Archive of Our Own

The beginning of Jimin’s worst mistake happens on a Friday morning, when he’s desperately trying to fit in with this group of very cool people.

“I swear” Heejin says. “He’s picky.”

Jimin smiles. He has no idea who or what they’re talking about.

“He dates girls and boys as well…” Jaehyun adds. “But he’s very picky with boys.” 

“Nah. I think he only says he’s bi so girls feel more at ease with him.” Junyeom says.

God, that sounds horrible.

“Who are you guys talking about?” Jimin asks.

“Oh yeah, right. Jimin, you're new” Jaehyun reminds him. Jimin smiles awkwardly.

Yup, he’s the new guy. The one who transfers at the end of sophomore year from another university. The new guy who used to study dance, now starting all over in music. That guy.

“There’s this dude from senior year. His name’s Min Yoongi” Sunmi tells him. “And he’s like… bisexual. Or that’s what he says.”

She starts looking for her phone to pull up a picture of said senior. 

He’s cute with his pink hair, Jimin’s notices. But he is not Jimin’s  type.

“But he’s never, ever been seen with a boy. He dates women, though.”

Jimin nods. Yeah, it’s not like bisexuality is a fifty-fifty deal.

“So there’s this rumor… that he’s just queerbaiting.”

Jimin frowns. “Who’s ever going to pretend to be queer in this country? Like, willingly? That makes no—” he shuts up.

Everybody is looking at him like he just said something weird. Jimin smiles.

Right. He has to fit in. He promised Taehyung he’d make friends. His last college —and all his school life too really— was lonely enough. He can’t let that happen here too.

“I mean… is he crazy or something? That’s awful of him” he says instead.

He’s not super into this whole gossip thing, but hey! to be fair, it is awful.

“That’s exactly our point!” Sunmi says while pointing at Junyeom. “So we have this challenge going on with Junyeom.”

Heejin rolls her eyes. 

Jimin looks confused. Sunmi laughs when she sees his face.

“We want to unmask him. Since he’s in his last year, we need to prove he’s not queer.”

Why do you guys care?

Jimin bites his tongue.

Yeah. Nope. Not the best thing to say, even though it’s the most logical. He wants friends. He wants to fit in. He has to try.

“Yeah, sounds cool.” he says, laughing. He hopes it doesn’t sound as fake as it feels. He hates all of this. 

But these people welcomed him on his first day, saw him wandering the halls, and just took him in. He needs to be grateful. He needs to try.

Junyeom loves his reaction. He throws an arm around Jimin’s shoulder.

“He’s really not bisexual” Junyeom says. “He only says it so women feel safe around him, and then he seduces them. The typical ‘he’s not like other guys’ trick and they all fall for it.”

Jimin raises his eyebrows in fake indignation.

Yeah, because that makes sooooo much fucking sense.

He shakes his head instead. “Awful.”

Jaehyun shrugs. “It’s just a rumor! It’s not like it’s a fact.”

Sunmi rolls her eyes. “It’s true. I know it.”

“How do you know?” Heejin asks. “I’m sure he dated a man in his first year”

“Do you guys remember Sooha?” Sunmi says. “She was a junior friend of mine” she adds for Jimin’s benefit. “She used to date him. And she told me once, while he was drunk, he said he’s not into guys. It’s all a lie.”

Jaehyun laughs. “Sooha is such a liar.”

Heejin agrees. “Yeah, she also said she was dating that guy from acting… what was his name?” A second of silence. “Lee Dongmin! She said she was dating him, and it turned out he had a girlfriend and exposed her for being a stalker.”

What the hell.

This college is full of drama. Oh my god.

His previous university was way quieter. Sure, there was gossip, but this? Maybe he just didn’t pay attention back then. Hard to say.

Jimin smiles again, and Junyeom removes his arm from around him. Jimin checks his phone. Twenty minutes until his next class, and then he can go home and avoid these people till Monday.

“Yeah, you’re right” Sunmi says with a weird tone. Sad, almost. Jimin frowns.

Is she sad because her friend’s a liar or because the rumor might not be true at all?

“He’s bisexual, I know. He's just picky!” Jaehyun insists.

“He’s queerbaiting, I’m sure!” Junyeom strongly disagrees.

“There’s no point if both sides have as a source: trust me, bro. We need real proof” Jibum says. 

Jimin blinks at him. He hasn't said a word since they arrived for lunch on campus, and Jimin even forgot he was here.

“Right, we need to find out and prove to you both that he’s actually bi. I swear you guys are the ones who came up with that queerbaiting rumor.” Heejin says. “Everybody when I started college was talking about how blunt he was about his sexuality, totally unafraid to date both boys and girls.”

Jimin takes a breath as inconspicuous as possible.

He has to try, he reminds himself.

He promised Taehyung. He makes a mental note to call him tonight and see how Paris is treating him.

Hopefully the time difference —and their life difference— will let them sync for a bit. He misses him.

But then, he realizes he’s missed something important because when he looks up, they’re all staring at him expectantly.

“Whaaat?” he says, trying to sound confused instead of I wasn’t listening to whatever bullshit you just said.

And Sunmi smiles, there’s something weird about it.  These five people keep staring at him, and then they share a look of complicity.

“Jimin, you’re perfect!”

Jimin is a bit confused but then, he just wink at her. “Thank you, sweetheart!”

He doesn’t feel particularly perfect or confident, but he’s trying to fake it until he makes it.

“Yeah, he won’t suspect!” Jaehyun agrees.

Then Junyeom stares at him very seriously, scanning him up and down. And Jimin gets this feeling that they’re talking in code. Maybe it’s an inside joke and he just doesn't get it yet. 

“Jimin, there’s this party tonight!” Heejin tells him excitedly.

“A party?” he repeats.

“Yes, Jimin, a party.” Junyeom says with a tired voice, like he’s frustrated with Jimin being dumb. It’s weird because even if his tone is off he’a still eyeing Jimin like he’s a math problem.

