glare. “Where do you think you're going?”
Jimin toyed with the hem of his jacket sleeve. “Home, sir. It's almost midnight.”
“You're not going home. I need you to get work done. You've been slacking off enough as it is.” Yoongi rebooted his computer, and then grabbed a stack of files from the corner of his desk to flip through. Things were quiet for a few beats, before the man said, “Hurry up.”
Whatever was wrong with the man obviously wasn't about to be shared, and frankly Jimin was tired of being treated so unfairly. Yoongi hadn't even acknowledged the fact that Jimin stayed behind for hours after his shift was over just because he was worried for the man. To say that his efforts went unnoticed hurt, more than he liked to admit. “No, Yoongi. I'm going home. I already stayed behind.”
Yoongi flicked his gaze up, eyes hard and unreadable. “Fine. Get the fuck out then.”
“What is your problem?” Jimin bristled, stomping his foot like a child so that maybe his feelings could be portrayed.
“My problem is you, Jimin!” Yoongi growled, jerking out of his chair and for a moment Jimin wondered if Yoongi was going to leap over his desk and attack. “You good for nothing idiot!”
Jimin blinked, and then swallowed hard. Obviously he had done something drastic enough to piss Yoongi off, but the words still stung enough to have him fumbling on his own thoughts. He gaped at the man for a moment, and then decided there was nothing more to say. There was absolutely no way he would allow the other man to see him upset, or worse, cry. So with that, he spun on his heels, pushed out of the office and made a mad dash out of the building.
God must have really, honestly hated Jimin. When he slipped into his trashcan of a car, and shoved the keys into the ignition, he realized after a moment of hysteria that the engine was absolutely shot.
It was going to happen sooner or later, and Jimin was fully aware of this but it didn't make the situation any better. Why couldn't he have just been a proper adult and invested in a vehicle that actually worked instead of his stupid, old wagon that had been weakly puttering along for years now? He furiously wiped at the tears in his eyes and bumped his head against the steering wheel a few times in quiet frustration before shoving the creaky door open. Leaving his things in the back seat so they didn't get sopping wet, he locked up all the doors just in case anyone wanted to steal his belongings and stood rather numbly as the freezing rain began to soak his hair and shoulders. No umbrella, because he was too stupid to ever remember to bring one and a phone that hadn't been charged in two days so obviously there was no way for him to call a taxi. The roads were deserted anyway, which only served him right. It was all a punishment in his mind.
Which was well deserved. Jimin was so...stupid. How could he ever let himself fall in love with a man that would never reciprocate it? And why couldn't he have just gotten a stupid car so that he wasn't currently stuck in the ice cold storm? With a burst of anger, Jimin kicked at the front tire of his wagon until his toes began to ache, before turning on his heels to stalk off toward his apartment many miles away.
He was soaked by then, and the tears streaming down his cheeks mixed with the rain pelting him from all directions. It was almost as if he was starring in some stereotypical drama where the main lead was left for dead in a raging rainstorm. His hands were shaking with a mix of sobbing and the weather, but still he lifted his hand to wipe at the snot running out of his nose and then pushed his dripping wet hair out of his eyes so his vision wasn't so obscured.
His apartment was too far away to be walking in such a terrible condition, but what other choice did he have? Nobody to call, and the night was too late for any buses to be open and it would honestly be a fucking miracle if a taxi drove by and picked him up.
Just that simple thought had Jimin crying harder, a complete sobbing mess that was soaked and chilled to the bone. Walking along the quiet sidewalks of Seoul, with very few cars passing by because everyone was asleep by then. At home under warm blankets with the ones they loved tucked into their chests, and damn if Jimin wasn't envious of them all. Why couldn't he have a normal life, with friends who didn't leave him for Paris and a real love interest that didn't just fuck him for the simple act of having sex? What had Jimin done in his past life to have such a fucked up current one?
“And you couldn't even buy a new fucking car!” He bellowed out to the heavy clouds above, shaking both fists above his head. “You fucking idiot!”
Screaming out his problems wouldn't deal with them, rather it would only serve to make him look like a crazy person. He lowered his hands and kept going, sluggishly following the cracked slabs of concrete to his final destination miles away. Maybe this whole ordeal would make him learn a thing or two about life; nothing ever went the way it was supposed to, especially if he messed up everything.
Jimin had never hated himself as much as he had in that moment. How pathetic he felt, walking alone with nothing but a suit on in the rain. Pitiful, so pitiful he could hardly stand it. If there was such thing as rock bottom, he had just hit it and he landed hard.
Twenty minutes passed and Jimin could hardly feel his toes, and with that he decided to give up on life and slump against the curb in hopes that a taxi would pass and take pity on him. He hunkered down and pulled his knees to his chest, so that he could rest his forehead against them and hold in as much body heat as he could. He had cried out every last tear he could and by then all he could feel was numb, which could have been the freezing cold rain chilling his heart, too.
“I just want to go home,” he breathed to nobody, peeking up past his sopping hair to see if he could spot a taxi, although all he could find was a car or two passing every few minutes. There was an ice storm occurring, of course nobody would be driving in such terrible weather conditions. The rain was still pelting him hard, some of it already turning to slush before it hit the ground, but it didn't even matter anymore. Jimin was absolutely drenched, soaked completely and there was no way he was going to get warm unless by some miracle he grew wings and flew back to his apartment.
At this rate, he was going to die, probably. Sitting out in a rain storm that was beginning to freeze into ice at a rapid pace, with no hope of moving anymore. Maybe this was supposed to happen, and he'd just freeze to death. At that point, he was fine with it happening. He was already too empty inside to care anyway.
It was then that the hard screech of tires echoed through the quiet road and headlights flooded Jimin's vision enough to blind him for a moment. He squinted his eyes and lifted a shivering hand to block out the light in a chance that maybe he could see, which was hard with all the sleet and rain blurring his vision. A car door snapped open and a body fumbled out, and Jimin noticed the familiarly polished oxfords running at him before anything else.
The last person he wanted to see was Yoongi, despite the fact that he was literally freezing to death and wouldn't probably last the night if he didn't get warm and dry soon. As soon as two strong hands grabbed his arms, he was flailing to get out of them, going as far as kicking and punching blindly in a rapid attempt to get away. He couldn't deal with all of this torment in one night, and adding Yoongi into the mix was a deadly concoction.
Yoongi shrugged his suit jacket off and tugged it over Jimin's head and shoulders in an attempt to keep the rain away, and for just a moment Jimin caught a glimpse of the older man towering above him. His hair was already dripping wet and his clothes were not far behind, but his eyes were filled with so much concern, Jimin felt terribly guilty.
“Stop trying to push me away!” Yoongi yelled, and yanked Jimin up off the curb. “Get in the car! You're going to freeze to death!” Despite his shouting, the pouring rain was drowning out his words so that it sounded of nothing but a whisper. And yet, the pain of being so frozen got Jimin moving with Yoongi despite wanting to be as far away from the man as possible. His knees gave and wobbled as the older man guided him to the running vehicle a few feet away.
Inside the car, it was like a warm summer's day with the heater blasting against his skin. Jimin caught his reflection in the rear view mirror to see that his lips were blue and his usually tan skin was ghostly white. And while it was toasty warm inside, the clothes clinging to him made it near impossible to warm up whatsoever.
Yoongi dove into the driver's seat and put the car in reverse to swing around to the other side of the road, where he sped in the exact opposite of Jimin's apartment. And only having been there once, Jimin could still remember exactly where they were headed.
“I want...t-to go h-h-home!” Jimin yelled, because throwing a fit was his last option; he'd tried everything else, even went as far as to punch and kick Yoongi a few times just seconds before. “T-take me ho-home!”
Yoongi was shivering too, but not nearly as much although his skin was alive with goosebumps from the frozen rain that had danced against him. “No, Jimin. You can hardly move. I'm taking you to my place.”
Jimin hated to admit that Yoongi was right; he couldn't move because his joins all seemed to be frozen in place, not even his fingers could twitch without pain coursing through them. And yet, still, being so close to Yoongi only seemed to make matters worse because the man was the main cause of his turmoil and there was nobody to blame but himself. “I c-can ta-take care of m-m-myself ju-just fine,” he growled anyway. “W-why the f-fuck do you care?”
Yoongi tossed him a glance that showed a bit of annoyance laced with worry, something Jimin hadn't really seen before. “I found you huddled on a curb, literally freezing to death. How do you expect me not to do something about it?”
“W-hy are you d-down in th-this p-part of town a-anyway?” Jimin had to change the subject, maybe because he felt so angry or possibly because he couldn't stand the thought of being pitied by Yoongi, as if he was some dog. Curiosity always got the best of him, even when he was at the lowest part of low, shivering and lightheaded from the cold.
Yoongi turned at a stoplight and stomped on the gas so that the engines of his car roared to life and echoed through the vacant roads in hopes to get to his home sooner. His jaw tightened, fingers flexing against the wheel for a moment and Jimin was almost positive he wasn't going to get a straight answer, or anything at all. But then the elder man let out a long sigh and lifted one hand to his wet hair to push it up against his head and away from his eyes, his tough facade slipping rather quickly. “I was driving to your apartment. I...wanted to apologize.”
Jimin was almost sure it was a lie, but then Yoongi glanced over at him with eyes so gentle and true, even his own chest was being reluctantly filled with acceptance rather than hate. “A-apologize?”
Yoongi looked forward again, foot easing against the break to stop at another red light which switched to green not a moment later. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel for a second, before he regained his composure long enough to answer. “What happened between us earlier,” he breathed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as always, except this time it seemed like a nervous gesture rather than a mischievous one. “I was such a fucking asshole. And I'm sorry, Jimin.”
Jimin never thought those words would come from Yoongi's lips, not like this anyway. “O-oh.”
“I was driving to your place to apologize and I saw someone huddled by the curb. As soon as my headlights hit you, I knew it was you.” Another turn left and Yoongi was on the busy road where his loft was located; even from many blocks away Jimin could see the glass-like building sparking within the rain and night. For the first time that night, he had never been more thankful to be heading to Yoongi's home, so that he could get warm and dry. “Why were you out in this weather? Are you insane?”
Jimin actually had the nerve to laugh at that, just a tiny chuckle that sounded more like a sob than anything. “Car broke down. It's a piece of shit. I started walking about thirty minutes ago.”
