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Jimin is nervous.
Quite fucking obviously, he’s nervous.
He’s been worrying about seeing Yoongi again ever since he entered the plane in California. Everybody knows he never really got over him—their breakup back then took a part of his existence from him.
He should be over him, shouldn’t he? It’s been ten years. He’s seeing others, and he practically never thinks about him. Yet the thought of having to see him again scares him. He doesn’t want to cry himself to sleep because of him anymore.
It was a stupid idea to attend the ten year anniversary of his class. Of course, he wants to see them again—but maybe it would’ve been better not to attend. A couple of hours in the same room as Yoongi…that sounds like living hell to him.
Jimin walks through the hallways of what used to be his high school, aiming for the cafeteria entry where they chose to celebrate together. Not much has changed in those ten years. The walls and ceilings are still the same color—the floor still has that terrible pattern he always hated—and the structure is still the same. The lockers have finally been replaced, leaving them in a way better condition than all those years ago. (The locker he used to have had a malfunction that always caused it to remain locked when he needed it the most).
He enters the cafeteria, met by at least thirty people all over the area. Some of them are gathered in small groups while others walk around to greet everyone. The tables have been moved to the side, food and drinks arranged on them. Some quiet music plays in the background, mixing together with the voices and laughs of his old classmates.
Out of reflex, Jimin immediately searches the room for the man he’s so afraid of meeting again—his ex boyfriend; the man he definitely shouldn’t look for first. There are many familiar faces but also some he doesn’t recognize anymore—he waves them anyway when they acknowledge him, just to be kind.
Yoongi has always been stunning—the kind of man everybody considered naturally pretty—but his old self is nothing compared to the man time has turned him into. Short, silver-dyed hair styled into a perfect middle part. Defined but soft features, sharp eyes, thin lips. Thin shoulders, defined shoulders, perfect ass, all covered by formal pants and button-up.
Jimin almost turns around and runs out of the room the second he lays his eyes on him. There’s no way in hell he’ll be able to spend hours in this room without drooling over him like an obsessed teen—the obsessed teen he once was.There’s multiple feet between them right now—Yoongi doesn’t even see him since he’s busy talking to the people he’s sitting with—and yet Jimin can barely hold himself, all the emotions and feelings he used to have for him returning.
Their relationship was the kind of love everybody wanted to have; it was passionate, emotional, unconditional—they were soulmates, Jimin is convinced by it until this day.
Jimin was talkative, loud, and energetic. Yoongi was calm and thoughtful—they were like Yin and Yang.
Their decision to break up was of mutual interest (that’s what Yoongi says, at least. Jimin never agreed to something less than he does to that. In his definition, it was Yoongi deciding everything like a selfish bitch.) Jimin was going to study in California while Yoongi went to New York; that would’ve been six to eight hours by air plus the costs of this every few weeks or months.
Right person, wrong time.
Instead of trying to collect himself, which would be the optional choice, he makes his way over to him, only realizing what he’s doing when it’s too late already. By the time he notices that talking to him is not a good idea, he already stands right in front of him. He doesn’t need to say a word to gain the attention of the three men sitting at the table. The two others notice him first, their eyes growing wide as they check him out.
Yoongi interrupts the sentence he just spoke, shutting his mouth as he turns towards him. His eyes wander up and down his body, lingering on his heaving chest for a little while.
Jimin can practically feel the awkward tension, his vocabulary entirely blown away. Yoongi literally takes his breath away by doing nothing but looking at him. What the actual fuck was he thinking approaching his ex boyfriend without a proper plan?
“Hey, Jimin,” Yoongi says, locking eyes with him as he pushes himself to his feet. “It’s good to see you again.” He smiles slightly, offering him a subtle nod.
Jimin melts away just by hearing his voice after a decade. It’s deep and attractive and the subtle rasp sends a chill down his spine. He swallows hard, staring into his dark eyes without a proper thought.
He still remembers the way Yoongi used to say his name in so many different ways. Soft spoken, suggestive, instructing, scolding. Jimin, Jiminie, Minnie, Min-ah, Jimin-ah—sometimes, when they were acting silly, Yoongi would call him some pet name, and Jimin always pretended to be weirded out by it when in reality, he loved it every single time.
Oh, the things he would do to hear Yoongi call him Minnie again.
“Yoongi! Hey-“ Jimin chuckles to cover up the tremble in his voice, quickly noticing it doesn’t work at all. “-long time no see!” He silences, pressing his lips to a thin line because he can tell they’re both aware of the weird tension between them.
Yoongi, lips slightly parted, shrugs—it’s what he always does when he doesn’t know what to say.
There’s nothing they could tell each other anyway—it was stupid of Jimin to approach him in the first place. Now they’re in a situation neither of them wants to be in, trapped in an interaction that’s anything but necessary.
“It’s been a while, certainly.” Yoongi partially turns back around to the table, pointing at the two men.
