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***
This idiot seriously needs to stop puckering those lips in the most ungodly way.
Not that any way is ever not ungodly where Park Jimin and his lips are concerned.
It’s reckless, the way the guy juts them out, too—in amusement, in confusion, in deep thought, in whatever—like he’s completely unaware of the chaos he’s causing.
Because whenever Jimin starts pushing those lips out—those stupidly perfect lips that are as thick as sin—Yoongi’s brain short-circuits, melting into one clear, single-celled purpose—
Kiss… Kiss… Kisssss…
So, Yoongi ended up kissing Namjoon that one time they were drinking with their friends.
Everyone was drunk, Jimin was sitting right across the table, and Yoongi’s head was all messed up from watching him all night.
Namjoon’s lips were just... there.
But then Namjoon kissed him back.
And damn Namjoon for that, because now Yoongi had to keep going with everyone egging them on. He’d even grabbed the guy’s face, tilting it just right, deepening the kiss like he owned Namjoon’s mouth.
It was all fun and games, both of them too wasted to care.
Except Namjoon had to go blab to the group about how insanely good Yoongi was, calling his kiss the kind that leaves you breathless. All tongue and heat, and no mercy.
Maybe it’s why, next time they hit up the club, a tipsy Hoseok had leaned in and kissed him, too.
And the next day, the guy went around telling everyone how Yoongi could suck the Han River dry and how he definitely knew what to do with his nibbly little teeth.
Jin had to make sure “these two simps aren’t lying.”
Taehyung went for it twice. First, to see what a good kiss felt like, and then again just to make sure he got it right.
Jungkook even had the gall to grab Yoongi’s face, trying to assert dominance, until Yoongi bit down hard on his bottom lip, just enough to make the cocky brat gasp and lose any illusion of control he thought he had.
Yoongi swung himself up onto the table, much to their friend’s drunken delight, trapping Jungkook between his legs, and tilting the guy’s face up in a vice grip to plunge his tongue deeper into his mouth, turning the guy’s topping dreams into a whimpering mess of a blissed-out bottom’s reality in no time.
And Jimin had been there, like he’d been there for all of it, just watching, cheering, always from right across the table.
Always there the next day too, grinning like an idiot, teasing his hyung like it didn’t mean a thing that their friends had practically turned Yoongi’s mouth into a drunken conquest.
Of course, those kisses didn’t mean anything. Just some dumb stories to file away as bro anecdotes to laugh about later when they're all old, gray, and bored.
So why does it twist him up inside, a sharp sting flaring in his chest, knowing Jimin thinks the same way?
***
A couple of months later, after Yoongi's kiss has become the stuff of drunken legend, talks about it spreading far beyond their core group—with friends of friends showing up on bro Fridays just to get a piece of the infamous smoocher—Jimin strolls up to him, asking for a favor that throws Yoongi for a loop.
“What did you just say?”
“I said, teach me how to kiss, hyung.”
The words hang in the air, awkward like a punchline gone wrong.
Yoongi squints, waiting for Jimin to crack a grin and say it’s all a joke, his gaze flicking toward the doorway, half-expecting to catch Jungkook lurking there with a camera, ready to jump out and yell, "Gotcha!"
Jungkook’s not there.
And Jimin looks dead serious, those soft eyes wide with anticipation, his ungodly lips puckering up again, like a tempting little bribe that almost makes Yoongi cave right on the spot.
In the middle of the afternoon. In broad daylight. In Yoongi’s indoor garden of herbs and spices. Neither of them drunk, nor making much sense.
'Teach me how to kiss.' It sounds like something straight out of one of those cheesy rom-coms Jimin loves to watch with Jungkook these days.
Come to think of it, he’s been coming over more often lately.
Not for Yoongi, of course, but for Yoongi’s roommate—
His mouth goes dry just thinking about it. “Why don’t you ask Jungkook?”
Yoongi plucks a few basil leaves from their stems, eyes fixed on the greenery like it’s the most important task in the world, looking as unbothered as he possibly can while his heart pounds in his ears.
"Why would I ask Jungkook?" Jimin’s voice squeaks in disbelief, like Yoongi’s the one spouting out nonsense.