“You've been out in this shit storm for half an hour? Park Jimin, why the hell didn't you call me? I could have driven you home or called you a cab.” Yoongi stopped at one last stoplight before he pulled into the parking garage and stored his vehicle away in the slot with his name painted on the wall. As he killed the engine and undid his seat belt, Jimin worked on moving his toes a little so he could at least get out of the car without falling over.
“My phone is dead,” he replied.
To which Yoongi grunted, “Of course.”
With Yoongi's help, the two made it into the building and up the elevator with only minor issues. Jimin had been given just enough time to warm his joints so that he wasn't so stiff, and as they stepped into the entry way of the elder man's loft, Jimin was so thankful to peel out of his dripping wet shoes and be led straight to the bathroom.
Yoongi started a hot bath and then moved to Jimin's side to help him out of the sopping clothes he was stuck in, which proved to be slightly difficult because wet clothing clung to wet skin like superglue. And although Jimin was standing in Yoongi's pristine bathroom fully naked and shivering, there was no ounce of embarrassment despite the former running around the place looking for towels and a spare pajamas.
“Get in the tub,” Yoongi ordered once he found some clean underwear, sweat pants and a tee that would fit Jimin, and then waited until Jimin was fully situated inside the deliciously warm water before he went to take care of his own wet clothes and hair.
Jimin studied the white tiled floor for awhile, counting each one until he lost track and then started again, just to pass the time. Slowly the muscles in his limbs relaxed enough so that he could lay back and close his eyes, enjoying the feeling of his bones heating up after so long of being outside in the storm. It was quiet, the only sound was a few drops of water from the faucet hitting the tub sporadically to create an off tune beat in Jimin's head.
Minutes later and Yoongi knocked on the bathroom door before pushing it open, peeking his head inside to check on Jimin. He looked up, blinking in confusion for a moment before looking back toward the tiles just so he didn't have to see his face.
“Are you doing okay?” Yoongi breathed, inviting himself in and closing the door using his hip. He had with him a steaming cup of green tea that he handed to Jimin, and then crouched by the tub to reach out his hand and push the hair from Jimin's eyes. “Are you warming up?”
Jimin could only nod, unable to get the tumbling words in his head out of his mouth so instead of sounding like some idiotic buffoon he made the best decision to stay silent. The tea made his stomach just as warm as the rest of his body, and a soft sigh of contentment escaped his lips before he could stop it.
Yoongi hunkered down on the floor and leaned up against the wall of the tub, faced away from Jimin to give him privacy while still being there to make sure Jimin didn't keel over, probably. And it was quiet like that, for minutes or hours neither of them paid much attention to the time, until the bath water was cold and Jimin's fingertips were wrinkled.
Jimin drained the tub and carefully stepped out of it only to be greeted with a warm, fluffy towel and a spare pair of slippers. Once his body was dry, he slipped on the underwear and grabbed onto the other man's arm for balance, afraid that if he let go, he would face plant into the polished floor. The two inched out of the bathroom and into the living room where Yoongi had put some blankets and pillows, obviously pointing out the fact that Jimin wasn't going to leave for home until the morning. Probably to make sure he didn't have hypothermia or something but it still felt rather comforting to know that Yoongi cared enough to even think about that. Jimin slipped underneath the blankets and then used the towel around his neck to dry his hair, gently because a headache was inching it's way against his skull.
Yoongi sat on the far side of the sofa by Jimin's feet and sighed, looking as though he wanted to say something but never made a move to. Jimin on the other hand had absolutely nothing to talk about, since the embarrassment of the whole situation was finally kicking in. How could he have been so stupid in the first place? The whole situation wouldn't have even happened if he would have gone to Yoongi instead of being so stubborn.
Jimin's eyes felt heavy, body exhausted to the point where there was no stopping the sudden slumber. Sleep washed over him like waves on the beach, pulling him deeper and deeper into unconsciousness until there was nothing left but gentle dreams of hot baths and unsweetened tea.
It could have been minutes or hours until Jimin woke up again, and by then his hair was dry and messy, and the blankets had been tangled around his hips and legs. His hands reached up to wipe the at the crusted sleep in the corners of his eyes, and then covered his mouth when a yawn threatened to break through. The place was still dark as it had been when he had crashed, the roar of rain drowning out the sounds of the city. Blinking wearily, he looked around the dimly lit living room, taking in all the events from before, and the dread that came with it. Yoongi was situated on the plain black chair off to the side, watching carefully and for a moment Jimin's heart began to race. Had the older man been so worried, he had skipped out on sleep just to keep an eye on him? Before he had the chance to stop it, a hot blush washed over his cheeks and chest, and he pulled the blankets over his body to hide.
It remained as silent as ever, with the sound of the storm and a ticking clock somewhere in the apartment as the only music. Jimin thought he ought to find some fresh clothes and get dressed, as he'd fallen asleep with nothing but boxer-briefs on, but he was rather comfortable and warm within the mound of blankets. Instead of making any move to get up, he only curled deeper into the sofa and let his head rest against the arm of it.
Jimin let his gaze wander for awhile, around the pristine, bland décor and unpersonalized attributes. He had never been in Yoongi's apartment long enough to take in the flavorless feel of it all, since the few times he'd been in the place always ended short and to the point. From his place on the sofa, he could see the ceiling fan in detail, carved wood painted black to match the dark washed furniture, and the smooth and rather small entertainment center across the room. A flat screen TV was there, along with a neatly placed stack of old 90's movies that Jimin hadn't watched since he was a young kid.
If he observed hard enough, it was easy to spot the very few personal things strewn about Yoongi's otherwise unadorned loft. A stack of papers thrown against the coffee table, a small plastic panda bear sat against the entertainment center and two picture frames taking up the top shelf of the bookcase. The photos were all black and white filtered, showing a young man and an older couple. All seeming to be candid shots, with each person smiling so brightly without knowing a camera had ever been pointed their way.
Jimin looked back at Yoongi and cleared his throat, waiting a moment until the elder looked over at him. “Who are the people in those photographs?” It was an intrusive question, but after all that they had been through together Jimin liked to think there was a layer of trust that had built itself over time.
Yoongi seemed to blink in confusion for a moment before he followed Jimin's gaze to the top of the bookshelf, where the two pictures sat indefinitely. Instead of answering, the man got up from the chair and ambled toward the black oak mini bar, placed off to the far right of the living room. Jimin hadn't even noticed it before that moment, and an eyebrow raised with piqued curiosity. He had never really taken Yoongi for a drinker, had never even seen the man drink more than a glass of wine except for the one night they had ventured to that club and gotten drunk together. It was almost unsettling, watching Yoongi open one of the dark, small cabinets to pull out a short glass and a bottle of bourbon.
Had Jimin said something wrong? Looking back at the photos on the top shelf, he studied them for awhile until the frames blurred and he had to blink a few times. From across the room, Yoongi poured himself a drink and brought the glass to his lips to take a long shot, and then back down for a refill.
“My family,” he said gently, and then brought the glass back to his lips, not yet taking a sip. Yoongi turned back to Jimin, although his gaze never quite left the glass holding copper alcohol inside of it.
Jimin wished it wasn't so quiet; the silence was starting to crawl under his skin and make his mind race with thoughts. He shifted against the couch again, so that he was sitting rather than laying, and studied the other man for a moment. The way his calloused fingers traced the rim of his cup almost nervously, and the slump of his shoulders.
Observing was something Jimin found himself doing much more than he ever had before. Watching the way the other man carried himself and the little things that nobody else ever caught onto. Like the freckle on the side of his neck, or the subtle ways Yoongi showed care. But at that moment, all Jimin could see was Yoongi's pain stricken face, so cold, dejected.
Jimin ran a hand through his hair to straighten it out, and then carefully said, “Do you see your family often?”
Yoongi glanced at him for a moment, and then pushed away from the mini bar to move toward the glass wall instead. The rain pelted against it with unforgiving vigor, tiny droplets dribbling down in frenzies. Jimin had to crane his neck in order to watch the older man, although Yoongi's back was facing toward him so that all he saw was a shadow of his face.
“No,” the man finally answered, and with that followed another sip from his glass. “I, uh, don't see them.”
Jimin shifted, so that his arms rested against the back of the sofa. “I would tell you to visit your family, but then I'd be a hypocrite. I haven't gone to see my mother in years.” Thinking back to his own parents, he thought it would be a good idea to give them a call so that they knew he wasn't dead in a ditch. After the night he had, he was suddenly craving his mother's gentle voice telling him that all was going to be alright, and that she loved him.
Yoongi dropped his head for a moment, and his fingers went back to tracing the rim of his cup. “My family is dead, Jimin.”
Jimin's heart seemed to stop, his lungs had seized to work for a moment and the silence from before had turned lethal. Was he still stuck in a dream, just imagining the horrible set of words tumbling from the former's lips? Damn, he wished it was just a nightmare that he could wake up from, all of it. Everything needed to be a nightmare, but it wasn't, it was real and the current moment was happening right before his eyes.
He felt like crying, because having a nice long cry always seemed to help in situations like these. Jimin wasn't even sure why his eyes and nose began to sting; he shouldn't have felt so heartbroken over Yoongi's situation. And yet there he sat, watching Yoongi's back with tears threatening to overflow and fall down his cheeks. “Yoongi,” he began, but didn't know what else to say. It seemed that telling the elder he was sorry was overly generic.
Yoongi shook his head a few times before moving away from the window to return to the black chair he sat in before. The drink in his hand was gone by then, so he leaned forward to set it on the coffee table where it looked so out of place. “My mother was a baker,” he began so slowly, timid, as though he would break into a million pieces if the wrong word was spoken. “Our home always smelled like freshly baked pies and cookies...I was such a chubby kid growing up.” There was a chuckle then, but it sounded so utterly sad and broken.
Jimin quietly scooted to the other side of the sofa, so that he was in arms reach of Yoongi, and pulled one of the blankets up toward his chin. Blinking back tears was near impossible, but he didn't dare say a single word in fear that Yoongi would stop talking.
“My brother and I used to sneak some of the baked goods our mother made and stash them under our mattresses. Mom knew our tricks, but never reprimanded us for taking the treats without permission. All she ever wanted was for her sons to be happy.” Yoongi looked longingly at the bar across the room for a moment, and then brought his hands together nervously. “I was such an asshole to her. I never listened and ignored her all the time. I was fifteen when I told my mother I hated her over the phone. I was just...mad because I wanted to go my friend's house after school and she told me no.”