Kim Namjoon and Jung Hoseok, if Jimin doesn’t mistake them. They used to be Yoongi’s closest friends back in high school, though Jimin never exchanged many words with them. Sometimes, they’d sit together, but Jimin never had much attention left for them when Yoongi consumed every bit of it.
“We’ve been catching up with our life just now. Would you like to-“
“Oh, yeah sure! That’s totally my fault!” Jimin smiles, way too much and way too awkward, understanding he’s not wanted right now. “I didn't mean to interrupt—I just wanted to say hello. My bad. Apologies, really!” He offers them a subtle bow, turning on his heels and hurrying away without waiting for a reply.
Now that was the most awkward interaction he ever had in his life. He just came there to say hello—what the hell is wrong with him? He shouldn’t have approached him at all.
Without thinking twice, Jimin immediately goes on to search for the only person that will be able to help him out of his misery. A few other old classmates do talk to him on his way, but he keeps it short, a weight dropping off his shoulders when he finally catches a glimpse of the brown haired, tall man among the others. Jimin approaches him, grabs him by the shoulder, and pulls him away from the people he’s been talking to without caring whether it was important or not.
“Jiminie! Slow down—damn it!” Taehyung mutters. He stops short, the force pulling Jimin back and right into his chest. He spins around, pouting as he meets Taehyung’s gaze.
They used to be best friends back in high school and they still are, even though they don’t live in the same state. It’s been a few weeks since they saw each other for the last time, but that didn’t stop Jimin from spending multiple phone calls worrying and stressing over the reunion.
“I’m here for five minutes and I already need to dig my grave,” Jimin whines, dropping his head on Taehyung’s shoulder with an exaggerated cry.
“I thought you wanted to play it cool? All non-chalant and you’re over it.” Taehyung pats his back, working on guiding them to the side of the room, so they don’t stand in the middle of people while Jimin loses it.
That’s what Jimin claimed when they called; he was convinced he’d come here, offer Yoongi a quick hello, and casually continue his evening. What happens instead? He embarrasses himself, already lacks his will to live, and has a hammering heart just by thinking about that pathetic interaction.
“I didn’t play it cool.” Jimin hiccups a fake-sob, burying his face deeper in the crook of his neck. “I swear to you—the second I saw him, all I could do was drool! That idiot truly dared to become even more attractive!”
“Oh, Jiminie…” Taehyung slightly hugs him, one hand around his shoulders. “If there’s one thing you shouldn’t do, then it’s run back to him. Do you understand?”
“I know!” Jimin stomps his foot on the floor, pulled out of the hug by Taehyung all of a sudden. He grips his shoulders, staring at him with wide and serious eyes.
“Repeat after me: I’m not going to crawl back.” Taehyung punctuates his words by raising his brows, and Jimin glares to the side with a pout.
“M’ not gonna.”
Jimin’s not that pathetic. He’d be insane, trying to hit on him again after a goddamn decade. He’s over him, after all. He doesn’t even want him anymore!
“Good. Then we can move on! Let’s enjoy the reunion together!” With a smile, Taehyung takes his hand to pull him to the area with food and drinks.
The evening goes on quickly; their old class president together with a few other people holds a small speech, rewinding old times and thanking everyone for coming. The mood in general gets better the further they get, given the alcohol that’s provided.
Jimin has a few conversations with people he used to like back then, though he mostly sticks to Taehyung, avoiding Yoongi at all costs. Sometimes, he does allow himself a quick glance; Yoongi either talks to Hoseok and Namjoon or silently exists while the two have conversations with someone else. Once—or twice—though, Jimin is met by his dark eyes already lingering on him. His expression is always impossible to read, but he never looks away, even when Jimin stares back.
The later hours offer louder music and the opportunity for everyone to dance together. Jimin sits by, watching as everyone enjoys themselves together. (He’d love to join them, but he emptied one too many bottles already, and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself with his drunken moves.)
He must admit, now that he’s sitting here, he kind of misses the old times—and this doesn’t fully have to do with Yoongi. High school times used to be carefree and fun. He’d sit in classes and goof around with his classmates, pay attention every now and again, and simply enjoy his life. His youth. He’d sneak to parties on the weekends, get drunk with his friends…convince Yoongi to come with him.
He still remembers the first time Yoongi got drunk. It was a Saturday night and they were at a house party from some college students. They drank and danced together and it was the night Yoongi confessed to him. He got wasted, so Jimin took it upon himself to safely carry him somewhere his parents wouldn’t see him. But as they left the house, Yoongi refused to keep walking. He stood there, stumbled over his own words for multiple minutes. It was adorable to see him all flushed and nervous. And then he just said it, like it was the most normal thing to do.
The things Jimin would do to experience all of this again—to get to know Yoongi through a silly coincidence, to slowly fall in love with him, to have him confess, to live four happy years with him-
It could’ve been different. Their ways didn’t have to part—Jimin could’ve made sure they could be together. But Yoongi…he didn’t even try to give it a chance. He just gave up.