He seems a bit… concentrated, perhaps. Jimin frowns. Why is this dude suddenly analyzing him?

“So, you in? To the party?” 

“I have to do an extra shift after class” He tries to excuse himself.

“Good, then you come by after your shift” Sunmi concludes. “I’ll send you the address right away”

Jimin sighs as he watches her typing on her phone. Guess he’s coming.

“Yeah, see ya” that’s all Jimin says until he picks up his backpack and leaves.

He needs a break from these people, because they rub him the wrong way and he can’t even pinpoint why. Why exactly. Because this obsession with someone’s hookups or sexuality it’s weird.

But then again, Jimin is not the type to care about other people’s business. And if some people want to mind everybody’s business like it’s their job, he still does not care.

He sighs one again and wonders what is so wrong about him that he can only make friends by being someone he’s not. He has to pretend to care about stuff, to pretend to be more easygoing than he actually is so he won’t be alone. It’s weird. Maybe it's just college people that don't like how he is. Maybe everyone is just too woke or maybe he’s just really that annoying. 

Maybe one day he’ll meet someone who tells him the truth. What is so wrong with him.

But then he also thinks… that having people with some clearly red flags is not as bad a being alone in college. Being alone really sucks— it’s very demoralizing.

So he goes to his keyboard harmony class, the one that has him crying because he doesn’t get it as fast as he wants to. Then he goes to his shitty job, the one that overworks him a bit, the one that is what it is, and he smiles at customers, serves them, brings their food, charges them, and deals with drunk old men. Sometimes he washes the dishes —he shouldn’t, but of course his awful boss makes him do it— and Jimin desperately needs the money.

And when he’s out —obviously later than he was supposed to be— Jimin tries to get his money. And he really should’ve seen it coming. He doesn’t know why. Why is he so fucking stupid to actually believe his fuckass boss? 

He doesn’t pay him, of course he doesn’t, and tells him next week. It’s always next week.

The old man gives him a bunch of excuses and Jimin doesn’t even understand all of them... He doesn’t want to, either. He just listens to his usually loud voice, his screaming fake Daegu accent. He grabs his stuff and walks out. He doesn’t pay attention to the annoying voice yelling something about him being a rude brat.

Maybe he is.

He gets home. Takes a shower. And then his so, so handsome roommate named Seokjin smiles at him and says: “Hey! Hope you don’t mind… but Hoseokie needs to stay here for tonight.” Hoseok is his roommate’s boyfriend. “He was asked if he could cover the morning shift, and you know how he is”

Jimin doesn’t. But Seokjin is monologuing and Jimin doesn't have the heart to interrupt him.

“He always works afternoons and his place is far away from work. Between leaving at 11 p.m. and getting home, and then leaving again before 6 a.m. for the morning shift he’ll lose a lot of time…”

Jimin might cry. Really. Hoseok is a nice guy, he’s a dancer too and he was the only dancer who didn’t judge Jimin for switching careers or at least not out loud. And Seokjin is so nice to him, he always left him food that he “couldn’t finish” but it was just the elder making more for him just like tonight. And they are adorable, but they fuck way too much and Jimin don’t know if he wants to listen to them. 

And yes, they always try to be quiet, but it never works and Jimin is suffering from insomnia lately, so he knows he’d be awake. And he'll listen to them.

And what’s worse? Being unable to sleep listening to them have sex or just going to a party, getting too drunk off free alcohol, and coming back to die —crash so hard he forgets his own name?

Yeah, we all would take the latter. 

So, he just stares at Jin and then nods. “It’s okay, hyung. I have a party tonight”

“Jimin! That’s good to hear! Have fun. Do you need a shirt or anything? I’ll give you something of mine if you need it!”

Jimin knows he is miserable, he feels it lately. He’s in a bad mood. He’s grumpy. He’s sad. He's crying inside and he just wants to scream, and run away. Take a plane and leave everything behind or maybe just curl up and die. 

But he’s here, at the fucking party. He can try to make some new friends and maybe have different groups of friends and he knows he’s greedy but it doesn’t hurt to dream. To try. He’s always dreaming, he’s always trying. 

He hasn’t seen Junyeom or anyone from the group, and he’s kind of thankful for that. 

He takes a shot of tequila and smiles. He jumps to the rhythm of the mainstream songs that are playing and dreams a bit more about making something like that one day. 

He’s trying to wash away the bitter feeling in his throat, kick the sad mood away from his mind, the low self esteem out of his body. 

He dances a little with a handsome guy, all smiles and drunken dance moves. It makes him laugh. He feels good. 

Another tequila shot and he feels even better. The man he’s dancing with is named Jackson, and funny enough, he’s the one who organized the party.

Jimin laughs when he jokes about never ever seeing Jimin in his life before but damn he’s glad he snuck in. Like Jimin didn’t belong here, like Jimin has to make his way in here. 

And this Jackson guy doesn’t know it, but it’s not a joke: it's Jimin’s reality. Jimin sneaks in, he came in without an official invitation but has to stay. He has to try. He wants to make music more than he enjoys moving his body to beats, so he has to try.

“But you fit so well in this!” Jackson tells him. 

And Jimin kisses him. A playful kiss and Jackson laughs, kisses him back just as playfully. Jimin kisses him just to show his thankfulness. Not the best way, speaking frankly, but it is the only way Jimin knows.

But everything good that happens to Jimin always ends too quickly, too fast, too rude to Jimin’s liking. And Jackson's friends take him to show him something really cool, man! Jackson is drunk and Jimin knows. 

Jimin knows that what’s even worse than things ending too fast is that Jimin always accepts it quickly too. He rarely fights. He doesn’t really think he deserves most of the good things  —Even though he spends days and nights daydreaming about good things happening to him. 

He guesses he’s daydreaming about it because it’s safe: it is a consolation. He yearns for stability and forever happy endings because he knows such a thing doesn’t exist.