Jimin rubbed at his eyes for a moment, and when he looked back at Yoongi, he could see the pool of tears forming in his eyes. There was nothing more he wanted to do than wipe them away, kiss it all better and pretend nothing bad ever happened. Instead, he clung to the blankets around him for dear life and watched with blurry vision as Yoongi tried to keep himself together.
Yoongi ran a hand over his face, and then raked his fingers through his hair angrily. “Her and my brother got into a car accident on their way to pick me up from school that day. Died on impact.” The tears came then, for both of them. Jimin was sure he didn't have a right to cry, but he was. Sobbing into the blankets as he watched Yoongi furiously wipe his own tears away. “Can you believe that?” Yoongi breathed. “The last words I ever told my mother was 'I hate you'.”
Jimin couldn't take it anymore. He slipped off the couch and moved toward Yoongi's side, uncaring of his lack of clothing, or the tears and snot falling down his face. He knelt down and brought the older man against his chest, and held him as though he could hold all the pieces together. It was a surprise when he felt unsure arms returning the gesture, shakily wrapping around him. Yoongi smoothed his nose up against Jimin's collarbone and let out a soft sob, clinging on for dear life.
It wasn't until Jimin's legs were sore from crouching and their arms were stiff from holding each other than he finally pulled back. “Come here,” he hummed quietly, and grabbed Yoongi's hands. Together they walked out of the living room and through the hall, to get to Yoongi's bedroom. They crawled under the covers of the older man's bed, facing each other, breath mingling into one. Jimin smoothed the blond hair out of Yoongi's eyes, and kissed him as carefully as he managed. It wasn't about lust, or sex at that moment. It was much deeper than that, much more painful; old memories had been resurfaced, and the struggle of Yoongi's heart had been revealed.
Yoongi kissed back almost desperately, eyes shut so tightly it looked painful. “Jimin,” the man murmured with a shiver. “I want to tell you everything.”
“I'm here,” Jimin agreed, dipping back in to kiss the man. “I'll listen.”
“My father was diagnosed with cancer a year after my mother and brother died.” Yoongi began so softly it was almost hard to hear. “He blamed me for the death of his favorite son and wife. He was right to. That man hated me for the rest of his life, never once forgot to remind me that I was a mistake.” Yoongi lifted his fingers so that they brushed against Jimin's chest for a moment in thought, before saying, “I wanted to produce music since I was young, and had a dream of becoming famous one day. My father forced me into business as soon as I was old enough to go to college, and signed the company to me in his will. That was his way of punishing me...taking a childhood dream like that away. He died the year I graduated college, and a week later I was shoved into that office on the top floor. God knows I never wanted this job.”
Things began to make more sense then, the reason Yoongi was working as a CEO at such a young age, wasting his life away doing something he secretly hated. Did anyone else know about that story? Jimin gnawed at his lip for a moment, and then pulled Yoongi closer so he could just...hold him. No amount of holding the elder would take away the pain lingering in his heart, but Jimin tried his best.
Yoongi was correct.
Life was unfair.
Yoongi drove Jimin home that next morning, without saying so much as a single word but the two shared knowing glances that held more meaning than words ever could. The sky was a beautiful blue and the sun shone brightly against the bustling city. Other than a few ice patches, the roads were mostly dry and clear, and the sidewalks were busy with people. Jimin watched out the window on the way back to his apartment, wearing the clothes he had on the day before which had been dried. His shoes were still damp, and it soaked into his socks.
Jimin leaned over the console and pressed a soft kiss onto Yoongi's cheek when they arrived at the apartment complex, before slipping out of the passenger seat and waving goodbye.
Once in his apartment, he peeled out of his clothes and stepped right into the shower to wash away all reminiscence of the night before. His ruddy cheeks and swollen eyes, the lingering scent of rainfall in his hair. Standing under the hot stream of water helped to clear his head, and make him forget for awhile. That's all he wanted, was to forget and pretend everything was fine even though it wasn't.
Nothing was okay anymore.
Jimin's hand slipped against the mahogany desk, the side of his wrist smashing against some of the folders stacked beside him. A few toppled to the floor and the papers fluttered everywhere, but all Jimin could focus on was Yoongi hovering over him, kissing him into oblivion. It was late, almost midnight but because of an issue with filing, both of them had stayed in the office for much longer than intended. At first Jimin had worked diligently, sitting next to his boss as the two flipped through dozens of folders and envelopes filled with precarious amounts of information. But then Yoongi had leaned over the side of his chair, teeth catching Jimin's ear gently and suddenly work was over, and play had begun.
Jimin was trying to catch his breath as Yoongi worked at the buttons of his shirt, since his fingers were too shaky to do it himself. After being kissed senseless, his body had flipped to auto-pilot and all he could really think about was Yoongi. The smell of his skin, the heat of his breath fanning against Jimin's neck, the touch of his fingers. He sucked in a sharp breath when Yoongi finally pulled the shirt off, the warm air around them serving to heat him to the bone and heighten his senses.
Yoongi took a step back to work at his own clothing, taking far less time ripping his blazer off and pulling the button up over his head and to the side. His skin was cool to the touch, just as his fingers were. Jimin drug his fingernails down the man's bare sides, taking a quiet second to appreciate the softly toned muscles and soft skin of his stomach, up his chest and to his shoulders. He pulled the elder close, placing a few gentle kisses against Yoongi's collarbones, tasting the skin there. Jimin drug himself up to Yoongi's lips, devouring all he could as if it was his last minute on earth.
There was an ounce of desperation between them, a different kind of feeling laced within each touch. Yoongi had a strong grip on Jimin's thighs and they kissed, for long minutes at a time. Only pulling away for a breath, and it was nothing more than that. Touching, kissing and so much silence.
Jimin knew exactly what he was feeling, which terrified him. Each caress brought him closer to the realization. Love was a very painful thing, and for a moment he wasn't sure he could breathe. Yoongi was kissing him so gently, but his heart was pounding inside his chest that couldn't be ignored. There was a harsh sting behind his eyes, pulling him to the present long enough to realize he was crying. Tears pooled in his eyes until his vision blurred and he pulled away from Yoongi and hid his face within the crook of the former's neck.
Yoongi's skin had warmed up some, and as his arms wrapped around Jimin he felt so safe, like nothing could ever reach him. But in fact, it was Yoongi that was hurting him, ripping him apart piece by piece until Jimin became nothing.
Yoongi held him so tightly, and Jimin cried against his shoulder. It seemed he cried a lot recently, because there was nothing else that would ever help him. He hated feeling so vulnerable and open, especially in front of the man who was the cause of his turmoil, and yet having Yoongi hold him like he was something so precious made him feel a little less broken.
Yoongi tickled his fingers up the nape of Jimin's neck and into his hair, each movement more gentle than the last. “Do you need to go home, Jimin?” he asked, voice hardly above a whisper.
Jimin wanted to be as far away from Yoongi as physically possible, and yet so close at the same time. He didn't want to go home, because his thoughts would haunt him all night. There was nothing more Jimin needed than to stay right there in the older man's arms. “No.” His voice cracked, a shiver running down his spine and throughout his body. “Just stay. Please.”
“I can't.” Yoongi made no attempt to let go, but his voice sounded so cold and detached. “We can't do this.”
Jimin tightened his hold on Yoongi's shoulders, face still hidden within his neck, the smell of him so beautifully invasive. “Yoongi,” he breathed. “Please.”
“Jimin,” Yoongi's fingers caught in Jimin's hair, holding so tightly while his other hand wrapped around his waist and brought him so much closer. Jimin could feel the man's muscles twitching, like he was holding back so much. “You weren't supposed to fall in love with me.”
Jimin sobbed into Yoongi's chest for an achingly long few minutes, tense under his touch. He felt so utterly stupid. But since Yoongi knew, it would mean the end of everything. Jimin would lose his job and everything he had worked so hard to achieve, but the thing that darkened his heart was losing Yoongi. Never getting to see his handsome face, or the rare but blinding smile. Wouldn't get lost in those burnt caramel eyes, or feel the man inside of him to bring out such a complete feeling.
“Just give me one last time,” Jimin begged against Yoongi's skin, a pathetic sound.
“Come home with me.” Yoongi loosened his grip, fingers tracing Jimin's jawline until they were looking at each other. His face was blank of any emotion, which only made Jimin more confused.
Jimin slid off the desk and onto his feet, grabbing his shirt off the floor as Yoongi gathered his things. He thought that maybe it was a bag idea, and leaving with Yoongi would hurt him even more, but his mind was hardly functioning. All he could think of was being with the man for as long as he could, before everything fell apart in front of his eyes.
He wished Taehyung was there to tell him what to do. Jimin was never the best at making good decisions by himself. And maybe that's what got him into the whole situation to begin with.
Jimin rode with Yoongi in his car, silent as he watched the buildings blur past in a wave of colorful lights. The city was still thriving despite the sun having set hours ago, with people walking the streets looking for late night fast food joints or shops. There wasn't any snow on the ground but the clouds were dark and heavy, threatening a flurry of rain and sleet. It was cold enough for an abundant amount of layers, something Jimin had forgotten that day. There was nothing but his haphazardly buttoned shirt and thin jacket. Despite the heater blasting, his fingers were cold and trembling.
The drive only lasted a few minutes but felt like hours. By the time Yoongi pulled up to the tall, glass and metal building Jimin was already regretting his decision to come with him. What was he doing, going to Yoongi's apartment only to have his heart broken?
He followed Yoongi through the revolving doors and toward the elevator, eyes down because he didn't think he could spare a glance at the older man without losing his mind. There was an itching in the pit of his stomach, begging him to do something, anything. Part of him wanted this, but the other half told him it was a silly idea and that he should have gone home before he hurt himself even more. But when the elevator dinged and the both of them stepped into the entryway of Yoongi's penthouse, the air changed into something more desperate.
Jimin felt himself being pulled to the bedroom, Yoongi's hand firm on his wrist, and he didn't put up a fight. Once behind closed doors, they were kissing just as they had earlier, except so much softer. Gentle touches, unheard whispers filling Yoongi's room with intensity. How long would Jimin's smell linger here, and remind Yoongi of what they had? Would the man wash his sheets and pillow cases the moment Jimin left the place, or would he cling to them until nothing was left?