Jimin shakes his head, shaking all those thoughts off him because it doesn’t matter anymore. He raises the bottle to his lips, emptying a few more sips.
He does notice the person sitting down next to him, but he doesn’t bother to acknowledge them until he lowers the bottle. It almost drops to the ground when he turns to look at the silver haired man sitting next to him without a care in the world. He’s holding a bottle in his own hand, cheeks slightly flushed already. (Jimin used to be obsessed with a tipsy Yoongi just because of that.)
“Jiminie…you just ran away from me earlier,” Yoongi points out with a little pout, and Jimin doesn’t want to believe his eyes. He grips the bottle, forcing his eyes away from that kind of image.
He can’t tell what he’s more shocked about—Yoongi casually approaching him or Yoongi acting like it hasn’t been ten years since they last talked to each other. That’s not the kind of way you usually go on to talk to your ex boyfriend.
“I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me,” Jimin admits, running the tip of his tongue over his dry bottom lip.
“Of course I’d want to talk to you-“ Yoongi straightens up, tilting his head with a slight smirk as Jimin peeks at him. “-It’s been ten years. I’m curious about your life.”
Jimin chews his cheek, downing the rest of his bottle. “Well- I still live in California. I studied, and now I’m a dance instructor. Like I always wanted to be,” Jimin replies, not sure what else there is to say about his life. “How about you?” He dares to glance at him once again, but the intensity of Yoongi’s stare makes him look away right away.
It’s a weird situation, to say the least. Jimin never thought they’d reach this point. He always wanted to be part of Yoongi’s future, not hear about it in awkward small talk.
“Still New York. I also got the producer job I always wanted.”
Jimin hums to acknowledge his words, eyes glued to the feet of the people in front of him. The silence that follows carries so many things Jimin isn’t even sure what catches him the most. The awkwardness? The millions of unspoken words lingering on his—and most likely Yoongi’s—tongue? The flash backs of the time they shared?
“I thought about reaching out to you a few times,” Yoongi says after a while, catching Jimin by surprise. He turns to look at him with big eyes, managing a quiet huh? Is this the kind of talk they’re going to have now? After Jimin made sure to avoid just that? “You were quick with ignoring my texts back then—I guess I was curious.” Yoongi’s Adam’s apple rises in a swallow, his eyes searching for a specific point in Jimin’s face.
After Jimin moved to California, they still stayed in contact—or at least they tried to. It was okay at first, but the second Jimin left, he couldn’t handle it anymore. Every message reminded him of the time they won’t have anymore, and so he started ghosting him quite soon. Yoongi stopped texting him after a while.
Jimin drops his head, shrugging slightly. There’s nothing he could say to that without making a fool of himself, and he isn’t obligated to anyway. He had every right not to text him anymore.
“So? How’s your personal life been? Married with kids already?” Yoongi continues once he realizes he won’t get an answer, a lighter manner scratching his tone.
“No, not at all—I’m still searching for the husband of my dreams,” Jimin retorts, snorting out a chuckle.
This conversation has to be a hallucination. Maybe he drank one too much and is imagining things? Why the fuck is his ex boyfriend asking him about his current love life—and why does that reply make the corner of his lips snap up for a split second?
Jimin will lose it if Yoongi seduces him now.
“Yeah, me too.” Yoongi lowers his gaze, languidly raising the bottle to his lips. It’s distracting Jimin fully, the way he swallows his drink without a care in the world, and the way he tugs his hair behind his ear right after is even more pleasant to watch.
Another moment of silence passes, only that it’s not really awkward anymore. As much as Jimin tries to remain unfazed, there’s nothing he can do against the things Yoongi’s natural charm do to him. It’s captivating, fascinating, and definitely not good.
“Jiminie…” Yoongi calls out after a minute, his voice a pitch lower than before. He squints, examining every inch of his face with caution. “-it’s good to see you again.” He scoots an almost invisible inch closer, and Jimin draws in a breath, damning himself for already having emptied his bottle.
“I must admit, I felt a little awkward at first—you’re my ex, after all. But…I guess I’m also glad to see you again.” There’s so much more Jimin wants to say, but none of it is appropriate.
He wants to call him out for breaking up with him—and he wants to know if he sometimes still thinks about them. Does he fall asleep to their memories sometimes? Jimin does.
“It’s cruel that life ripped us apart like that,” Yoongi says, and Jimin clutches his jaw to stop himself from getting snappy.
Life ripped us apart. That’s ridiculous, wrong, and just a pathetic way to brush the blame off him. Jimin stays quiet for the sake of the mood—it’s not comfortable, but speaking out his thoughts would definitely make it miserable. All he does is nod as he circles his fingers around the bottle, zeroing in on the ground ahead of them.