He finds Sunmi a moment later or well… they find him. and Jimin thinks he's ready to take it all. To bear them. And then he takes a glass of water when he realizes he’s bearing them rather than fitting with them. 

Junyeom put his arm around Jimin, and Jimin smirks. 

“Feeling touchy today, uh?” He says. He has noticed that Junyeom likes to put his arm around him and Jimin is not sure if he likes it. 

Junyeom stares at him, probably displeased about Jimin's honesty. Nobody likes Jimin when he's honest. “Feeling confident?” Ask him back.

Jimin smiles and holds his gaze, his gesture full of boldness that he does not have. “Always.”

Is a silent moment and Heejin laughs and interrupts them. She’s drunk already. Jimin envidies her a bit, he wants to be drunk too but it’s not a good idea to be drunk this early with these people. The water sober him up a bit.

“Wah, Jimin!” Heejin calls him. “Confidence suits you well. You look so hot!” 

Jimin laughs and then he wink at Junyeom getting his arm off him. 

Jaehyun looks at Jimin with a smirk on his face as handing him a beer. Jimin tries to not think much about it. 

“I didn't know you were this confident” Jumyeon doesn’t seem to let the awkwardness go. Jimin takes the sip.

“Well, that's the key to everything” 

They laugh and Jimin thinks they might let it go. 

They share the same complacent look from earlier, except this time for Heejin, who’s too busy smiling and getting close to him. 

“You know… brown hair is such a common hair color but, why does it look so good on you?” Heejin flirts. Jimin can’t help but laugh. He guesses Seokjin’s jackets did the trick. His brown hair is definitely not special but maybe the makeup, the confidence and the gradual lack of patience may be.

He can barely catch Heejin when he trips over his own foot trying to get closer to him. It starts to upset him terribly the way they keep trying to touch him even when they just brushed off a moment of awkwardness for the very same thing a few seconds ago. 

Jimin bites his tongue and when he looks up he catches Sunmi putting his phone away. “Girl, what happened to you in a second of distraction?” Sunmi asks her mockinling. “Are you okay?”

Sunmi approaches Heejin. She grabs her face and laughs. “Oh, so this is the Jimin effect on people?” Heejin's face is so flushed. Jimin can't smile this time, he is trying to shake his discontent away.

“Jimin effect!” Jaehyun repeats entertainment. “ Is it a thing?”

Jimin doesn't look at him. It’s not.

“I bet it is” Jibum suddenly intervenes. Jimin keeps forgetting about him.

“Oh, I'm sure” Sunmi agrees.

And Jimin should have noticed right here and there when everything was going on. But he didn't. Instead, he takes a sip of his beer.

“Maybe” That’s all he says, he’s irritate.

What is what hes trying so hard to do? To prove?

“You know what. Let’s find out.” Jaehyun says. “Jimin, I bet you can take Min Yoongi on a date. You’re that charming for his picky style”

“I bet he can’t. Yoongi’s not into men” Junyeom says.

“I agree.” Sunmi says, look at him with a mischievous smile. “But if he was, you could have!”

“What?”

Jimin asks so dumbfuly. He doesn't even get how the conversation went back to the so-called Min Yoongi.

“I think he can find out!” Jibum looks amusing. “Everybody who likes men, has to like Jimin. I mean, look at him! He's gorgeous!"

“Jimin, what do you think? I bet you can’t!” Junyeom's smile is so tight. Just like Jimin, he pretends to like him.

“Guys, again, what?” He’s so slow because… what the hell? 

“Yes, Jimin, I support you!” Heejin says, still red and dragging the words. “I bet you can date him! and prove me right”

Jimin stares at them with an expression that clearly says: are you all dumb or it’s me who's the dumb one? 

“But why would I do that?”

“Oh, come on, Jimin! Aren’t you gay?”

He’s bisexual too, but honestly, correcting them feels pointless. And again, what the hell?!

“Yeah, I am. But like… what about it?”

“So you can find out the truth about Min Yoongi!”

And why the actual fuck should I care if Min Yoongi is fooling everyone or not?

Jimin laughs. Full-body, shaking laugh.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Come on, Jimin, relax a little! It’s just a bet!” Jaehyun insists.

“But what is in it for me?”

“Well… finding out the truth?” Sunmi says, like that’s a prize. Jimin laughs again.

“It’s a very funny, cool little plan, but I don’t think I’m the right guy for this. I’m the new guy and he’s a senior.” He tries to explain as easy as possible. “If he finds out, he could totally get mad or even sabotage me in the future or something. I don’t think I can gain anything from this.”

“Oh my god, Jimin, you’re so dramatic!” Jibum whines. “Just try to ask him out, flirt a little! If he flirts back, then he’s gay. You know, he’s hot as hell!”

“And? it’s also a lot of work to just talk to a men” he says, trying to keep the peace. 

“Guys, please! it’s obvious Jimin doesn't think he has a chance” Junyeom mocks him. “He’s not that confidence after all”

Jimin blinks.

“Oh I have a chance, darling” He says confidently. “But why would I?”

Junyeom looks at him. “You can’t.”

Jimin knows he’s being stupid, that even if he takes a couple of shots it’s not really the alcohol that makes him soooo dumb-head irritated . 

It's this dude. Looking at him, judging him, mocking him. The fact he knows Jimin is a impostor, someone who doesn’t belong here, who is fake… even when Jimin’s trying so hard to blend. Ignoring all of his hard work. 

“Like I said” his voice is cold. “ I can. But what is in it for me? If I’m gonna do this, might as well get something out of it.”

Oh god. Why did he say that?

Jimin takes a deep breath.

He really, really shouldn’t—

“It’s just a bet, guys! No big deal.” Jaehyun's voice falters. Probably he feels scared about the atmosphere becoming so heavy. 