The blankets were soft against his skin as Jimin laid back against them, but the only thing he could focus on was Yoongi, who was undoing the leather belt around his black slacks beside the bed. His hands worked quickly, and the next moment he was stepping out of the clothing and reaching into the dark wood bedside table. Jimin watched his every movement, soaking in all that he could before the night ended.
Yoongi pulled out a small bottle of lube and set it aside, before joining Jimin, sliding up against him to bring him in for a kiss. It was intimate in a way that had never happened before, soft and yearning, like hundreds of secrets answered within a single kiss. Jimin arched into him, pressing their bodies as close as possible.
It was an official goodbye. Although it wasn't said out loud, it was spoken through body language. Jimin tried hard not to focus on the fact that it would probably be the last time he ever got to touch Yoongi. He'd miss everything about the man.
Yoongi bathed him in affection, kissed every part of his body and worked him open with gentle fingers. If Jimin hadn't known any better, he'd call it love making. The older man pressed into him so gently, thrust slow and made Jimin feel everything in multicolor. He blinked past tears to watch Yoongi above him, count the tiny freckles on his neck and trace beads of sweat on his face. He'd never forget the way Yoongi looked in that moment.
“I'm sorry,” Jimin whispered, clinging so tightly to Yoongi it was almost impossible for him to move. The older man was pressed so deep inside, a free hand tugging at Jimin's cock that had faltered for a moment. “I'm sorry for falling in love with you.”
Hurt flashed across Yoongi's eyes for a single moment before he closed them, focusing on the angle of his hips as he rolled out and then pressed right back in, rougher that time. For awhile, the rising pleasure was all Jimin could think about, but the sadness was just under that layer, waiting to strike. Jimin's thoughts teetered like that, until Yoongi picked up the pace and fucked him thoroughly. He came between their stomachs with a sharp whine, arching off the bed, fingers caught between the soft blond locks of Yoongi's hair.
When Yoongi came, the silence engulfed the room until it was almost unbearable. Jimin watched him roll off the bed and leave the bedroom. Now that it was over, Jimin wanted to leave. The overwhelming smell of Yoongi was invading every inch of his mind until nothing was left. He needed to go.
After pulling on his clothes in rush, Jimin left the bedroom and didn't look back. Wherever Yoongi had gone to, they hadn't crossed paths. There were taxis parked along the curb two blocks down from the building that Jimin had crawled into, breathing out his address for the man in the driver's seat. It was half past two in the morning, but he'd never been more awake in his life.
Jimin had never been in love before, so nothing in his life ever prepared him for the empty, lost feeling that consumed him when he was alone. His sofa had become a permanent sanctuary, from the moment he awoke to the second he finally fell asleep. The cushion on the right side had dropped from his weight, and one of the springs had popped from tossing and turning in his sleep. His lungs must have shriveled into nothing because it was so hard to breathe. How long would that feeling last? No doubt it would kill him sooner or later. He supposed that dying from a broken heart might possibly be a real thing.
It had been three days since his last night with Yoongi, and Jimin really needed to get off his ass and go to the company building to pick up his personal belongings. He was afraid because Yoongi practically lived there, and who was to say he'd been officially fired yet. Although he was positive he wouldn't continue being the assistant to someone who ended up breaking his heart, it would hurt too much.
It was his fault, really. Jimin knew the rules from day one, and even then he still managed to fall for the cold-hearted CEO. He was so, so stupid for even agreeing to continue it all. He supposed the black depression looming over his head was punishment for being so rash.
Did Yoongi hear him leave that night? Had he been waiting in a different room until Jimin gathered his things and fled the penthouse? Jimin wondered if Yoongi felt the same as he did, so broken and scared because of it all. Yoongi probably felt nothing toward him at all, even after those countless nights being together, learning about one another.
Jimin shifted against the blankets covering him and the couch, turning on his back to stare at the ceiling. He would have to work through all of it by himself. He wished Taehyung was there to comfort him, and tell him that all would go back to normal. But he wasn't. Taehyung was thousands of miles away, living a dream life with Jeongguk, being the happiest he'd ever been while Jimin felt like dying alone in his quiet apartment.
Jimin had to pack up his belongings and start looking for a new job so he didn't end up somehow living on the streets; kicked out of his apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back wasn't the way he imagined the whole ordeal ending. With a hiccuping sigh, Jimin sluggishly rolled off the sofa and shuffled down the hall toward the bathroom to get a shower so he didn't smell like day old trash.
And because he wasn't sure what the outcome of the day would bring, he dressed in his usual business attire; black slacks, white button down and a tie. No jacket today, because he hadn't taken the time to wash or iron any of them. As he slipped his feet into a black pair of oxfords, he noticed a deep scuff on the side of the left one, probably from a night of being too reckless and the thought only served to make his chest ache even more than it was already.
Minju was typing furiously at her computer and Hoseok was nowhere to be seen. It wasn't hard to miss the cardboard box with Jimin's name printed in black Sharpie ink on the top of it, pressed up against the wall right beside Yoongi's office door. Embarrassment flooded his cheeks for a moment as he crossed the room to grab it, hauling it up and holding it protectively against his stomach with little effort. It wasn't very heavy, as Jimin didn't have many things stationed in Yoongi's office in the first place, just a few notebooks and his copy of Pride and Prejudice that he read when days got slow. A few items clattered around the inside as he stepped away from the beautifully carved door, hardly able to keep himself together with the thought that it was really over.
Minju lifted her head then, fingers pausing over the keyboard for a moment and then she stood and pulled the earpiece out and tossed it on the desk. “Hey,” she hummed, walking around the desk to get to Jimin's side. She grabbed the box and set it aside, and then pulled Jimin in for the longest hug of his life. For a moment he was stiff within her grasp, but after a moment passed and she made no move to let go, he wrapped his arms around her in a hold tighter than hers.
“Don't go just yet,” she said into his ear and then pulled away. “Mr. Min left for a business trip. The second man down is filling in for him for the time being. He wants to have a word with you.”
Jimin blinked at her for a moment, confused. “What?”
“I'm not sure what he wants to tell you. He's in Mr. Min's office, now.” Minju stepped back to the desk and patted Jimin's box of things. “I'll keep an eye on this for you.”
Jimin took in a few deep breathes to calm his racing nerves and then turned back to those familiar, carved wooden doors. Inside held the office in which so many memories had formed, and also where a heartbreak began. He didn't know if there was enough strength left in him to step past that threshold, but somehow his feet carried him to it and his fingers grabbed the handles and pushed them open.
Inside was the same, and yet all so different. Instead of the neatly stacked papers Yoongi usually had on his desk, there were folders strewn about carelessly, and the scent wasn't pine and earth as per usual. No, it smelt of bleach and cleaning supplies, newly scrubbed down. Behind the mahogany desk sat a broad-shouldered man with his head buried in a stack of papers, a pen placed delicately behind his ear. It was someone Jimin had never seen before, not in the many months he'd worked for the company.
Jimin shut the door behind him and cleared his throat loud enough that the man lifted his head with curiosity, and then gave a smile with glossy plump lips. “Hello,” he said, standing from the chair to greet Jimin with a simple shake of the hand. “I'm just filling in for Mr. Min while he's away. My name is Kim Seokjin, and you are?”
Jimin dropped his hand after three firm shakes and took a step back, taking in Seokjin's appearance for a moment in disbelief. “Park Jimin,” he murmured a moment later when he realized he'd been staring a little too long. “What happened to Yoon-uh...Mr. Min?” Jimin caught himself just before he uttered Yoongi's name, and blushed when a tiny speck of a smile landed on Seokjin's face.
Seokjin went back to the desk chair and sunk down into it, fingers clasped together as he smiled up at Jimin. “The CEO had some business to attend out of the country. I'll be keeping things in order for the duration of his absence.”
Jimin gave an unsure nod, and felt a pain stab him right in the heart. He knew things were over the moment he left Yoongi's home just a few days ago, but the thought of never having a single goodbye killed him inside. For a moment he was so angry at himself for leaving so abruptly, for not waiting for an explanation. “And how long will Mr. Min be gone?”
Seokjin had pulled on the knob of one of the drawers beside him and was searching through something, when he answered, “A month. Crazy, right? He thinks that just because we're friends, that means he can force me to do these types of things for him. I only agreed to fill in for him because he offered to pay for a nice dinner for the next six months.” The man was rambling then, but Jimin could hardly listen until the other stood once again and moved to hand Jimin a simple, white envelope. “He told me to give this to you.”
The front of the envelope had Jimin's name neatly written on it in Yoongi's precise scrawl, black ink as always. His heart sped up as he stared at it, and then nodded toward Seokjin as the other man showed him the door.
“Have a nice day, Mr. Park,” he said and gave a happy little wave as he closed the office doors again.
Minju was already on top of Jimin before he could gather himself, going as far as to question the envelope held tightly within his fingers not a second later. But Jimin only sighed and shook his head, stuffing it in the back pocket of his slacks so he could grab his box of belongings.
“I'll give you a call sometime,” he said to her when he stepped into the elevator, and Minju looked just about ready to cry as she gave him one last hug goodbye and muttered a soft you better in his ear.
Jimin sat on his bed with a hot cup of tea burning him between his legs, and stared at the white envelope a few feet away, laying slightly crumpled on a pillow. He had been staring it for the last few hours, after he had changed out of his work attire and into something more comfortable. Stomach growling for food, skin chilled from leaving the heater off for a few days, he made no move to get out of bed and carry on with life.
The envelope was right there, begging to be opened and yet he just couldn't get himself to reach for it and tear the paper open. Instead, he brought the cup of tea to his lips and took a few tentative sips just to give himself something to do. At that point, he couldn't even feel much, the numbness had kicked in. Everything was on auto-pilot.
The sun was setting already, and Fluffy had ventured past his door and jumped onto his bed to curl up at the foot of it. By impulse, Jimin reached out to pet her old, matted fur and by chance the movement made the envelope slip off the pillow and fall back behind his mattress.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, and slipped off his bed to place his tea on the night stand so he could crouch on his knees and look under it. There was some cat hair he hadn't noticed that bunched up, and a few old boxes stored many months ago pressed against the furthest wall. But just a few inches from his fingertips was the white envelope, just waiting to be opened. He grabbed it and brought it to his chest, deciding at that moment that the floor felt much more inviting than his own mattress. He laid back against the carpet and brought the envelope to his nose to inhale it. There was only but a touch of Yoongi's scent, pine and earth.