That familiar sting flares up in his chest again, the one Yoongi’s become a pro at pretending doesn’t hurt.
Because lately, it’s Jungkook Jimin’s been cozying up with, laughing, teasing, getting all snug on the couch like Yoongi’s just a backdrop to their own little rom-com world.
And now, this—
"Why are you asking me?" Yoongi blurts, pulse jumping in his throat as he plucks a small green Thai chili, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise but, thankfully, not break. "You think I got nothing better to do?"
He stands to reach for a nearby herb, stealing a glance at Jimin. He catches the twitch in the guy’s lips just as his expression falters. There’s a flicker of something almost vulnerable in those eyes, his brows knitting together while a flush slowly creeps up his cheeks.
He looks so pitiful, Yoongi could almost feel sorry.
"C'mon, hyung! Everybody's already kissed you but me!" Jimin whines, his voice taking on a playful, exaggerated lilt, like he's a kid about to stomp his foot in mock protest.
Still, it lands like a sucker punch to the gut, making Yoongi’s cheeks burn, as he curses under his breath, almost yanking out an entire bunch of cilantro when he really only needs a handful.
He’s lost count of how many lips he’s kissed—not that he’s ever bothered to keep track—during those hazy, booze-soaked nights, with friends and some friends’ friends treating his mouth like a damn buffet.
He’s never really minded. Those lips were nothing but fleeting distractions, anyway. Effective, but never lasting.
Passing fancies that paled and faded away when stacked against the one pair of lips he truly, madly, deeply craves to kiss.
The pair of lips that are now asking him for a lesson, like the idiot thinks kissing is nothing but a skill to learn, and kissing Min Yoongi is just a box to tick off this week’s to-do list.
Yoongi doesn’t want that.
He wants more than that.
Because this is Jimin.
Jimin, who’s standing way too close now, a hint of his cologne mingling with the fresh, earthy scent of Yoongi’s greens, making his heart race faster and his skin feel warmer, more alive, blurring the lines between comfort and intoxication.
Yoongi swallows hard, fighting the urge to just turn and give the guy what he wants, if only to shut him up.
But then, what’s next?
“When’s it gonna be my turn?”
There’s a long, drawn-out beat where Yoongi’s logical brain flatlines, caught in Jimin's gaze that somehow manages to look both innocent and mischievous at once.
He knows this is a bad idea.
And he’s not nearly dumb enough to fold like a cheap deck of cards.
“Go find someone else to play house with, Jiminah. I don’t have time for this shit.”
He catches the flash of hurt in Jimin’s eyes, and for a heartbeat, guilt starts to tug at his chest.
But then a smirk starts to spread across those sinfully pouty lips. “Guess I’ll take your advice and ask Jungkook then. He probably kisses better than you anyway.”
With a dramatic spin, he struts away, leaving Yoongi feeling like he just lost a game he didn’t even know he was playing.
He stares, jaw slack, heart pounding, long after Jimin has disappeared.
The world around him fades into a dozen scenarios of what-could-have and what-will-now-never-be, until Jungkook himself strolls by to snap him out of it.
And when he sees the guy’s face, Yoongi starts to growl, “Don’t you fucking—,” but then he remembers where he is, what hasn’t happened yet, sees the genuine confusion in Jungkook’s eyes, and his blind bite instantly loses its edge, “—dare…"
"What?! Hyung! What'd I do?!"
“Nothing. Sorry.” He turns and starts walking away, still half-dazed, leafy greens cradled in his hands like the precious little treasures that they are. “Just keep your lips to yourself…”
“Oh, they’re not going anywhere.”
Nowhere near Jimin, if you value your life… Yoongi almost quips, but stops himself, realizing he has no right at all to be staking claims on something he can’t even be man enough to claim himself.
***
The next few days are pure torture for Yoongi.
Jimin and Jungkook are suddenly in the apartment every night after work, their banter and laughter bouncing off the walls from the second they burst through the door.
Like it isn’t enough that they already work in the same building, for the same company, even the same department, practically stuck at the hip all day, only to waltz into Yoongi’s living room at night like they own the damn place.
Well, Jungkook does share the lease, but still.
At first, it grated on Yoongi's nerves like nails on a chalkboard, but then he figured it’s probably better this way.