Maybe embarrassing himself with his drunken dance moves would’ve been better than this conversation.
“Do you feel it, too?” Yoongi asks, his voice carrying a kind of seriousness he didn’t have before.
Jimin squints at his side—he doesn’t quite understand what Yoongi is trying to tell him right now. There are a lot of options, but each of them is worse than the ones he thinks of before.
“What d’ you mean?” Jimin doesn’t miss out on the way Yoongi removes another inch from their distance.
“I’m over you, but…I never forgot how good it felt. It’s all coming back right now.” Yoongi’s hand lingers on the side of his thigh all of a sudden, the tips of his fingers brushing the fabric of his jeans. Jimin watches as he trails it down to his knee, his eyes losing focus.
It’s insane. Ten years have passed, and yet Yoongi still remembers how he needs to touch him to get him all dizzy and irritated. He’s really responsive to getting touched at his thighs (Yoongi always teased him with it when they were in public, no matter how appropriate it was for the situation.)
“Now I feel it, too,” Jimin whispers as he instinctively moves his thigh against Yoongi’s hand, his breath hitching. Yoongi’s fingers dig into the fabric for a brief moment, applying just the right amount of pressure to his outer thigh.
At this point, Jimin has already lost. Every second of Yoongi touching him fogs another inch of the rational part of his brain, and every memory makes him want to forget about the past ten years—and the promise he gave Taehyung.
“Would it be wrong?” Yoongi asks, his fingertips trailing from Jimin’s knee to his inner thigh.
Jimin drops his head, clutching his thighs out of pure reflex—but Yoongi doesn’t let himself get bothered by it. He even uses the opportunity to let his fingers wander to his other thigh, drawing slow circles.
“Very wrong.” Jimin pushes his back against the chair, entirely failing at playing it cool. He can feel Yoongi’s intense gaze pierce through his side, but he doesn’t dare to meet it, knowing damn well that’d be the downfall.
“Do you mind it?” Yoongi is way closer all of a sudden, his hot breath tickling Jimin’s lobe. He moves up with his hand, and Jimin chokes out a gasp when his fingers brush his crotch.
It’s exactly like it was all those years ago; one subtle touch of Yoongi is enough for Jimin to forget about everything around him. He doesn’t pay attention to any of his other classmates anymore, even forgetting that everyone can see them right now. Does it even matter? Why would anyone pay attention to them anyway?
Jimin grips Yoongi’s hand and presses it against his inner thigh, releasing a shaky breath as arousal surges in his insides.
“I didn’t want to come at first because I knew that would happen should I see you again.” Jimin guides Yoongi’s hand the way he likes it, thriving on the way he manages to tighten his grip at the right moments.
“And I wanted to come because I knew it would happen.” Yoongi leans in even closer, his soft lips brushing his jaw. “Jiminie…let me feel you again. I miss you.” His voice is soft, and Jimin loses it, nodding before he even comprehends his words.
Jimin craves it—he craves Yoongi’s touch, longs for his lips, and he never really got over him. No one ever managed to make him feel the way Yoongi did, so why bother about the consequences? Just for tonight…he wants to feel good for just one night, even if it’ll hurt as soon as he’s sober.
They reach the restrooms on the higher floor in no time, Jimin’s back hitting the wall before the door even closes. He grabs Yoongi by the collar and pulls him close, their lips crashing together.
Everything comes back with that kiss—the passion, the feelings, the desperation. Jimin feels ten years younger, like he’s all the way back in high school, having the time of his life.
Yoongi’s lips still feel the same, and the way he kisses didn’t change either. Inviting, soothing, encouraging, affection—
Something’s different. Not even the taste of alcohol is able to cover it up.
“You’re smoking now?” Jimin manages between their kisses.
“You’d understand if you worked as a producer.” Yoongi urgently rolls his tongue against his, hands running up and down his sides.
“I thought it’s your dream job.” Jimin, keeping his eyes closed, slightly works against the way Yoongi is trying to kiss him. Not because it’s bad—he just wants to remind him he’s not just adapting. He pushes his hips against the wall, breath hitching as Yoongi’s cold fingertips meet the hot skin of his waist.
“My work is the most unsexy topic we could talk about right now,” Yoongi mutters, ripping a chuckle from Jimin. The noise of amusement turns into a groan the second Yoongi presses his thigh against his crotch, hands gripping his waist.
Oh, how much Jimin missed it.
Yoongi grips him and turns them around, guiding Jimin backwards until his lower back meets the edge of the sink. He half-leans back against it, half- presses their bodies together, trying hard to keep the distance between them as low as possible.
“I missed you—fuck, I missed all of this,” Yoongi manages, his hands back on Jimin’s thighs. He grips with a little force, ghosts over them, maps the outlines—Jimin gladly leans into his touch, chasing after his own desires at the same time. He jerks against his hand, groaning at the perfect kind of friction.