It was a letter, Jimin was positive. But what was written inside, he was completely unsure. Maybe Yoongi had told him of a secret address where he could go, and the two would live out their lives together like in old fairytales. Or could it be a letter of Jimin's dismissal from work? Whatever it was, Jimin knew if he didn't toughen up and open it now, it would stay on his nightstand for months before he gained enough courage to see what was inside.
Using his finger to rip at the glued piece, he wedged whatever was inside out slowly as if he'd faint with any sudden movements. Heart beating roughly against his chest, he placed the now ripped envelope on the floor and shut his eyes as tightly as he could, holding a simple piece of paper, folded neatly.
His phone rang in that same moment, a loud burst of music that could only mean Taehyung was ringing him. For a moment he thought that maybe it was better to ignore him and go on with what he was doing, but then as his phone continued to go off he just couldn't stop himself. He leaped up off the floor and scrambled to answer it, hands shaking as he slid his thumb over the answer button and placed the phone against his ear.
“I'm lonely and Kookie is at work.” Taehyung yelled that through the phone and then laughed at himself, which served to bring Jimin back to the present time. He hadn't even talked to his own best friend in over a week because he'd been so focused on his own issues.
He placed the paper on his bed and left the room so he wouldn't impulsively look at it, choosing his trusty sofa instead. “You're up early.”
Taehyung snorted, and Jimin could hear the sound of soft music playing in the background. “I had a class this morning but it got canceled because my professor has the flu. So here I am, dressed for success with nothing to do. What's up? Why have you been ignoring me the last couple days?”
Jimin picked at the skin around his fingernails as he searched for an answer that wouldn't sound like complete bullshit. “I've been super busy with work.”
“That's never stopped you from talking to me before, you know.” His best friend sounded a little offended, in a way that confused Jimin because he couldn't tell if Taehyung was goofing off or not. But then he said, “You've been weird lately. Anything going on that I don't know about?”
“It's like you don't want to talk to me anymore. I know you, Jimin. What's going on?” Taehyung had always been insistent, always pushing to get the truth out of people.
Jimin heaved a sigh and fell back against the cushion of his sofa, one of his hands reaching up to tug at his hair for a moment in distress. He just didn't have the energy to deal with even more problems, he had enough already stacked on his shoulders. “Fucking drop it, Taehyung. I'm just busy, okay? Why can't you just leave things be for once in your damn life?” he said it much rougher than he meant to, and instantly regretted it when he was greeted by silence on the other line.
A few quiet beats passed before Taehyung spoke again. “Fine. Whatever. I've got some stuff to do. Bye.” And not a second later, the phone disconnected and dimmed to his home screen.
Jimin was so stupid. He let out a pitiful moan and rolled on his side to smash his face into the back of the sofa so that maybe by luck he could smother himself. How many more things would he ruin before he had absolutely nothing?
Instead of calling Taehyung back to apologize, he slid off the couch and stomped back to his bedroom to find that letter. Sometimes it took rage to get things done. His fingers reached for it, and after wiping at a few stray, angry tears he finally unfolded the page and blinked down at it.
It was a paycheck. Jimin's last one, in fact. No letter declaring love or closure, just a simple piece of paper containing the rights to the last bit of money that was owed to Jimin by the company. The angry tears in his eyes suddenly increased tenfold and somehow he found himself a complete sobbing mess sitting on the corner of his bed, with the crumpled check held within his shaking fingers.
Jimin was lucky enough to find an okay paying job at a cafe down the street from the supermarket he frequented, the same one Yoongi had taken him too all those months ago. After coming to a sickening realization that money never grew on trees where it could be picked and harvested, he scoured the internet for places hiring near him, and well, at that point he'd take anything he could get. After an interview and a briefing on his once successful background in business, the small shop company called him three days later with rather uneventful news that he had been hired, and would be expected in the following Monday.
No matter how much he wanted to lay in bed and eat pizza until he passed out from gorging himself on greasy fast food, Jimin had a life that needed to be carried on despite the heartache keeping him in bed most of the day. There were bills to be paid and food to buy; the city was a very unforgiving place if you were unemployed. For the rest of the week Jimin laid in bed and counted the specks on the wall until he fell asleep, and woke up to eat whatever he had in the fridge, usually a sandwich or leftover takeout that he never remembered buying. It was the same repeating altercations, sleep, eat and do it all over again until Sunday night came around and he had to prepare for the first day of his new job.
He hated the sound if that, having been working at Yoongi's business for over a year; although uncomfortable half the time, Jimin had a reason to dress nicely and wear his best shoes. And yet in just a few short days, his life turned upside down and instead of pressed shirts he'd be wearing a sickeningly bright yellow apron and sneakers. The thought made him want to call the place and quit on the spot, but without a steady income he could be living on the streets in nothing but the clothes on his back. That was hardly enough to make him sleep at a decent hour and turn his alarm on for the morning.
Jimin dreamed of Yoongi sometimes. There were days when the exhaustion took over his mind and everything was blessed in silence, but other nights were plagued with the sound of Yoongi's laugh and the way his eyes glimmered when he smiled. Damn how Jimin missed that man; the way he smelled, the feel of their skin sliding together and every little detail in between served to drive Jimin absolutely crazy.
Wasn't it true that the days would only get easier? Or would Jimin always be in a depressed state of mind, and undeniably in love with a man that could never love him back? And it hurt, damn it hurt so much every time Jimin finally woke up from a fit of stress induced sleep only to realize that he had fucked up his entire life in the duration of a few months and the only person to blame was himself. There was no turning back, he had done this to himself knowing the repercussions.
Jimin didn't get much sleep that Sunday night, and the following morning he awoke with blood-shot eyes and dark purple bags underneath them. A shower, clean clothes and a granola bar for breakfast and he was on his way to the cafe, where the first day would begin in the new reality of his life. He left his phone at home, a fairly new habit he had created the day he left Yoongi, always leaving it plugged in and turned off for fear of anyone or anything trying to contact him. There hadn't even been a single phone call from Taehyung, at least that's what Jimin guessed what with his phone being powered down all the time. He just couldn't make the time for anyone anymore, and so he left it with no intentions of fretting about it until he got home.
The cafe was small but got a decent amount of business, enough for Jimin to get tips to buy him a few groceries for his empty fridge. For his first day at a brand new job he succeeded in not absolutely fucking up. All there was to do was take cash from little old ladies and hand them their ordered drinks after another practically nameless coworker made it. Easy enough, didn't take much thought process which was good because all Jimin could focus on was the need to get back home and sleep again. He relied on the act of slumber far too much for someone his age, but then again, he couldn't get himself to give a shit anyway.
Jimin worked from seven to four, and as soon as the clock dinged he ripped the ugly yellow apron off and fled out the door faster than the speed of light. Anything to get back to his comfort zone called a bed and hide under the blankets so the stress and heartbreak wouldn't eat him alive. The smell of coffee and chocolate clung to him and seeped into his clothes so he tossed everything he had on into the wash and dove into the shower just to get the scent away, as if it was poison. And maybe it was, the whole environment was toxic to him.
It continued like that just shy of two weeks. Sleep, work, eat. Repetition became the only stable thing in Jimin's life. He hadn't turned his phone on since the first day of his new job and wondered if Taehyung was having a meltdown already by the lack of communication. Did anyone think he was dead, or had they all forgotten he had ever existed in the first place? Whatever it was, the end of the second Thursday at work was spent contemplating whether or not to unplug his phone from the cord and finally check his messages. He ate dinner, an actual healthy dinner of rice and beef just because he had started to feel sick after so much fast food. Then a shower, followed by fresh pajamas before Jimin finally gave his vacant phone one hard glare.
He decided that maybe it wasn't the best idea, and left his phone off once again before trudging to his room to get some rest.
Jimin had never spent Christmas alone, and when the day came he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He woke up and stared at his ceiling for awhile until Fluffy pranced on him as her way of saying she needed food. After dragging himself out of bed, he shuffled out to the kitchen to pour some cat food into her bowl and watched for a moment as she chowed down.
Every year, Taehyung would spend Christmas Eve at Jimin's place, where they would bake cookies and get drunk off eggnog. In the morning, old movies would be playing in the background as they opened gifts from each other. Taehyung always got a package in the mail from his parents back home, filled with beautifully wrapped presents. It had been so long since Jimin had even received a card from his own family, but figured it was just as much his fault for never making an effort to contact them.
There was no tiny, fake tree set up in Jimin's living room, nor was there festive music playing on the stereo and cinnamon rolls baking in the oven. If it wasn't for the date on his phone screaming at him that it was even a holiday, Jimin would have woken up thinking it was nothing more than a regular Monday.
He looked around his home, and realized just how messy it had become. Trash overflowing, dishes growing mold on them and the floor filled with balls of Fluffy's matted fur. For awhile Jimin contemplated going back to bed to sleep the day away, but then decided that maybe it would do him some good to be productive on a holiday such as this.
Jimin threw his loose trash away and lugged the bags down to the garbage chute in the basement, and then vacuumed the carpets three times just to be sure everything was pristine and ready to be lived in again. He dug out the old, moldy food in his fridge and sprayed the whole thing down with bleach to get rid of any lingering messes because he had hardly done anything to be responsible the last few months. He then filled his sink full of sudsy water and tossed in all of the dirty dishes that hadn't been washed in weeks to let them soak and wiped down the counters and cupboards until everything shined.
Fluffy pranced around with piqued interest, and Jimin scoffed at the old cat because he realized it was the first time since she'd come to live with him that he had done anything like this. It was new for the both of them, he supposed.
When Jimin was done he set off for the shower to get the lingering scent of cleaning supplies out of his hair, since it seemed to cling to him like magnets to metal. Just to get a distraction from the fact that he was struggling day by day, and was also spending Christmas alone, he brought his phone into the bathroom with him and played his music so he could sing in the shower instead of drown in regret and sorrow.