“Who’s ever died from flirting?” Junyeom says, like he’s just said something wise. But his eyes have something completely different. “It’s just a bet. It’s not a big deal. But I know you can’t”

“But what do I gain?” leans toward them, a slightly smug gesture. “Give me something that make me work hard for, it’s only fair.”

It’s not. Is a stupid thing. 

“You know, there's a week at the end of the year called terror week! Because it is really terrifyind. All the teachers and TAs in the music department make this week incredibly impossible for the freshman” Junyeom starts to explain and Jimin thinks he's heard something about it out there but isn't sure what it is.

“So they know how it's gonna be in the industry. If they can pull it up, and do well, when you graduate they give you recommendations. Some even put you direct to their contacts in the industry”

Junyeom's face is tense. “It’s absolutely terrible and most of us couldn’t pass. We survived but didn’t pass most of the exams and projects… I didn’t” he admits. “If you can take Min to a date and prove me he’s bi, i’ll help you with some projects and you’ll pass”

Jimin's eyes widening. Wow, that’s fucking lot for a bet.

All the guys thinks the same because they let out a “Woooow, that’s a lot!” 

“You…” Jimin's voice is low. “Do all that for a bet?”

He should have known too that there was something deeper than a bet. 

“Yeah, sure!” Junyeom is back to the casual tone. “If you win, of course”

Sunmi and Jaehyun laughs. “Fuck, Jimin! this shit it’s too good!”

“Wait, can I participate too?” Jibum says. “Do all my homework”

Heejin laughs too loud, she’s somehow found herself another drink. 

“What do you mean by proving to you he’s bi?” He says, he’s mind is running wild. 

“Well, isn’t just going ask him on a date proof enough?” Jaehyun mids in. 

“Yeah, I think so too” Jibum agrees.

Then they all turn to him. 

Jimin shallow hard.

“It’s just a dare, Jimin. Nobody’s died from that.” Sunmi insists.

People haven’t died from dating. They’ve been killed for it. He knows that.

And yet..

“It’s not a big deal!”

“Yeah, right!”

“Whatever” He gives in. They’re not right. “It’s not a big deal.” It is. “It’s a stupid bet. I’ll do it”

And all those words condemn him. 

His eyes lock in Junyeom who stares back at him.

“Deal.”

“Yeah, deal.”

🖤

Twenty minutes later, Jimin understands how fucking idiot he is. Jesus fucking christ. What was he even thinking? He wasn't thinking at all. 

He takes a breath and decides he needs another beer, another tequila shot, another dorsal spine to grow and stops him. 

The worst part of everything is that the so-called Min Yoongi is at this fucking party too. He’s here and Jimin just accepted a bet that he can ask him out and not get rejected. And he has to do it tonight.

Fuck his life. Fuck his brain. Fuck his decisions.

Jimin basically swallows the whole tequila shot and pours himself another. He’s bought himself a little time. Right after the bet thing, he ran to the bathroom, and now he’s back in the kitchen, looking for his guts.

His guts in the form of a tequila shot.

Are his guts strong enough to back out and be a total loser? Or cowardly enough to keep spinning in this stupid circus?

He’s done three tequila shots so far, and he knows he has to stop. If he gets too drunk, he’ll get sleepy. He’s that type of drunk.

He breathes in again. Nods to himself.

He’s got this. Sure.

Yeah, sure. It’s harmless, right? And maybe this Yoongi guy will reject him. Honestly, he’s not that good-looking. He’s pretty —he knows— but there’s this whole thing about people preferring bigger, broader guys. Maybe he’s not Min Yoongi’s type.

God, let him be picky. The pickiest bitch alive. Yoongi, can you please be into giant, tall, stupidly muscular men? The exact opposite of Jimin?

His phone buzzes. It’s a message in the group chat with Sunmi and the others. It says Min Yoongi is out on the balcony and alone— Jimin should go now, take the chance.

He should.  

He glances at the tequila bottle, pours himself one more shot—just half this time—and takes it.

He can do this.

He leaves the kitchen and walks toward the balcony. But when he gets there, it’s empty. There’s no pale pink boy. Just a small wooden table covered with sodas and three plastic benches.

There’s no one. And suddenly, he doesn’t know what to do. Should he look for this boy? Or is this the universe telling him to go home?

“Oh.”

A voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he turns around.

There he is: the guy with pink hair and the most Pinterest-coded outfit in the universe. Red plaid shirt and everything.

Jimin swallows hard.

“Hey there” he dares to say.

Min Yoongi is looking at him with serious eyes. In one hand, he holds a bottle of white rum. In the other, a bunch of plastic cups.

He’s pretty.

He has cat-like eyes, a soft, round nose, and lips the exact shade of his hair. He’s small too, not very tall, probably skinnier than Jimin. But something about his presence feels intense, making him slightly intimidating. Maybe it’s Jimin’s anxiety or the way Yoongi clenches his jaw when he looks at him.

They lock eyes and don’t look away.

“Hey” Min Yoongi says back, stepping onto the balcony.

Jimin stares, paralyzed. How fucking stupid is he? Ask out a random guy? It’s their first time seeing each other. Yoongi doesn’t even seem like the talkative type.

Isn't Jimin just making more fun of himself? 

He laughs —quietly, bitterly— when he realizes: he doesn’t even need people to mock him. He does it to himself.

The boy, Min Yoongi, gives him a side-eye, then pours two cups of rum and tops them off with Sprite.

Jimin is about to go out and run away. Never come back to this stupid college, board a plane to leave the country or a train to Busan. And if he’s lucky enough, a zombie will kill him. He's free meat, he won't fight. 

But then Yoongi offers him a cup.

He says nothing. Just raises the cup in his direction.

Jimin looks at the drink, then at the pink boy.

“We all need a break from people” Yoongi says. “I mean… parties are nice, but they can be a lot. Sometimes you just need a little moment of peace, and then you’re good to go. Uhm?”

His voice is deep. Jimin notices that. He has a soft face but a low voice.