At least he can keep an eye on them. Better here, under his roof, than wondering what they’re up to somewhere else.
Yoongi finds himself whipping up dinner for them anyway, even though he’d vowed to never do it out of sheer spite, fueled by a rivalry and a bruised ego that his rival doesn’t even seem to be aware of. Or bothered, or threatened by.
He even makes a point of plopping down on the couch beside them, joining their movie nights, serving beers, snacks, whatever keeps them in his line of sight.
His eyes dart between the two of them, watching, waiting for the moment they’ll finally kiss, his stomach twisting up in knots every time they lean too close to each other, whispering, giggling—
It’s messing with his head.
So by Thursday night and without even thinking, he agrees to hang out with Hoseok at his place, to start brainstorming on a presentation they’re not even due to deliver until next month.
But as soon as he steps through the door, it hits him, how Hoseok is Jimin’s roommate and cousin to boot, and how maybe this could be a setup to keep him away from the apartment so Jimin and Jungkook can finally be by themselves.
This messes with his head even more.
And Hoseok picks up on it right away, like he always does. He leans in, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and pries the story out of Yoongi, effortlessly peeling back the layers like a ripe piece of tangerine.
Within minutes, Hoseok is cracking up, practically rolling on the floor at Yoongi’s expense.
“Hyung, relax. He’s messing with you!”
Yoongi sulks and starts to question the point of this friendship.
“Messing with me? He literally threatened to kiss Jungkook, and he’s probably doing that now!”
“Nah, not our Jiminie. He’s all talk, hyung. The guy’s greener than you think.”
Yoongi raises an eyebrow, caught off guard by Hoseok’s words. He can't tell if Hoseok’s just tipsy or if he’s finally lost it, especially since they’ve barely made a dent in their first bottles of beer. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Hoseok smirks. “Jimin’s a motherfuckin’ unicorn, bro! He’s never even been kissed!”
Yoongi’s mind races, struggling to wrap itself around what he’s just heard—
Jimin?
The guy with the audacity to ask him for a kiss, those pouty lips practically begging for it, swaggering like he owned every room he walked into?
The same guy who shamelessly flirts with Jungkook every night, right in front of Yoongi’s face?
That Jimin has never been kissed?
“You’re kidding, right?”
Hoseok’s grin only widens, mischief dancing in his eyes. “He just flirts and teases, but that’s about it. Trust me, our Jiminie’s been saving himself for the right one.”
Yoongi’s brain grinds to a halt, the idea of Jimin being a virgin—a complete virgin—is a concept he could never have been prepared for. “Wait, how do you know all this?”
“Ask him what fifth base is, and he’ll tell you there’s no such thing as fifth base in a baseball game. Might even give you an earful for asking stupid questions.”
“There isn’t, though, is there?”
Hoseok shoots him a look, as if to say, Please be serious right now.
“Fuck…” Yoongi breathes out, his thoughts swirling as though caught in a windstorm. Of course, it’s not about baseball! And if Jimin doesn’t know it… “Wait, you probably shouldn’t have told me this.”
Hoseok shrugs, leaning back against the couch like he hasn’t just spilled his cousin's secrets, laid his soul bare for Yoongi to feast on and claim. “If he’s asking you to teach him how to kiss, it’s just one of two things. He either wants to be perfect for when the right person comes along—which, let’s be real, sounds stupid. Or…”
“Or what?”
“Jiminie thinks you’re his right person, hyung.”
The weight of Hoseok’s words crackles in the air, sending electric shocks through Yoongi’s soul. His heart races at the thought, a wild mix of excitement and dread churning in his stomach, making him regret rejecting Jimin like that even more.
Because there’s nothing he wants more than to kiss Park Jimin.
But does he really want to be responsible for the guy’s first kiss?
What if he’s not the one Jimin’s been waiting for, after all?
Or worse, what if he is, and he completely fucks it up?
“So you’re absolutely sure he’s not screwing Jungkook’s brains out on my couch right now?”
Hoseok practically howls with laughter. “Jiminie’s as pure as a church kid at his first strip club. He probably still blushes at his own naked reflection. I wouldn’t stress over it, hyung.”