Yoongi understands right away and works his palm against his clothed erection, his other hand wandering all over his torso
“You’re a fucking idiot-“ Jimin grunts, hips jerking back. “-if you told me you’d study in New York, I could-“ He’s shushed by a finger on his lips, the hand on his cock stilling for a moment.
“Shhh…don’t ruin it,” Yoongi shakes his head, finger trailing over his bottom lip. Neither of them moves—they simply stare at each other, at the millions of unspoken words between them.
Jimin’s just one step away from stopping this to have a talk instead. He never recovered from the things Yoongi did to him, and he’d have every right to insist on answers. It wasn’t fair. What Yoongi did was selfish, and Jimin hates him for it until this day.
“Shut that pretty mouth of yours and just enjoy it,” Yoongi tries, and Jimin chews his cheek, hands firm on his shoulders. “…Minnie, it doesn’t matter right now.” Yoongi presses his palm against him, Jimin’s head falling back in response.
It’s cruel…the fact that Jimin is absolutely incapable of controlling himself around him. He wants answers, but the way Yoongi touches him rips it all away from him. Within a second, the mood takes a whole one-eighty again, and Jimin is all the way back at chasing after his lips like it’s the only thing he ever wanted.
Maybe it is. Maybe kissing Yoongi was everything he lived for, even when he was gone.
Yoongi undoes Jimin’s pants with ease, his hand slipping past the band right away. In response, Jimin hurriedly trails down, presses a kiss to his cheek, his jaw, all the way to his throat. He groans against his skin, face scrunching up—he doesn’t let it stop him. He proceeds, eagerly sucking on Yoongi’s pale skin.
Seeing the marks later on—the stark contrast—is the hottest thing Jimin can possibly think of. He wants—needs to see it again.
He continues to place various all over his exposed throat while jerking his hips against his hand, gladly letting it get a hold of him. The heavy sighs and hums Yoongi offers him in response are heavenly.
“That silver hair makes you a million times more sexy,” Jimin points out as he pulls away, using his hands to steady himself left and right on the sink. He rolls his head into his neck, Yoongi’s hand driving him crazy.
“What, are you saying my natural hair didn’t suit me?” Yoongi takes advantage of his revealed throat and presses his lips on the tanned skin. He proceeds further with his hand, slipping it inside his boxers.
“With the glasses? You looked kinda nerdy,” Jimin teases. He means it, but nicely. A plain observation. Yoongi digs his teeth into his sensitive skin anyway, just to let him know he doesn’t enjoy that comment. “Geez! I liked the nerdy you!” Jimin presses his fingers against the sink, heat and arousal rushing through his veins. “Mind you, I like it when you bite me. That’s a bad kind of punishment.”
Yoongi huffs, his breath tickling on his throat. “You also like this, don’t you?” He runs the tip of his tongue over the spots he just bit into, and Jimin’s face scrunches up, his bottom lip captured by his own teeth.
“Fuck yeah.” Jimin doesn’t know what turns him on more, the physical arousal of this? Or the fact that Yoongi still remembers his preferences? Ten years later, and he still knows where exactly to bite into, what to grab, and what to say to get Jimin all dizzy and lightheaded.
Yoongi brings a few inches distance between them after another bite, his hand disappearing from his dick as well. Jimin drops his head, desperately searching for Yoongi’s eyes. They’re dark and full of passion—Jimin loves to be looked at like this. Like he’s the most precious person ever.
Too bad no one but Yoongi ever bothered to look at him like this. He had a lot of eyes lingering on him, but they never offered him more than physical attraction or desperation. But not Yoongi. Even now, when they’re just one step away from fucking, he looks at him with more than that. A puddle of admiration blazes in them—almost like he never actually stopped loving him.
Or like it’s all coming back right now, at least. Jimin shouldn’t be delusional now. No one could love the same person for a decade without actually being with them, not even Yoongi. As beautiful as it sounds—to reunite after ten years of suffering—he knows this is nothing but a quick hookup. To enjoy it one last time.
He watches as Yoongi spits into his hand, the other grabbing him by the waist to pull him a bit away from the sink. He wraps his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders, staying close to savor his warmth for a little while. The elder gently kisses his jaw, mumbling sweet nothings as he carefully slips the first finger inside him. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but Jimin quickly gets used to it, relaxing and thriving on the way it feels like.
Yoongi has huge hands, and the way he knows how to properly use his fingers is heavenly. He moves them slowly, crooks them, jerks and withdraws—Jimin misses the times when it was normal for him to get the taste of this every few days.
“Yoongi…use two. That’s barely going to help us,” Jimin instructs, eagerly jerking against his hand. He appreciates the care, but he’ll lose it if they don’t proceed faster.
“Still as needy, hm?” Yoongi does what he’s told to, adding a second finger within his next motion. Jimin feels the increasing pressure right away, a moan slipping past his lips. He pushes against his fingers and drops his gaze, catching a glimpse of Yoongi’s still clothed crotch—the way his pants strain entirely betray him.