He must have been staring too long, because Yoongi makes a small gesture, stretching his lips out a bit and tipping his chin and his hand offering the cup again.

Jimin takes it and looks down.

“Yeah, you’re right...” he answers.

Yoongi watches him for a second, then sits comfortably on one of the benches. The music from inside is muffled, just a distant thump through the walls, and the wind out here is sharper than it should be.

Jimin stares into his drink before taking a small sip. Just a moment of peace —that’s what Yoongi said. He's trying. 

It’s a cheap version of a mojito, sure, but he likes it. He takes another sip, slowly. He knows he’s focusing too hard on the taste to distract from the pit in his stomach.

The pink boy seems like a decent guy. Which just makes Jimin feel worse.

Another sip.

“Wah, you planning on passing out?”

Jimin smiles, glancing at Yoongi. “Sounds kinda fun.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “That’s not smart. You seem like a smart guy.”

“Do I?”

Yoongi nods.

Jimin gives a crooked smile. “I don’t think I am.”

Yoongi takes a sip from his own drink, head tilting slightly. “You are. You just wish you weren’t.”

It’s such a simple thing to say. Anyone with common sense could’ve said it. Jimin’s not dumb, but maybe… if he were, he’d be happier?

“There’s joy in ignorance” Yoongi mutters.

Jimin runs a hand through his hair and nods. “There is.”

A quiet pause, then Yoongi smiles — it’s a soft smile. He is really kind.

“C’mon, sit down for a bit. You must be tired of standing all the time.”

And very insightful. And he’s right. Jimin is tired: of standing, of trying, of running.

So he sits beside him and takes another sip.

Yoongi giggles, and god, it’s cute.

“What’s your name?”

“Jimin”

Yoongi nods, then leans in slightly. “Alright, Jimin. So… why are you trying to get drunk?”

Because I told someone I’d do something dumb… and now I regret it.

“My roommate's boyfriend is staying tonight.”

“…And?”

“I don’t want to hear them fuck”  Jimin says, meeting Yoongi’s eyes dead-on.

Yoongi laughs, like full-on laughs. His cheeks and ears turn a bit pink. And then he smirks.

“That’s valid” he says, grinning. “But something tells me that’s not the whole reason.” He’s smirking now.

And Jimin looks at him—really looks.

He’s pretty. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the soft lights, or maybe it’s just Yoongi. But he’s really pretty. That smirk of his makes him look unfairly attractive, the pale skin glows under the balcony lights, and his eyes —they’re really something. Deep, sharp, warm. Dangerous. There’s something about Yoongi that makes him feel seen. Yoongi sees right through him.

“Why do you wanna know, Yoongi sunbae?”

Yoongi raises a brow, impressed. “You know my name.”

Jimin sips from his drink, realizing the alcohol is finally kicking in. Everything’s just a little too soft around the edges, and the only thing sharp is Yoongi’s gaze.

“You’re quite famous around here” he says.

Yoongi smirks. “You’ve heard about me, huh?”

“Is there anyone in the music department who hasn’t?” Jimin fires back, playful now.

The pink boy looks amused. “I hope it’s only good things.”

Jimin can’t help but laugh, and then Yoongi laughs with him too.

They’re laughing at completely different things. Jimin laughs because Yoongi sounded so hopeful and that’s so cute but mostly because nobody has said the first nice thing about Yoongi. And he’s exhausted and it’s the first honest moment he’s had all day.  

“Why are you laughing?!”  Jimin asks, still giggling.

“Because you’re laughing!” 

“But I’m laughing because you said something funny, but you’re laughing at me” Jimins is giggling.

“No-Uh.” Yoongi defends, voice pitching higher. “I said something about me and then you started laughing, and then I laughed because you’re we’re laughing!”

Jimin doesn’t understand a word coming out of Yoongi's mouth but it’s so stupid he can’t stop laughing. It’s the kind of laughter that sits in your chest like relief. He keeps giggling until he can’t see anymore.

“Even now, You’re shamelessly laughing at me!” Yoongi exclaims.

Jimin doubles over, hand on his stomach. Is not even funny, but since he’s just had an awfully fucking day and finally he sees something bright and honest.

“Stop—stop!” he wheezes. “If I hear the word ‘laugh’ one more time, my brain’s gonna shut off.”

Yoongi grins at him, fond. “I thought you said you weren’t smart?”

“Not being smart doesn’t mean your brain doesn’t work.”

“No, actually,  that’s exactly what it means.”

“It doesn’t!”

“It does!”

“It doesn’t!”

Jimin stares at Yoongi. He’s shining bright. Maybe too much for someone like him. But Yoongi’s warm, and kind, and funny and Jimin craves that more than anything. Just one moment where he feels real. Honest. Like he’s truth to himself.

Their laughter quiets. They sip their drinks.

“So...” Yoongi says, circling back “did you hear mean things about me?”

“I heard ridiculous things about you.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

Jimin tilts his head, slow and deliberate, lips tugging into a half-smile. “I don’t know if I should say.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Why not?”

“They might change your whole self-image,” Jimin hums, tapping the rim of his cup. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that confident streak you’ve got going.”

Yoongi snorts. “Please. Try me. I can take it.”

Jimin knows he shouldn't do this. He’s being unfair. He’s not doing how it should be, like any other person would. He’s being a little shady. 

But tonight feels like something he wants to remember, something soft to tuck away when everything else hurts. It doesn’t hurt a fly, they’ll still be strangers after this —and that’s probably for the best.

But Yoongi feels like a spark Jimin doesn’t want to let go of just yet. Jimin will keep the memory of this night in his chest, he will remember that there is still hope in the world for him. There are still good people in the world. No one will get hurt: he will disappear from Yoongi's life.

So he leans in a little. Yoongi’s really damn pretty: The kind of beauty that makes you forget what you thought was your type when you see him. He is like a reminder to Jimin that what the mind believes is often different from reality. A natural charm that overcomes any limits and prejudices.