Yoongi leans back against the couch, the beer bottle cool against his palm, and takes a long swig, the alcohol soothing his nerves for the first time this entire week.
Yes, this is good enough for now…
***
But this is not good enough at all. Yoongi knows this now.
Because instead of just Jimin glancing and subtly flirting with his eyes from across the table, there’s now Jimin and Jungkook fooling around with each other like they’re in their own private universe, oblivious to the rest of the world.
The sight twists something hard in Yoongi's gut, something so much more painful than the usual sting, turning the bass-heavy beats of the club into an echoing thud of longing and frustration in his chest.
Jimin leans into Jungkook, laughter spilling from his lips, while Jungkook smirks, playful and teasing, fingers brushing against Jimin’s arm like a secret language that only they understand.
They look so connected, so intimate, that Yoongi starts to wonder if they might have done more than just kiss last night.
What the hell is Hoseok playing at anyway?
This doesn’t look like Park Jimin messing with him.
This looks like Park Jimin clearly being in love with someone else.
Doubt claws tight around Yoongi’s chest, squeezing harder the more he listens to the synchronized noises Jimin and Jungkook are creating together.
He’s drowning in it, barely holding on, trying to keep up with the chatter flying across the table.
Still, he manages to toss out some words of encouragement on Jin’s latest project, a compliment for Namjoon for a deal he’s just closed. He tells Taehyung to stop whining and maybe start looking into a job he actually really likes.
He even manages to say a genuine compliment about a new proposal Jimin and Jungkook are working on for their Marketing Team, before clinking glasses with Hoseok for the presentation they are also gonna be nailing next month.
Yoongi’s really just trying to stay grounded, trying to keep himself from bolting.
But then Jimin catches his eyes, holds them for just a little too long, and a flicker of warmth shoots straight through Yoongi, igniting something deep—much, much deeper—inside that he can’t possibly ignore.
Keeping him glued to his seat, keeping him here.
It’s like a beacon, reminding him of every single thing he loves about this guy.
Beyond the snarky, childish bickering that Yoongi’s somehow grown addicted to.
Beyond the rare, but oh-so-satisfying sensible conversations they fall into when they actually give themselves that chance.
Beyond the way Jimin always seems to be concerned for him, even when Yoongi’s too closed off to admit he needs it.
Beyond those sinfully ungodly lips—
A small, knowing smile tugs at Jimin’s lips before he glances away, his cheeks flushed. It’s hard to say if it’s the alcohol or something else. But hell, it doesn’t even matter.
Jimin’s body language is doing all the talking for the both of them.
He asks me. Me. Not Jungkook. Me…
Jimin’s been holding out for him.
And Yoongi’s starting to believe it.
***
Yet, when the opportunity finally presents itself.
When by some sly maneuvering of fate, with friends rising to dance or run to the restroom, the seats shift and shimmy until Yoongi and Jimin end up sitting beside each other—
When Jimin finally gets close enough for his warm, heady scent to hit Yoongi’s senses—a mild whiff of cologne mixed with a hint of sweat, the lingering edge of alcohol, and a trace of fabric softener from being pressed against Jungkook all night—
And the chaos of the club swirls all around them, a dizzying blend of bass and chatter, of bodies moving together, the air thick with laughter and shouts—
When everything starts swirling in a fever dream, making Yoongi’s heart race like the beat of a wild song—
And Jimin starts leaning into his space, face getting a little too close, looking a little too drunk, eyes bold and sparkling like starlight—
Yoongi’s world freezes for the slightest moment, before his mind explodes into a dozen panicked, Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!
Before he knows it, Yoongi has already laid a palm on Jimin’s chest, surprising everyone at the table, but most of all, himself.
The sudden quiet is suffocating.
Everything and everyone at their table seems to have been caught in a time trap, stuck on this one frame as the weight of his rejection hangs heavy in the air.
Hurt flashes in Jimin’s eyes, so deep, so raw he can’t even pretend to hide it now.
His heart thrashes wildly against Yoongi’s palm, making the sting in Yoongi’s own chest stab and dig deeper, enough to crack his very soul in half.
Jimin's broken chuckle cuts through the silence. “Ah, I knew it…”
And all Yoongi wants to do is scream, No, no, you don’t know shit! You idiot! You don’t know shit!