“Not only me,” Jimin counters, trailing his hand over his chest, down to his lower belly. “You’re just as desperate to fuck me.” He places his hand on Yoongi’s dick, ripping a deep hum from him.
It’s the most beautiful noise he’s ever heard in his life. Yoongi’s voice is addicting. Deep and comfortable—a pitch lower and breathy right after he wakes up.
“How could I not? I’ve waited ten years.” Yoongi adds a third finger while Jimin continues to work his palm against him.
It’s exciting Jimin—just his fingers are enough to get him all undone and desperate for release.
“Ngh, just fuck me already,” Jimin mutters, jerking away from his fingers. He impatiently undoes Yoongi’s pants, legs weak from all the emotions rushing through his body.
“Gladly.” Yoongi turns him around and pushes him against the sink, keeping his hands firm on his waist.
Jimin helplessly grips the sink for support, brain fizzling out as Yoongi pushes inside him in one, quick thrust. Yoongi picks up a pace right away, Jimin’s head dropping with a moan.
“Fuck—Ngh, you feel so fucking good.” Yoongi grunts, running one hand over Jimin’s back. “Minnie…Jiminie, give me your hand.” Jimin listens up right away, managing to keep himself up with only one hand, so he can give Yoongi the other. Yoongi intertwines their fingers and rests them on Jimin’s lower back, proceeding to fuck him with more force. The mix of his rough thrusts and the gentle touch arouses Jimin even more, his heart hammering in his chest.
Yoongi’s other hand suddenly grips him by the collar, pulling him up against his chest. It takes Jimin’s opportunity to steady himself on the sink, forcing him to carry all his weight with his weak legs.
“You prick! You know how much I hate to fuck while standing! Hmnh, fuck!” Jimin struggles, even though it feels incredible. Yoongi’s thrusts push him against the edge of the sink each time, causing additional friction on his dick—both of it happening at the same time is almost too much for his drunk brain.
“I got you.” Yoongi’s voice is barely above a whisper, his face buried in Jimin’s shoulder. He slows his thrusts, allowing him to actually focus on something else. “I never forgot about you…Jimin, it still hurts to think about you.” Yoongi places a soft kiss on his throat, and Jimin drops his head, eyes growing wide as the words fully reach him.
“You told me not to ruin it. Stick to your own mindset,” Jimin manages, ignoring his aching heart.
They’re fucking right now. Jimin is prepared for the consequences afterwards—he will not deal with this. He wants to enjoy his dick, not think about the fact that he’s his ex. Or broke his heart. Or literally ruined everything.
“Back then, you would’ve enjoyed it if I got emotional.” Yoongi keeps him close, despite the indirect rejection, pressing a hesitant kiss to his neck.
“It’s not back then anymore.” Jimin swallows hard, almost feeling bad for denying him a cute talk. But his cock is fully buried inside him right now—this is the worst moment he could’ve chosen.
“Bet you’ll still moan my name the same.” Yoongi picks up his pace again, and all Jimin can do is cry out and accept it. His body tenses up, his head falls back, then drops forward as Yoongi places kisses all across his neck. To his jaw, cheek—all the way to his lips, claiming them desperately.
Jimin struggles to properly return the favor—he’s overwhelmed by everything that’s going on at the same time. Yoongi fucking him, his hand captured by his, their kiss, Yoongi’s chest pressed against his back, the reality of this situation, the subtle reminder they’re supposed to celebrate with their classmates—he pulls away to catch his breath, moaning breathlessly.
“Exhausted already?” Yoongi releases his waist and pushes him forward, Jimin flinching as his chest meets the cool surface of the sink. He jerks his hips against Yoongi’s thrusts, longing for more and more.
“Come on—don’t be stupid,” Jimin retorts, a loud moan leaving his lips right after. Yoongi isn’t any better, his own moans and grunts adding to Jimin’s noises.
“Tell me, Minnie…did anyone else fuck you this good?” Yoongi asks, and Jimin snorts out a strained chuckle, knowing damn well what he wants to hear.
Yoongi has always been the type of guy to enjoy getting praised for his skills. He’d casually ask such things, and Jimin always answered them—he always made sure to tell him more than enough how good he is and how much he loves what’s happening.
But not this time. He feels anything but the need to please him right now.
“It’s been a decade…you’ve a lot of competition-“ A rough tug on his hair cuts him short, ripping a cry from his throat. He pushes his head back to decrease the tension, but Yoongi just goes with it, pulling his hair so much he isn’t able to follow along anymore. It almost hurts.
“Do I now?” There’s something in Yoongi’s voice that reaches Jimin just right, his eyes fluttering close. He pushes his hips against the sink, fully resting his chest on it for support as Yoongi picks up his pace.
Oh, how Jimin loves it when he gets a little rough.