Jimin belted out the lyrics to six songs before he stepped out of the shower and slipped into some fresh pajamas for once. It almost felt somewhat normal, Jimin thought as he crawled into his bed. What was normal for Jimin now? In all reality, Jimin hadn't been living a normal life for months. Could it be, that if he tried hard enough, his life would slip back into the old times where he was scrounging around Seoul for quick jobs with Taehyung by his side, but having the time of his life while doing it? That had been almost two years that he had done that, before he finally settled and landed his first real job as a secretary. Back then life was so simple, and Jimin felt so carefree and careless. He supposed his carelessness was what got him to where he was now, struggling at a silly job in a cafe with the love of his life probably living in luxury with a new plaything on his arm.
Jimin didn't get much sleep that chilly Christmas night, rather just binged on movies while he curled up with Fluffy on the sofa. There just wasn't enough willpower left within him anymore. He read online somewhere that those were clear signs of depression, and well, he wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. The last couple months had served to fuck him up pretty terribly.
For the third time that week, Jimin was haunted of dreams with Yoongi's beautiful smile and deep voice.
Jimin's phone was calling him from the moment he woke up until he fell asleep at night. He reached for it before his brain could tell him no and turned it on, shuffling quietly to the sofa as the screen flashed the company logo and chimed loudly within the silence of the living room. He hadn't spoken to Taehyung in weeks, hadn't heard anything from Minju or Hoseok. No calls made to his mother, or any old friends in years either and for a moment all he could reflect on was the fact that he was a terrible person. How could he push everyone out of his life like that?
Jimin sunk down against his sofa, and waiting for his phone to start blinking at him. It was rather heart wrenching when he expected hundreds of missed calls and messages, and only received three. Two from Hoseok, and a single text from Taehyung. Jimin's thumb hovered over the unread texts, too numb to cry, feeling as though he wasn't existing anymore.
merry christmas....miss you – Sent Monday, 12:09am
Jimin nodded to himself in silent agreement, that his heart yearned for his best friend, to see him and hear him. Maybe everything would have turned out differently if Taehyung never left for Paris, or if maybe for once Jimin went to someone about his issues instead of keeping everything bottled inside until he ended up in his current situation.
He looked back to his phone without replying to Taehyung, and moved on to the next set of messages sent from Hoseok.
From: Jung Hoseok
Merry Christmas! - Sent Monday, 2:10pm
Are you doing alright? Call me. - Sent Today, 4:48pm
Jimin let out a sigh he wasn't aware he'd been holding, and wondered if he should reply. He hadn't seen Hoseok the day he left work, and wondered if they were close enough for Jimin to explain that he wasn't going to be working there anymore. Before his nerves could tell him no, he clicked on contact and pressed the green phone icon, and stared at the screen in disbelief until someone answered the call. Panicked, Jimin pressed the phone against his ear and breathed out an uncertain hello.
“Hey, Jimin,” Hoseok hummed with a slight chuckle. “Where have you been? Haven't seen you in awhile. Minju told me you quit.”
That was abrupt, and slightly untrue. He hadn't quit, rather Jimin was fired for falling in love with the CEO of the company but that wasn't something he was going to tell Hoseok. Instead he said, “Yeah, um. It just wasn't my thing.” When had Jimin become such a liar, and got so good at it, too?
“Oh, I see. It's lonely without you around.” There was a pregnant pause, that turned awkward for a moment and Jimin wondered why he ever called Hoseok to begin with. But then the other man coughed and said, “Hey, I was actually going to ask you something! Glad you called. The company is throwing a New Years party and I have to bring a plus one. Want to come with me?”
Jimin wanted nothing to do with that damn business ever again; seeing the people he used to work with, watching all those people with successful jobs looking down upon him like he was nothing. The normalcy of it would hurt more than it would heal. “I...don't know. I'm kinda busy with the new job.”
“The party is this Friday. I'll give you some time to think about it, okay?” Hoseok sounded rather disappointed but Jimin couldn't get himself to care. Hoseok had tons of friends, so why did he have to pick Jimin?
A bucket of sudsy water and an orange, synthetic sponge was shoved into Jimin's arms that Thursday night five minutes before his shift at the cafe was supposed to be over. The manager, an old and very bitter woman by the name of Hara muttered under her breath how she thought Jimin was nothing but a slacker, and that he spaced off during his shifts more than not. Maybe it was true; Jimin hated his job and always daydreamed of being back at the company, right next to Yoongi like always. Filing and coding had never sounded so good.
“You don't get to leave until all the tables are sparking, boy,” Hara grunted, her disheveled hair falling against her face as she turned back toward the kitchen.
Jimin hesitated for a moment, and wondered if it would be worth it to throw the bucket of water on that old bitch and claim that he quit. Before he could do something stupid, he bit the inside of his cheek and stalked off toward the rows of dirty, sticky cafe tables.
The company party Hoseok had told him about still weighed heavy on Jimin's mind, and invaded his thoughts until it was all he could think about. It had been a few days since the offer had been brought up, and although the reluctance was still prominent, he couldn't help but feel awful for denying Hoseok's offer. He hadn't made a single effort to visit Hoseok since before the last day of his old job, and that thought alone made his heart sink. After managing to push everyone out of his life, including his best friend, it was hard to made a decision so tempting. A Friday night called for sleeping and eating delivery pizza, not attending a gathering of familiar faces and pretending everything was secure with his mental health.
Jimin moved on to the next table, and as he dunked the sponge back into the water, it became murky with old coffee spills and pastry crumbs. By the fourth table, the water was a dark gray and in serious need of being refilled but Jimin couldn't muster any more willpower to trudge back to the kitchen, pour the bucket out and wait for the faucet to fill it back up again.
Maybe going to the office party would give him closure. It was an idiotic thought but Jimin couldn't help but make as many excuses as he could to join Hoseok. There was a need so strong it almost felt like his brain was going to implode.
Would Hoseok still be looking for a date by then? It was Thursday night, and the party would be hardly twenty-four hours away. Jimin doubted that Hoseok would have waited that long for a reply from an ex-coworker.
Jimin finished wiping down all the tables half an hour later, and grabbed his things in a rush to leave the cafe. The place made his skin crawl, and just bursting through the doors and out into the cold night had him feeling better than before. During the quick walk to his car, he pulled the phone from his pocket and powered it on, staring at the screen as if his life depended on it. No missed calls or messages, but that didn't stop him from pulling up Hoseok's number and taking a ridiculous amount of time deciding whether or not to call.
In the end, Jimin did call once he was safely tucked into his old wagon with the engine running and the heater on full blast, although it didn't work very well. Despite not even knowing his official answer, his hands shook with nervousness. There wasn't even a reason for him to feel so damn scared and yet there he was, feeling like he was going to throw up at any second just because of a stupid phone call.
Hoseok answered on the fifth ring with a rather cheery, “Hello!”
Jimin swallowed hard, and stuck his free hand on the wheel just to give himself something to hold on to. “Hi. Sorry I called late.”
Hoseok's chuckle served to lessen the tightness in Jimin's stomach. “I'm glad you did! I was worried I wouldn't hear from you.”
Was that a sign that Hoseok was still wanting him to go to that stupid business party? Jimin let out a shaky sigh. “I..um. I was thinking of your offer to attend the company party with you.”
“And?” Hoseok seemed eager, voice raised an octave as though he was excited for something. “Will you come with me?”
Jimin wanted to say no, that he didn't ever want to see the faces that belonged to Yoongi's company. He wanted to stay at home and watch a sickening amount of movies and eat until he couldn't stand it. His answer was a flat no; he'd decline, tell Hoseok that they could hang out another time and end the call on a rather sour note. Jimin opened his mouth with a shake of his head, and blurted, “Yes. I'll come with you.”
“Great! I'm glad. I'll pick you up at five.”
Jimin's palms were sweaty and his stomach felt like it was twisted into knots, but he looked the best he had in weeks. After a long shower, some gel to style his hair and one of his nicer black suits tugged onto his body, he thought that this is what he was supposed to be doing every day. Wearing nice clothes and going to a business, where he could work in an office and type away at a computer for hours a day. Not wearing a yellow apron and getting shoved around by an old, angry woman. Looking in the mirror brought him back to when his life had a form of stability, and his job brought him even the slightest ounce of happiness.
As promised, Hoseok arrived at exactly five o'clock wearing a gray suit and blue tie, looking dashing and excited for no reason at all. They hugged, but it was a short and almost awkward embrace, if it wasn't for Hoseok diving right into every detail that Jimin had missed within the weeks of being gone from the business. Like the fact that Minju got promoted to head receptionist, and Hoseok got a raise.
Jimin was so thankful for Hoseok's habit of never shutting up, because the older man spoke well through the drive to the venue so there was no stagnant pauses. The atmosphere didn't have a chance to turn sour because Hoseok kept bring up new topics and asked so many questions, Jimin could hardly keep up.
The business party was held at a rather prestigious club north of Jimin's apartment, a place that he could have never afforded to go even if he wanted to. According to Hoseok, the place had been rented out for the night and the drinks were free until midnight, and Jimin wasn't sure if he was relieved or nervous for that fact. At least he'd be able to hide away at the bar if things got too rough and maybe even drink his sorrows away.
Hoseok parked on the fourth level of the parking garage and grabbed Jimin's hand to yank him excitedly to the elevator and down to the first floor of the club. The music wasn't awfully loud, and everyone was dressed in expensive cocktail dresses and pressed suits, so for once Jimin didn't feel out of place. Martinis and small finger foods were being offered on silver platters by men in black aprons, fake smiles adorning their lips. Jimin wondered how much the whole company spent on something like that, but decided that it wasn't his business anyway.
Minju was seated at a booth by herself, and instantly perked up when she caught sight of Hoseok and Jimin. Before he could even think, Jimin found himself in the arms of the smaller girl, who was also gently punching him in the side.
“How come you didn't visit me?” She growled, and then melted into a smile as she pulled away and looked at Jimin's face. “I miss you.”
Jimin got a good look at her and couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Minju was wearing a gray dress that seemed to match Hoseok's rather well, as though they had planned to coordinate their attire for the evening. Upon further inspection, they seemed to be lingering rather close, even going so far as holding hands and it didn't take much of a genius to realize that Hoseok and Minju were becoming a thing.
Jimin seated himself on one side of the booth while Hoseok and Minju sat adjacent to him, and with a raised eyebrow he asked, “How long?”
Hoseok turned bright red and Minju choked on her spit at the abrasive question, before going tandem in saying, “A week.”
“I knew it,” Jimin hummed, and then flicked his gaze toward Hoseok. “So why did you invite me as your date, since you already have one?”