But before he can find the words to explain himself, Jimin is already grabbing his glass and raising it with a forced smile. “Let’s toast to the first and only guy Min Yoongi has ever rejected—me!”
He downs the shot in one gulp, before sending the glass sliding across the table to clink against the bottle, before grabbing his stuff and huffing, “I need air. I’ll see you around.”
And then he’s gone.
And he clearly does not intend to see anyone of them anytime soon.
Most especially Yoongi.
A moment of stunned silence stretches on before Jungkook hisses, “Hyung, what the fuck…”
Taehyung adds, “You’re unbelievably mean…”
He and Jungkook both start to stand up, ready to chase after Jimin, but Hoseok and Namjoon pull them back down. Yoongi feels a sharp kick under the table, Jin’s furious gaze silently urging him to move, no words needed.
“Alright, alright!” Yoongi mutters, adrenaline finally kicking in.
He’s been overthinking his heart into a standstill, seemingly favoring all other lips to the only pair he cares for the most in all the world.
That’s how stupid a man like Min Yoongi can be—
Why can’t he just kiss the guy? What’s the big deal?
Jimin obviously wants him. Wants Yoongi to be his first. And here he is, so blatantly, so stupidly refusing such a generous gift being offered right at his very feet.
But he can still make this right.
He just needs to find Jimin.
Then again, where the hell will he find Jimin in a crowd like this?
As if fate itself is showing him the way, a wave of cheers erupts from the dance floor, and before Yoongi can even think, his body’s already rushing there, navigating through the crowd, through bodies pulsing to the rhythms, some refusing to part for his sake.
But he makes it through.
Make it just in time to see Jimin, all wrapped up in the arms of some random guy, so tall Jimin’s practically on his toes, hanging like a ragdoll around his neck.
Just in time to watch the two of them lock lips in a kiss that rips through Yoongi’s soul.
His heart plunges like stone, crashing down to his feet, the sound of it echoing like glass shattering in his head.
And the jerk’s kissing Jimin back, egged on by the crowd, showing off even. Hands roaming where they absolutely don’t belong, teasing and claiming like they have some kind of right.
Yoongi’s vision starts to narrow into a furious splash of red, black, and blue.
And without thinking, he lunges forward, fingers wrapping around the guy’s collar like he might tear him apart with his bare hands, relishing the startled look on the admittedly handsome face, the collective gasp from the crowd.
The height difference means nothing to him. His arms are long enough, definitely strong and angry enough, to pull back and rearrange this bastard’s face.
But before he can land the first punch, Namjoon’s there to catch his fist, Hoseok and Jin pulling him away, while Taehyung and Jungkook are pushing the guy back.
And Jimin just curses under his breath, picks his coat and bag from the floor and stalks right off.
“JIMINAH!” Yoongi’s voice erupts, raw and fiery, grating at his throat in a way it’s never done before.
He’s never raised his voice at anyone.
Min Yoongi’s really been on a roll tonight to ruin his entire image to the one guy that matters.
He pulls away and bolts after Jimin, too blinded by rage and desperation to overthink his next move.
Somehow, weaving through the crowd, the vibrant lights flashing and the bass pulsing through his bones, Yoongi never loses sight of Jimin, despite Jimin trying his best to shake him off his trail.
They eventually burst through a grimy exit into a narrow back alley, where neon lights flicker and cast wild shadows dancing across the cracked walls.
“You idiot! Why would you do that?” Yoongi snaps, his voice low and fierce, breath ragged and eyes ablaze with rage that’s mostly directed at himself.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s just a kiss,” Jimin shrugs, refusing to meet Yoongi’s gaze, his voice wobbling just a little, looking barely bothered by Yoongi’s mood.
“It’s not just a kiss,” Yoongi quips, his voice losing its edge, knowing Jimin is only saying these words out of spite. “You asked me first…”
“It’s okay, hyung. I’m over it now. It means nothing.”
Jimin’s words hang heavy in the air, and Yoongi can sense the pain simmering beneath the layers of the guy’s fake bravado, realizing this is how much he has broken him.