He’s on the verge of cumming, every deep thrust pushes him closer and closer—he knows he won’t be able to hold on for much longer, every nerve in his body on fire.
“Maybe—ngh…maybe you do, maybe not.” Jimin refuses to say it, admit it. He doesn’t deserve to hear the truth—the fact that no one ever fucked him this well—after everything that happened.
“It’s cute to see you try and deny it.” Yoongi huffs, Jimin choking out a cry when he gives his hair another rough tug. “Nobody could ever make you feel the way I do…nobody could ever get you this undone.” Yoongi releases his hand to grip the sides of his thighs, keeping him steady as he recklessly fucks into him.
“Somethin’ equal…you too,” Jimin chokes out. He arches his back slightly a little, his orgasm almost in reach. “No one’s as good as I am…M’ close.” His vision blurs, his breath quick and heavy as it mixes with his helpless moans.
“Cum with me, will you?” Yoongi changes his rhythm one last time. It’s slow rather than fast and rough, offering Jimin to fully focus on the orgasm that builds up in his insides.
Jimin cries out Yoongi’s name, losing it fully as he feels the warm fluid spread inside him. He tips over the edge, his orgasm hitting him hard. His legs almost give up on him, his forehead meeting the surface of the sink. Yoongi keeps fucking him to extend his high for another moment before stopping, not yet pulling out.
“You’re right-“ Yoongi’s arms wrap around his belly and pull him up, but Jimin is too done with everything to put any strength into his body. He weakly stumbles against his chest, somewhat managing to tilt his head enough to meet his gaze. “-There’s no one like you.” Yoongi’s voice is soft, soothing—exactly what Jimin’s heart craves.
He doesn’t manage to come up with a reply, so he decides to just close the distance between them and kiss him with all the passion and feelings he still has for him. Yoongi returns the gesture, his arms around him tightening slightly. The tension quickly fades away, and Jimin begins to feel the urge to get cleaned up and catch some fresh air. He pulls away, barely managing to properly verbalize his wants.
He doesn’t say anything, but he silently appreciates it when Yoongi helps him wash the fluids off his body and get dressed again. They both try to look as decent as possible, but no matter what they do, they still look like they just fucked. The bites and marks would betray them anyway.
They agree on leaving rather than returning to the still ongoing party, both of them acknowledging it’s for the best.
Jimin feels weird as they walk through the hallway and leave the building—not only because his knees are wobbly and his body greatly decreased in strength—there’s a deafening silence between them that carries all the unspoken words and complaints. The fresh air feels good anyway, sobering his brain a little bit.
“I suppose you’re staying in a hotel here?” Yoongi guesses, holding in his tracks in the middle of the parking lot. Jimin does the same, spinning around to look at him.
“I’m not going to let you in, so don’t even bother to ask,” Jimin retorts, offering him a smirk despite meaning just that. He can already see the breakdown coming, and he’d appreciate to be alone when he cries himself to sleep.
What an irony.
Jimin spent many days crying himself to sleep when they broke up back then—he can’t even count the amount of times. Who would’ve thought seeing Yoongi again would bring all of it back to his life? Passionate sex, silly bickering, glances of affection, emotional damage, tears—it’s too much of a throwback, and Jimin doesn’t like it anymore.
“My idea was that I could drive you. It’d be better and cheaper than a taxi.” Yoongi nods to a direction, and Jimin just expects it to be the way to his car.
“Do I look like I can’t afford a taxi? But if you want to drive me this badly, I guess.” Jimin shrugs, catching a glimpse of the tiny smile that settles on Yoongi’s lips.
“Let’s get you to your hotel, hm?” Yoongi turns on his heels to walk into the direction he nodded to, Jimin following quickly.
It’s when they reach a black BMW that Jimin’s momentum falters. He stops short in front of the car, his unfocused gaze wandering over Yoongi’s side, to his neck—to the leftovers of their actions. Subtle, some a little more prominent, marks.
Whatever Jimin’s going to do won’t affect his life. Whether he embarrasses himself or not doesn’t matter—he’ll be out of this town in two days, and everything will be part of his past.
“We’ll have to-“ Yoongi begins, but he silences the second he catches a glimpse of Jimin glaring at him.
“Why?” Jimin slowly approaches him until there’s only two feet left between them. He keeps his eyes on him, clearly noticing the way his face falls. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d study in New York? I could’ve looked for a university nearby—it could’ve been different.” Jimin swallows down the urge to tell him how fucking angry he is with him for betraying him in such a cruel way.
Yoongi didn’t tell Jimin he’d study in New York when they applied for college back then. He lied and said he’d be looking for something in California as well—and then he went on to hit him with the truth when he wanted to start looking for an apartment for them.
Minie…I’m sorry. I know I should’ve told you earlier—I’m not going to study in California. I’m not going to move with you. The words are still engraved into Jimin’s mind.