“I’ll tell you...” Jimin says, bold now “if you meet me for coffee.”

Yoongi’s lips curl into a slow, surprised grin. His eyes light up with interest. “I thought I would be the one to ask you”

Jimin shrugs, coy. “You still can. Might boost your ego.”

Yoongi gives him a look that should be illegal, eyes narrowing just slightly, a smirk that borders on dangerous. “I like bold boys.”

Jimin giggles softly, then looks away, pretending to study the stars even though the sky is empty and he’s just trying not to combust. His cheeks feel hot, and he wonders if Yoongi can tell.

“By the way, how old are you?”

“I’m twenty.”

Yoongi nods, pleased.

“Good. I’m twenty-two. You can call me hyung.”

“Alright, hyung.”

Jimin lets that warmth wrap around him, quieting the voice in the back of his mind and with the way they keep drinking and teasing, the silence sticks, but it’s not awkward. It’s thick. It hums with all the things they’re not saying, all the things they’re trying not to want.

And all Jimin allows himself now is to get lost in the bright, real pink boy in front of him.

Eventually, they leave the balcony, and Jimin thinks he sees Heejin and Jaehyun smirking as he walks out of the house with Yoongi. He’s not sure, he might have imagined it. He’s too drunk.

🖤

They’re walking slowly, half-drifting down the street like they forgot how sidewalks work. Yoongi’s place isn’t far, but with how many times Jimin has stumbled, it might as well be across the country.

“Hyuuuung” Jimin slurs, dragging the word out dramatically. “You walk like you own the street.”

“I do.” Yoongi replies, smug as hell. “You’re on my sidewalk right now.”

Jimin giggles. “Wah… and here I was, just a humble pedestrian.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, shaking his head, but he’s smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You are even more!” Then Jimin mumbles, a little more quiet now: “But you’re still walking me to your home.”

Yoongi glances at him. His steps slow just a little. “You’re not that ridiculous.”

Jimin hums, eyes soft as they glance at each other in the low streetlight glow. “Hyung” he says again, sweeter this time. “You always this nice to drunk boys you just met?”

Yoongi snorts. “Only the ones who flirt with me on balconies.”

“Bold of you to assume I was flirting.” Jimin smirks.

“You literally asked me out.”

“Hmm. Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d say yes.”

Yoongi stops walking. Turns to him, one brow raised. “Is that so?”

Jimin stops too, swaying just a little. He blinks, trying to look smug, but the alcohol has definitely taken over. He just ends up smiling instead.

“You’re cute when you’re cocky” Yoongi says.

“And you’re cute when you think I’m not serious” Jimin fires back, only a little delayed.

They stare for a second. Drunk, dizzy, a little breathless. Then Yoongi chuckles and starts walking again.

“C’mon, Drunk boy. My place has water and a couch. You can flirt with me again in the morning.”

Jimin grins as he follows. “So you are saying yes to the date.”

Yoongi doesn’t look back, but he lifts a hand, waves him forward.

“I didn’t say no.”

Drunk Jimin doesn’t tell Yoongi the truth. But after tasting that warm, kind smile, he decides: he can be alone at uni, but he can’t go back to Junyeom and the others. He can’t return to their crooked smiles, heavy silences and shady intentions.

Unfortunately, that clarity in his thoughts comes too late and leaves too early. The damage is already done, his remaining silence turns out to have sharp teeth.

None of them remembers this walk the next morning.

🖤 

Saturday morning, Jimin wakes up in a bed that isn’t his, with blurry memories swirling in his head about how he ended up there. He knows nothing happened because his clothes are still on, and Seokjin’s leather jacket is crumpled in the corner of the bed. The hangover hits him like a truck. He groans, rubbing his eyes as his stomach churns.

His gaze scans the unfamiliar room: white walls, sleek black furniture, clothes tossed over a chair, messy shoes, a computer setup with a small keyboard and speakers all lined up neatly. Then he sees a blue plaid shirt, and the yellow sheets wrapped around him.

Oh shit. Right.

He gets up faster than he should’ve, and his head immediately punishes him for it. He curses under his breath, grabs his jacket and throws it on, ready to flee.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

What the hell did he do?

He tiptoes out of the room and finds himself in the living room, where Min Yoongi is passed out on the couch.

Oh, Dear God.

Panic creeps in like a cold wave. His chest tightens, his head spins, and nausea punches him straight in the gut. What the fuck has he done?

Jimin tries to move quietly, Yoongi’s soft snores filling the room like background music. He feels disgusting. He can’t believe he agreed to such a stupid bet and with someone as nice as Yoongi. He’s such a fucking idiot.

He reaches the door, but memories from the night before hit him like flashes, the pink hair, that soft smile, then the smirk, the deep voice, sharp eyes that somehow turned gentle when they landed on him. That flirty tension, that dangerous warmth that felt like a high. The way Yoongi laughed.

Jimin bites his lip, guilt crawling up his throat.

He pauses, glancing back at the boy now asleep on the small black sofa, mouth slightly open, looking oddly peaceful. Almost cute.

But leaving without a word would be incredibly rude. Especially after Yoongi had offered his place when Jimin got all weepy about not wanting to listen to his roommate having a good time. He was reckless to accept an invitation from a stranger he just met. He clearly loses all good judgment around this guy.

He turns back, sneaks into the bedroom again, looking for paper and a pen. He spots a black notebook, flips it open: lyrics and compositions stare back at him, and he quickly shuts it.

Nope. Too invasive. He’s already crossed enough lines.

But there’s no other notebook in sight, and digging through drawers feels even worse. So he reopens the black one, flips to the middle and sees blank pages, thank god, and tears a small piece out. He finds a pen —he doesn’t even know why but Yoongi owning a fancy-ass pen it’s so him— and writes quickly:

Hey, Yoongi sunbae-nim. Sorry for the trouble. It must’ve been weird bringing a stranger home. Thank you for everything, I’m really embarrassed. I took this page from the black notebook but I swear I didn’t read anything!! Goodbye.