He grabs Jimin’s face with both hands, his own tears pooling heavy at the back of his eyes, fueled by longing, regret and whiskey, thumbing those lips, as though hoping to erase traces of the other guy’s existence from it. “I’m sorry…”
A crease forms in Jimin’s brows, and Yoongi longs to kiss it away. “For what?”
“For saying no.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“You asked me first.”
Jimin's bitter smile morphs into a smirk as he finally meets Yoongi’s gaze, teary eyes already fluttering with exhaustion. “Get over it, hyung.”
Yoongi realizes then how much this is probably hurting him more than Jimin himself.
The thought of that first kiss, one moment within arm’s reach, the next moment gone in a heartbeat, gone for good.
And maybe it’s starting to dawn on Jimin then, too, because he’s suddenly bursting in tears and willingly melting into Yoongi’s embrace.
But maybe they’re overthinking it all again.
Just like how they’ve been overthinking everything, spinning around in circles, getting all tangled up in visions of what the relationship they’ve both obviously wanted to share should look and feel like.
Losing sight of the one thing—the only thing—that sparks and fuels a relationship that can last a lifetime.
Maybe things don’t really have to be a certain way for it to be considered first.
It just has to be real—
Yoongi pulls back just a little, his thumb brushing away the tears from Jimin’s cheeks before leaning in again. “May I?” he whispers, his breath hot and heavy, ghosting over Jimin’s lips.
Jimin nods, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but he leans in, craving the connection.
When their lips finally meet, it’s soft, a gentle collision packed with all the tenderness Yoongi has been saving up for the guy, too.
He keeps the kiss light and slow, just soft presses of lips, varying in angles and pressures, but never breaching through, letting it flood his chest with warmth as he savors every inch of Jimin and lets Jimin savor every inch of him back.
The guy’s a natural, which no longer surprises Yoongi. He’s always suspected it. Learning, repeating everything Yoongi does to a tee, equally eager to please at each turn.
It ignites a fire in the pit of Yoongi’s stomach.
And he literally has to fight hard not to take things too far, too soon.
He tilts his head to deepen the kiss, nudging Jimin’s bottom lip with his tongue, making the guy gasp into Yoongi’s mouth, thrilling and daring him to slip right in, get a little sweep of this warm, dainty mouth. Taste it a little, show Jimin how it’s done.
Jimin follows his lead, mimicking the way Yoongi’s mouth moves, the way his tongue flicks, experimenting with his own shifts, his own rhythms, growing more confident, more daring with each press, each moan, each sigh.
The alley has gone still, the distant bass of the club fading away as they lose themselves in this moment.
Yoongi pulls back again, fondly rubbing his thumbs over Jimin’s flushed cheeks. “You’re learning fast.”
And Jimin’s cheeks flush deeper, a shy smile breaking through. “I’m learning from the best.”
“You’ll be learning more than this.”
Jimin’s eyes spark with mischief, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he threads his fingers through Yoongi’s hair. “Teach me everything you know then, Teacher Min.”
“Hold on.” Yoongi pushes Jimin a little, his own eyes squinting with mock suspicion. “Aren’t you dating Jungkook?
Jimin wheezes, laughter racking his body. “Gosh, no! Hyung! He’s with Tae!”
“Then what the hell was that back there?”
“Tae’s idea... Well, everyone’s idea, actually. They said you needed a little nudge in the right direction.”
Yoongi’s expression shifts, softening as the pieces finally click together. “And that dude you were making out with?”
Jimin shrugs. “I just met him. Chan... Wonwoo-something? I don’t even know.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Yoongi leans in for a light peck. “He’s insignificant.”
A smirk tugs at the corner of Jimin’s mouth. “Oh, is that so?”
“Yeah.” Yoongi’s gaze sharpens, like what he’s about to say is the one undeniable truth Jimin needs to know. “You do realize your first kiss now belongs to me, right?”
“Uh…” Jimin teases, confused, but more than tickled.
“Your first real kiss…”
A full-blown smile instantly lights up Jimin’s face, as he finally catches on. “The one I’ll remember forever.”
“Isn’t that what matters, Mr. Park?”
Yoongi closes the distance again, capturing Jimin’s lips in a slow, lingering kiss, tender yet filled with promise.
And Jimin kisses him back. Just as tender, just as promising, committing his whole heart and soul—
“Yes, sir.”