Hoseok didn't try to hide the smile, his shoulders shrugging up to his ears and then back down again. “We missed you.”
The night went along just like that. All three of them seated, sipping on fruity drinks at the silly booth like a trio of loners for the majority of the night. Once or twice Hoseok left to go find some food, only to come back angry with complains that the place was far too expensive and he wasn't about to spend his entire paycheck on a plate of fries.
It was the first time since the last night with Yoongi that Jimin felt...okay. Not amazing, or perfectly healed but things were alright and for once Jimin didn't feel like dying. He supposed it was a step forward after all he'd been through, and the sadness in his heart. Maybe things would start getting better from there, slowly, one step at a time until one day everything would fall right into place. Jimin even found himself laughing at Hoseok's stupid jokes and making a few silly comments of his own.
It felt normal, like nothing had ever changed.
It was a minute to midnight when the countdown to the new year began, and Hoseok and Minju pulled Jimin out of the booth and into the crowd of business partners and coworkers all gathered at the dance floor with drinks in their hands. Minju was pressed against Hoseok's chest, both of them looking about ready to devour each other while Jimin was left a few feet away with a half empty martini glass in his fingers.
Suddenly the incredibly numbing loneliness filled Jimin's stomach at the sight of everyone around him going in for the first kiss of the new year while he stood rather awkwardly by himself. What would it have been like if Yoongi was by his side? Would they have kissed when the clock struck midnight, or maybe dipped into the restroom to have a private moment together where nobody else saw? Jimin's heart broke at the thought, and the confidence he had gained from the night dwindled to nothing.
Five. Four. Three. Two...One.
The new year was welcomed with an abundance of couples kissing all around him, and Jimin couldn't stand it anymore. He knocked back the last of his drink so that it burned the back of his throat and pushed out of the crowd of people in a rush to get the hell out of there. Instead of stepping outside into the night, Jimin elbowed his way through the club to the elevators that brought him to the parking garage. And maybe he could slip into Hoseok's vehicle and sit by himself until the older man found him and took him home, that way he wasn't out in the freezing cold all by himself. He pushed the button six times before the lift dinged and the doors slid open, and with a shaking sigh he stepped inside and pushed floor four.
Hoseok would probably get worried and be angry with him, but Jimin couldn't get himself to care anymore. It was a terrible idea to agree to attend the company party, no matter how much he had missed Minju and Hoseok. And besides, if they really missed him so much why hadn't they come to see him during the weeks that he was gone?
Jimin exited the elevator and looked around for Hoseok's car, which he was almost sure he remembered being red but now that he was standing there around seven different vehicles all the same shade of red he was regretting his decision to hide away in the older man's car. After feeling like a total creep for peeking inside the windows of three similar looking cars, Jimin decided it would be better to settle down and return back to the business party like a civil adult.
Jimin moved toward the farthest concrete wall of the parking garage and leaned his elbows against the ledge, so he could look out into the city and traffic below. The chilled January wind hit him like a ton of bricks, but it served to make everything feel a little calmer, and much less overwhelming. There were distant honking of horns, engines filling up the silence until all he could hear was low rumbling and wind. Jimin closed his eyes and tuned into the sound, hoping that maybe it could make his chest feel slightly less hollow.
It was time for Jimin to pick up the pieces of his life, glue them back together and move on. No amount of wallowing in self-pity would ever serve to make things better, or let his heart heal. More like each moment spent wishing things were different created a deeper hole in his heart. Jimin was growing tired of hating every second of what he'd become, and missed the days when he got work done and came home with aching feet and a happy heart. It was easier just a few months ago, before Taehyung left, before Yoongi.
Jimin leaned his head against the concrete wall and took a few deep breaths in, held them for awhile before blowing out again. Maybe he would finally call Taehyung when he got home and apologize, and tell his best friend what he deserved to know. Somehow the thought made him feel a little better, made his heart beat just a tad bit faster.
After a few more minutes of silence, Jimin finally pushed away from the wall and ambled back toward the elevator so he could find Hoseok and Minju and apologize for his abrupt absence. He figured they wouldn't be too upset, since both of them had been sharing a sweet kiss when Jimin bailed. Jimin fidgeted with his fingers as he waited for the doors of the lift to open and take him back down to the first level of the club, going through the things he could say to Taehyung once he got home.
The elevator dinged and the sound echoed through the parking garage, and Jimin looked up to watch the doors part. He hadn't expected anyone to walk out of it the moment he stepped in, and if it wasn't for his skill in dodging people he would have crashed right into a body. Instead, he hopped back and ducked his head in a silence apology so that he could get on without any trouble. But instead of the person moving out of the way, they just...stood there without any intent to move.
A moment passed and Jimin nervously flicked his eyes up, confused for a moment before things all came crashing down into a million fragments. Those black, polished shoes and perfectly tailored suit, followed by guarded eyes and shocking blond hair. No, it just couldn't be. Yoongi was out of the country for business, wasn't he? And yet there he was, seeming to be as frozen and shocked as Jimin was, standing in the threshold of the old parking garage elevator.
Every ounce of strength Jimin had gained dripped away into a puddle of nothing on the floor at the sight of the man, as though the last three weeks never happened and he was right back at the beginning. If only he could get himself to move and just leave, that way he didn't have to look at the man anymore, didn't have to breathe in that sickeningly familiar scent of pine and earth. But Jimin's feet were locked into place, his shoulder just inches from Yoongi's and despite their closeness, it felt as though their bodies were miles apart.
“What are you doing here?” Yoongi whispered through clenched teeth, but their eyes wouldn't meet. Jimin had his gaze locked to the floor while the older man looked straight ahead.
Jimin didn't know if he could find his voice, so unsure that his lips could even move enough to form anything coherent. After many tries to get something past his teeth, he gave up and decided that leaving the question unanswered was about as good as saying something stupid.
Yoongi took in an unsteady breath in, which sounded so undeniably painful Jimin couldn't help but peek up at him. The man's face was pale and cold as stone, as though he had seen ghosts. Jimin wondered if he looked the same.
The elevator doors closed just centimeters behind Yoongi, almost catching against the man's suit jacket and it dinged as it dropped down a few floors. Jimin made an impulsive decision to jam his thumb into the button so that it would return, and yet neither of them made a single move to walk away. The silence was far too loud, unbearable to the point that Jimin wanted to yell until his lungs gave out. But he didn't, he couldn't even speak a single word.
The elevator returned with two men dressed in blue suits, one looking very drunk and the other struggling to hold him up. “Excuse me,” he grunted, pulling his friend through the elevator and out into the garage to find his car, making both Yoongi and Jimin scuffle out of the way.
It seemed to set things in motion long enough so that Jimin hurried into the open elevator and slammed the ball of his palm down against the button to the first floor, anything to get as far away from Yoongi as possible. Yoongi turned on his heels, eyes wide when the metal doors began to slide closed.
“Wait!” the man yelled, shoving his body through the narrow opening until he tumbled inside. The doors closed, and the lift began it's slow decent back down to the ground floor. Yoongi heaved out a heavy sigh, arm reaching out to grab Jimin's wrist and tug him closer. “Wait.”
Jimin's heart was racing in his chest, pounding against his bones until his ears were filled with the sound of his heartbeat. There wasn't a moment to think, to get his jumbled thoughts in order before he surged forward and clung to Yoongi with every ounce of strength he had left. Just to hold him, feel him was the only thing Jimin could think to do. Everything else was a mess, but their embrace was clear and steady.
Yoongi slipped a hand between their bodies, reaching up so that his fingers brushed against Jimin's jaw, coaxing their faces closer together. And when they kissed, Jimin swore everything felt so normal, so absolutely beautiful like nothing had ever changed.
Jimin was positive that once they stopped kissing and everything was said and done, Yoongi would leave again and never come back. The thought put a weight against his shoulders, and made his heart drop right down to his feet. Yet even though he knew the best idea was to pull away, he couldn't stop kissing the older man, couldn't make his arms loosen around Yoongi's shoulders even for a moment.
He didn't realize that tears were streaming down his cheeks until Yoongi pulled back and wiped them away with gentle fingers, before dipping in to place the softest kisses against Jimin's eyes. “Don't cry,” Yoongi whispered, dipping down low again so that their lips were pressed together.
The elevator dinged and the metal doors slid open, but neither of them made a move to step out or go back up. No matter if people saw them, or needed to get through, Jimin couldn't care less. All that mattered was the man in his arms, kissing him into oblivion, making him forget the hurt and pain. The things he would give to always have the feeling he got when kissing Yoongi.
Yoongi's arms dropped down to Jimin's waist, both wrapping around him almost protectively as he said, “I'm so sorry.”
Jimin didn't want to hear those words, because sorry meant goodbye and nothing could ever prepare him for that. Even if the moment was their last, Jimin couldn't stand to think that Yoongi would slip from his fingers a second time. “Don't,” Jimin choked out, pressing his forehead against the older man's shoulder to hide his face. “Please.”
“I'm sorry,” Yoongi repeated, louder that time because the club was bustling with drunken people and music, and the man wanted to be heard. “I'm sorry that I pushed you away. I'm sorry that I left.” His arms tightened, and Jimin could feel a fresh wave of tears pooling in his eyes. He moved to hide his face within the crook of Yoongi's neck, breathing in deeply as though the scent of the man would calm his nerves. Yoongi brought a hand up to his hair, fingers carding through so very gently. “I'm sorry I never told you I loved you.”
Jimin froze up against him for a moment, the words a jumbled mess in his brain before he pulled back and looked at the man in front of him. “What?”
“I love you,” Yoongi said without missing a beat.
“You don't mean that,” Jimin urged, because it just had to be a lie. After all those months of cold, emotionless eyes and the mantra that played in Jimin's head like a broken record don't fall in love with me he just couldn't believe it.
Yoongi reached for the button on the elevator so that the doors would close and block out the sound of the club, engulfing them in the silence of the lift. “I love you, Jimin. I've loved you for so long.”
Jimin was stupid, naïve and never had the best judgment but he couldn't stop himself from kissing Yoongi again, and just hoping that what the older man was saying was the truth.
Minutes or hours passed, neither of them counted the time that they stayed in the elevator with their arms intertwined and their lips pressed together, soft whispers and sweet words spoken between them. Yoongi swore to explain himself if Jimin promised to listen, and so an agreement was made that things would work themselves out. No matter the outcome, whether it turned out good or bad, Jimin didn't care as long as he got to hold Yoongi for just awhile longer, taste those plush lips and hold the hands he missed so much.