He chews on his lip, staring at the note… it’s the right thing to do. He places it on the pillow, hesitates for a beat, then finally walks out. He pulls the door shut carefully behind him, flinching slightly when he hears Yoongi let out an impressively loud snore.

There’s some joy in ignorance, Yoongi had said.

No need to say anything if they’re never going to talk to each other again.

🖤

Jimin has successfully avoided Junyeom and the others. Not that they made it hard for him: he figures everyone realized just how ridiculous the whole thing was. Perhaps everyone regained consciousness, somehow.

Either way, after spending the entire weekend drowning in guilt and self-hatred, he decided he wouldn’t be able to face them. Not after what he did. Especially not after realizing how kind Yoongi really was.

He doesn’t blame the others for what happened. Jimin knows it was his ego, his pride, his stupid decision that made him accept that stupid bet. He was the shady one. But he doesn't like the way he acts around them either —It's nobody's fault but Jimin's how he acted that day, but something about that heavy, uncomfortable energy surrounding them makes him want to run.—  Maybe it’s because he got a taste of what warmth actually feels like. 

Yoongi kind of ruined him for everything else.

Of course, he also made it a point to avoid a certain pink boy. Jimin wasn't sure if their paths had crossed before under his ignorance but he didn't want to find out.  The guy probably already forgot about Jimin anyway.

It was just a little flirting. No big deal. 

That’s what he keeps telling himself.

The rest of the week plays out as usual. He’s still not good enough at harmonic keyboard class, and his boss still sucks. He got paid, not the full amount, but paid.

His streak of luck ends on a completely normal day when he had made sure the third-year students weren’t using the music room on the first floor of the faculty building.

Jimin’s desperately trying to write this song off his brain. A melody, lyrics, rhythm, harmony, all his work. He’s sitting with his electric guitar, trying to put something together. His phone is recording the session, and in front of him is a yellow notebook —the same yellow as Yoongi’s bedsheets.

He’s painfully aware of this new habit he’s picked up: associating random things in his daily life with the pink boy. 

Bad. Very bad.

It’s probably just a silly little crush on someone who was too kind to him, the alcohol making him remember the night with more fondness than he should. Pathetic, really. Like a stray kitty latching on to anyone who gives it a little love. 

He keeps strumming, trying to lock down the melody. He’s so close.

“Oh, I think that’s it” he mutters, reaching to play back the recording.

And then he hears it and it's a mess of mistakes. His eyebrows knit in disbelief and… Did he really play something that bad? So many things need fixing, everything could be better. But no matter how many times he tries, his hands can’t seem to make it work.

Surely anyone else could fix this so easily.

He laughs, frustrated, dragging his hands down his face.

“I should just give up...” he murmurs, sighing as he peels his hands away.

“You just need to fix the timing but it’s actually really good” says a familiar voice. Too familiar.

Jimin turns around, startled.

No. No way.

The pink boy is standing there, watching him. With a new pinterest-ready outfit: denim jacket, jeans.

Jimin’s heart starts pounding. His eyes don't want to believe who they’re seeing.

“Hey, drunk boy... You’re pretty talented.” Yoongi teases, flashing a smug smile.

“Yoongi...”

“It’s Hyung, for you.” he says, walking over to sit beside him like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

Jimin’s eyes follow him, wide and confused.

Yoongi smirks. Clearly entertained.

“You’re adorable” he says with a soft chuckle.

Jimin blinks, looking away quickly. Silence fills the room, thick and charged. Yoongi’s presence is almost dangerous.

“It’s Jimin...” he finally says, voice small.

Yoongi laughs. “I know. But I’m missing your last name.”

You shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t be seeing each other again. Please… let this stay as just one night at a party. Just another forgettable face in the background of your life.

The guilt claws its way back into Jimin’s chest, threatening to devour him whole. He knows he needs to tell him. He has to. Yoongi deserves to know the truth, so he can be properly disgusted by Jimin.

Yoongi hums thoughtfully beside him, pulling him out of the spiral. Jimin clutches the guitar to his chest like a shield —maybe from himself, maybe from Yoongi's feline eyes that make his fingers itchy to give him whatever he asks for.

“Why do you want to know?” he pouts, shrinking a little, wishing he could disappear entirely from Yoongi’s view.

Yoongi’s laugh is just as melodic as Jimin remembers.

“I like knowing the last names of boys I bring to bed” he says nonchalantly.

Jimin gasps, scandalized. “Don’t say it like that! We didn’t do anything.”

“So, you’re only flirty when you’re drunk, huh?”

Their eyes meet. Jimin swallows hard and quickly looks away.

It’s only when I’m drunk that I have the guts.

He feels Yoongi’s eyes on him: heavy, amused, curious.

“...It’s Park. Park Jimin,” he whispers, eyes locked on the guitar, searching for strength in the strings.

It’s strange, because Jimin’s always performing, always trying to be everything he’s not, always hiding what he really thinks. But he can’t seem to do that with Yoongi.

It’s so strange. Jesus Christ, they’ve barely known each other a night. Why can’t he pretend around Yoongi?

He can’t even say he was honest that night because even if every laugh and every thought had been genuine —he never mentioned the real reason he ended up on that balcony in the first place.

“You’re way shyer without alcohol” Yoongi notes.

Jimin bites his lip. “I’m not.”

“So you’re still embarrassed.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement.

The younger one gives a weak smile.

Yeah. He is embarrassed. So embarrassed. Because when his ego won that day. It was his insecurity, his desperate hunger for approval that had taken the reins. His ego wanted to beat Junyeom, wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face more than reason told him not to.

He looks at Yoongi, the truth sitting heavy on his tongue, wanting to spill it and make the guy hate him. But he stops when he sees Yoongi’s eyes, those soft, cat-like eyes, look at him with interest. Like he’s just waiting for Jimin to throw it all up, so he can catch it and comfort him.