The scars that betrayal left eventually made him agree to break up. If they talked about it beforehand—if Yoongi told him he’d go to New York, they could’ve talked and tried to find a solution together.
But the way Yoongi handled it…he decided for himself that breaking up was the right thing to do, and he also put down a long distance relationship by himself—left Jimin no other choice but to accept it.
It never was an equal decision.
“I know—I know you would’ve given up on your dream university for me.” Yoongi’s voice is barely above a whisper, head dropping.
Jimin curls his hands into weak fists, expecting more of a reply because that is not a proper explanation. Yoongi takes a moment to examine his face before shrugging, taking an almost invisible step closer.
“Jiminie…that’s why I didn’t tell you.”
Jimin draws in a breath—he doesn’t know whether he should be touched by Yoongi caring this much about his dreams or upset that he believes a university would’ve been more important than their relationship.
“But-“ Jimin tries, but gets interrupted by Yoongi shaking his head.
“You talked about California before we even got together. You wanted to go there since you were a child.” Yoongi decreases the distance between them even more, cupping his face. “I love you and I want you to be happy—I always did. I couldn’t have been with you, knowing you gave up on your dream for me.”
Jimin contemplates whether he wants to lean further into his touch or pull away, the words hitting him like a brick in the face. All those years, he believed it was a selfish decision just to find out Yoongi simply wanted him to chase after his dream.
Needless to say Jimin still doesn’t agree—the urge to punch some right sense into him remains. Dreams change, and yeah, he wanted to study in California, but he wanted to be with Yoongi so much more.
“It would’ve been four years of long distance…then we could’ve been together again.” Jimin decides that leaning into it sounds more appealing. He places his hands on top of Yoongi’s, gaze trapped by him.
“You wouldn’t have deserved that. I’ve jealously issues, and you know that.” The way Yoongi looks at him literally breaks Jimin. His eyes are full of longing and affection, but it’s covered up by sadness—by the fact that it’s over.
“Yoongi…” It hurts. Just as Jimin is about to finally pull away, he realizes what Yoongi just said. He rips his eyes open, his emotions bottling up quickly. “Wait—you used present tense. You-“ Jimin doesn’t dare to say it out loud. It feels forbidden.
“Certainly. I-…I’ve never been over you.”
Maybe Jimin won’t be able to last until he reaches his hotel room. Everything gathers into one big puddle, a tear rolling down his cheek before he even notices what’s happening.
“You fucking idiot!” Jimin releases his hands to punch his chest. He has yet to decide how happy he is about that confession right now. “Why the fuck did it take you ten years to tell me about that?!” Another tear escapes his eye, leaving a hot trail on his cheek.
“The way you ghosted me kind of gave you’re over me and done with us.” Yoongi shrugs, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips—as if this situation carried anything positive.
“No—don’t you dare blaming this on me!” Jimin takes a step away, running a shaky hand through his hair. He can’t believe this. He can’t believe they’re having this conversation right now. He had every goddamn right to ghost him back then!
“Trust me, I know it’s my fault.” Yoongi sighs, gaze still lingering on him.
“Do you understand what we’re doing here right now, Yoongi? Nothing changed since back then—I still live in California. I’m still out of reach for you…why are you doing this to me?” Jimin releases a long breath—an exhale of despair.
The silence that follows is loud. Jimin stares at Yoongi, impatiently waiting for a reply. He doesn’t even know what he wants to hear, but he can’t let it end like this.
“Minie…” Yoongi dips his head, shrugging slightly. Like always when he doesn’t know what to say. “Give me a second chance. Don’t ask me how the fuck I want it to work—I don’t know yet, but I’ll think of something. I just want you back in my life. Please. Let me be the husband of your dreams.”
What?
Jimin wishes he drank more alcohol earlier. Then, he could try and convince himself he’s imagining this right now. He came here, scared to see his ex boyfriend after ten years—and now he’s asked to give just that ex boyfriend a second chance? In a ridiculously adorable way, admittedly.
“I wish I could believe you this easily…but you broke my trust once already. In the worst way possible.” Jimin tilts his head away from him. “You’re drunk—I’m drunk. This is a pointless conversation.” The shock was big enough to drown out the pain, his tears already dried.
“Then let's talk tomorrow. I’ll invite you to a coffee or dinner or whatever. I’ll show you I mean it, even when I’m sober.” Yoongi comes a step closer again, hand reaching for his shoulder—a touch that’s bittersweet.
“We’ll see about that. What you’re going to do now is drive me to my hotel. I can’t stand you anymore right now.” Jimin gives him a look, trying hard not to hate him. For the bullshit he pulled ten years ago, for the bullshit he’s pulling right now, and that pathetic gist of hope in his gaze.
“As you wish.” Yoongi turns on his heels and heads to his car, Jimin following along.
What this means? That decision’s left to sober Jimin the next morning. He doesn’t want to concern himself with it anymore.
It’s been enough Yoongi for today.