“Come with me,” Yoongi breathed into his ear. “I'll take you home.”
Jimin's eyes were still closed, blindly searching for the mans lips until he came up empty. “I came with a friend,” he retorted, teeth grazing against the skin of Yoongi's neck for a moment. “I have to tell them I'm leaving.”
“Call them later.”
Slipping into the passenger side of Yoongi's sleek, black car put Jimin at ease, the soft rumble of the engine and the warmth seeping from the vents on either side of the doors was a comfort. Yoongi pulled out onto the road with one hand on the steering wheel and the other held tightly within Jimin's, their fingers tangled together like they had never been apart. For awhile Jimin just stared at the elder, studied the sharp features of the man's face that he had grown to love so much. It almost seemed like Yoongi had lost a few pounds from the last night they had been together, if his sunken in cheeks said anything. For a moment Jimin wondered if Yoongi had been just as heartbroken as him, to the point where he couldn't sleep or eat. For some reason, the thought made his stomach flutter.
There was a lot that needed explaining, and even more issues that had to be cleared up before the night ended. Bathing in the quiet together was something Jimin didn't want to end, but he knew within the back of his brain that the two had to talk. It created an unsettling feeling within the pit of his stomach, as though the talk would signify a reason to be apart again, and with that came another heartbreak. Jimin hoped that wasn't the case.
Yoongi seemed to sense to tension, so he said, “There are a few things I'd like to tell you, Jimin.”
Jimin nodded eagerly, and then blushed when Yoongi chuckled at him. “Okay,” he decided on whispering, so that he didn't embarrass himself further.
Yoongi eased to a stop at a red light, head lolling to the side so that their eyes met for a long few moments. Jimin couldn't stop himself from leaning in to steal a kiss, one that made his heart race just because the feel of the man's lips against his would never seize to amaze him. Eyes slipped closed, his thoughts were filled with nothing but Yoongi.
When Yoongi looked back toward the road and pressed his foot on the gas when the light turned green, he began, “When my mother and brother died, I promised myself I would never love again.” His brows furrowed, a deep set frown taking place against those beautiful lips. “I felt like I didn't deserve love, after what happened to them. My father used to tell me I was unlovable after what I did...he always told me I killed them, that it was my fault it happened.” The man paused, fingers tightening around Jimin's for a moment. “And so I decided I would continue to stay unlovable, and refused to love in the process.”
It made sense, so much that Jimin could feel his entire body shaking with the new found explanation. It was unbelievably sad, how broken Yoongi looked in that moment, the same sad eyes he carried the night he confessed about his dead parents to Jimin.
“The day I met you, I knew you were going to ruin every wall I had built up,” the man continued. “I wasn't going to hire you, but Seokjin said you might be good for me. And so I made you the receptionist so I wouldn't have to see your face everyday. And then I became greedy, and promoted you as my personal assistant just so I had an excuse to be with you as much as I wanted.” Yoongi turned onto the main road that lead to Jimin's apartment, but drove slow as though he didn't want to car ride to end. “And then you just had to be clumsy and run right into me, and I couldn't help but hold you. And when we kissed, I knew I was fucked.”
Jimin looked out the window for a moment, watching the buildings go by and then his apartment complex come into view. “So that's why you told me not to fall in love with you?” he asked. “Because you felt unlovable?”
Yoongi hummed in conformation, and eased his vehicle into the lot of the complex. “I thought that if I made it clear that we weren't going to fall in love, things would work out. But then I started falling for the little things about you...your eyes, the way you fumble on your words when you're nervous or the sound of your laughter. And I was scared. So I pushed you away.”
Jimin unbuckled his seat belt, but made no move to get out of the older man's car. “Is that why you left for a business trip out of the country?”
Yoongi paused for a moment, and then belted out in a laughter so strong Jimin could feel the corners of his lips quirking up at the noise. So pure, something he missed so much. “I never left,” Yoongi continued to chuckle, although it wasn't as loud as before. “I was so depressed that I stayed in my bedroom for two weeks and begged Seokjin to watch the company for me.”
That explained why Yoongi had been out to the company party. “So why did you decide to join the event tonight?”
“I had to make an appearance. Seokjin thought I was dead.” Yoongi looked down at his fingers entwined with Jimin's and sighed. “I had no idea you were there. And when I saw you...I knew I couldn't let you go again.” Jimin couldn't stop the smile spreading against his lips, a hot blush rushing up his neck and into his cheeks. Yoongi lifted his hand so that his fingers danced over Jimin's skin, past his eyebrows down to his lips and then leaned in to kiss. “I'm madly in love with you, Park Jimin.”
Jimin was afraid of being left again, but something in his heart told him to breathe, “I love you, too.” And when the other man smiled at him as though he heard the best news of his life, Jimin decided that maybe things would turn out alright in the end. “Do you...want to come inside?”
“I'd love nothing more.”
Jimin filled the silver tea kettle with water and placed it on the stove to heat up, almost embarrassed at the state of his apartment. There were dishes in the sink and some rogue cat food on the kitchen floor that had been missed when he swept the day before. But Yoongi didn't seem to mind, in fact he made himself comfortable on the sofa with Fluffy in his lap, licking at his knee while he pet between her ears. Jimin watched silently for a moment, it felt so unreal to have the man back in his life so quickly, so casually.
He turned back to the kitchen to grab two mugs, dropping a tea bag in each and then adding some sugar and cream to both. It didn't take long for the kettle to whistle, and as it did he took it off the heat and poured the hot water into the cups, taking them in the living room a moment later. Yoongi grabbed one with a soft smile, still keeping one of his hands occupied with the cat laying against him.
Jimin curled up against the sofa next to him, deciding that he would take advantage of every moment he had with the man. Even if he would be gone in the morning, Jimin wasn't about to let Yoongi go just yet.
“I met Seokjin,” Jimin said. “He seemed very nice.”
Yoongi smirked for a moment, toying with the rim of his cup before taking a sip. “He said you were cute.”
Jimin snorted, and covered his mouth to hide the stupid smile on his face a second later. “Oh.” He shifted, grabbing the folded blanket tossed over the back of the sofa and bringing around his legs, and then tossing the other corner against Yoongi. Fluffy startled and meowed in protest, getting up to stretch her legs before leaping off and strutting toward Jimin's bedroom.
Yoongi moved to bring Jimin closer to him, almost reluctantly. His arm went around Jimin's shoulders, fingers sliding down his arm until their hands were clasped. “Where are you working now?”
Jimin moaned at the thought of his job, knocking his head back against Yoongi's arm so that he could give him a pathetic glare. “A cafe. My boss is an old, crazy hag.”
Yoongi bit his lip to hid the smile there, and leaned forward to nuzzle against Jimin's hair. “I want you back in the office,” he instructed. “Monday.”
“Really?” Jimin gasped, not even caring that he spilled some of his tea on the floor in his gust of excitement.
“Of course,” Yoongi stated coolly. “You're the only one who knows how to finish organizing a stack of files in under fifteen minutes.” Jimin's jaw dropped, and then he laughed harder than he had in so long it surprised him. Yoongi smiled widely, and then dipping in to kiss Jimin's nose in the softest gesture he could muster. “And because I miss you.”
“So...what now?” Jimin asked after a moment, with their lips just centimeters apart, breath mixing together. Jimin's eyes flicked up to Yoongi's,
Yoongi looked down into his cup for a moment in thought, a long sigh escaping his lips. “I don't know.”
“Neither do I.”
“All I know is that I want you,” he hummed.
Jimin peeked up at him past his lashes, heart racing once more. It wouldn't be a surprise if he had a heart attack from the whole ordeal. “How do I know you won't push me away again?”
“Because I love you too much to let you go,” Yoongi said. “And I'm very selfish. I want you all to myself.”
Jimin wondered if he was dreaming. “Okay,” he murmured against the man's lips, “I'm yours.”
Jimin shifted against his pillows, fingers gently dancing against the cool sheets as his brain slowly woke up. Everything smelled of Yoongi, each time Jimin drug another breath through his nose the soft peeks of pine came through, something that hadn't happened in so long. He peeked an eye open to look around his bedroom, first noticing Fluffy curled up against his leg and then Yoongi sprawled against the blankets on the right side of the bed. Dazed from sleep, it took but a moment to remember all that had happened the night before, but as each memory faded back into place, Jimin felt his heart swell with a feeling he knew could only be love.
Yoongi had fallen asleep right next to Jimin the night before, as a result of an emotionally exhausting few hours spent together, all curled up with their lips gently touching in a good night kiss. It had been the first time in weeks that Jimin slept through the entire night and wasn't plagued with dreams of what his life could be.
And waking up next to Yoongi, knowing it wouldn't be the last time was something Jimin had craved for so long and now it was real, everything was real. The man he loved was peacefully sleeping right beside him with his hand just brushing against Jimin's, as they fell asleep holding them before. He bit the inside of his cheek and leaned in, placing a delicate kiss against the older man's temple, breathing the words I love you against his ear a moment later just because he could.
Yoongi shifted with the noise, hardly moving but he did crack an eye open to look around before meeting Jimin's gaze. There was a smile adorning his lips then, and his arm stretched out to catch Jimin's waist and bring him closer. “I love you,” he hummed, closing his eyes once more to fall back into a peaceful fit of sleep.
Jimin stayed in the warm crook of Yoongi's body until the blankets got too hot and his legs needed to be stretched, and then carefully slipped out of bed as to not disturb the former. His cellphone sat patiently against his bedside table, waiting to be picked up, beckoning him.
He grabbed for it and quietly moved from his bedroom to the kitchen, where he started a pot of coffee for himself and Yoongi when he woke up, and then sat at the table to stare at the dull screen of his phone. Now that he had Yoongi, there was one more thing he had to fix before things could be perfect again.
Jimin dialed Taehyung's number almost hesitantly, and then pressed the device up against his ear to listen to it ring, over and over again. For a moment he doubted his friend would pick up; it was late in France, wasn't it?
But when all hope dwindled, the ringing stopped and an unsure voice echoed through the speaker. “Jimin?”
“Hey,” Jimin hummed, feeling his eyes burn and nose begin to run. He missed his best friend more than ever. “We have a lot to talk about.”