And Jimin can’t do that. 

He can’t let Yoongi try to console him for being actual garbage. So he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind: “Alcohol makes me more friendly than I actually am.”

Yoongi raises a sharp eyebrow. The gesture somehow makes him even more attractive.

Fuck, and Jimin doesn’t even usually go for this type —He likes guys a little more muscular, a little less pale— but this pink boy seems determined to reset all his preferences and make himself the new standard.

Jimin runs a hand through his brown hair. “I’m not usually that… friendly” he says again, carefully. If he doesn't have the courage to tell him, maybe he should use the fact that he —physically and mentally — can't hide much from Yoongi to his advantage. 

Maybe if he just shows his real self, Yoongi will walk away like everyone else does.

Now it’s Yoongi who leans in just a bit too close and his bright, pretty eyes scanning Jimin’s face. Jimin is almost certain that Yoongi is doing it on purpose, but the young man can't concentrate on anything else but trying not to go insane when Yoongi slowly lowers his gaze to Jimin's lips and stares at them for a few seconds before returning to his eyes.

“I like that” Yoongi says finally, voice low and deep.

Jimin’s heart lurches again and he clenches his fists to keep them from shaking. “You probably don’t.”

That wicked smile spreads across Yoongi’s face again, and for a second Jimin feels like he’d give anything to get lost in it.

“I think I do.”

The older boy stretches out his arm, and Jimin sucks in a breath but instead of placing his hand on Jimin’s chest like he expected, Yoongi rests it gently on Jimin’s guitar. Suddenly Jimin becomes aware that the smell of Yoongi's perfume hits him hard. It is masculine and strong but not overpowering. Somehow smooth. Just like Yoongi.

Jimin bites his lip again, scolding himself for the disappointment he feels. What the hell is this feeling? He barely even knows this guy.

“How about showing your sunbae what you were playing?” Yoongi says, teasing again with that same smirk.

Oh, he’s doing it on purpose. Fucking with Jimin’s mind.

Jimin bites the inside of his cheek but decides to play the game back. He moves slowly to straighten up which inevitably makes him get too close to Yoongi, who, of course, wipes off his evil grin and swallows.

Jimin licks his lips fighting the smugness creeping in. This time, Yoongi’s the one who looks  away.

The younger boy lets a quiet, satisfied smile slip out.

“Well, sunbae … I’ve been working on this.” Yoongi snorts through his nose because of Jimin’s tone. It amuses him, but not enough to laugh out loud.

Jimin starts playing again, same melody as before. From the corner of his eye, he sees Yoongi nodding to the rhythm.

“It’s good, drunk boy.” Yoongi teases. “I’d leave more space between the chords.”

Jimin watches him for a beat, then tries it.

“Exactly like that” Yoongi nods. Then he shrugs. “But it depends on what you’re trying to say with the song. If you want it to feel less melancholic, maybe leave it like it was.”

“I was thinking about adding a bassline and some drums!!” Jimin blurts out. He doesn’t know why he says it so quickly, but the urgency seems to amuse Yoongi, who gives him a soft smile. “But… listening to it again, don’t you think it’s too typical? Too basic?”

“Maybe. But basic isn’t bad if you know how to break it later. You could throw in a rhythm change midway or make the melody addictive, something that only you would do.” Yoongi says. “Did you compose a lot before uni? You’re way too good to be a newbie.”

Jimin’s cheeks burn as he can’t believe what he’s hearing. He bites his lip and looks away. That compliment… it makes him happy. Too happy.

“Deciding to study music wasn’t easy. It took me years...” he says, voice low, remembering all the weight behind that decision. Not just the indecision but losing touch with his parents completely, the judgmental stares from old classmates, the disappointment of former teachers and the vacant look on his father’s face when he said ‘You went from something bad to something worse.’

“And while I was thinking it over, doubting, I tried to learn everything on my own.”

His eyes meet Yoongi’s.

But it didn’t help. I suck.

He bites his tongue. When he chose to change careers, he was constantly reminded  of how by doing so he condemned himself to live the consequences of his choice. Without an ear to hear him complain because, in the end, it was his fault.

“You have talent, Jimin.”

The phrase hits him like a wave crashing against the shore.

Jimin blinks, as if he didn’t hear it right. He looks at Yoongi and doesn’t know if it’s because that innocent question pulled up a thousand painful memories or if it’s because he can see the sincerity in Yoongi’s eyes and hear the softness in his voice but his heart jumps, and the sudden urge to cry slams into him.

He’s told himself over and over that he doesn’t need validation, that he should stop begging for crumbs of it. And even though he’s never managed to actually do it, for the first time, it feels like he’s gotten it without having to act like a fool or forcing a charming attitude.

He swallows.

It’s a lot, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

So he laughs, looking away very aware of just how fake that laugh must sound.

“You should tell that to my professors” he says.

He has no idea how to take a real compliment.  Maybe Yoongi’s just being polite.

But Yoongi doesn’t really seem like the kind of person who lies just to be nice.

The pink boy just bumps his shoulder gently in response. “Come on. Keep playing. I wanna hear what melodies you’ve got for it.”

“I don’t know... you might steal my idea” Jimin says, trying to deflect, too embarrassed to show Yoongi his melodies and voice.

Yoongi laughs genuinely. “Oh, darling. I don’t need to do that.”

Jimin laughs too. Yoongi’s right.

“By the way, Park Jimin, you owe me a date.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide, almost comically.

His voice catches in his throat, and he can’t help but look away. The guilt slams back into him, twisting his stomach and wrapping around his lungs like a rope. He digs his nails into his palm and tries to breathe.

It’s too easy to get lost in Yoongi’s eyes. Too easy to forget why he approached him in the first place. Too easy to get distracted by the pink boy and forget, just for a moment, how fucking awful he actually is.

He clears his throat, but nothing comes out. Yoongi waits patiently, picking up Jimin’s pen and doodling smiley faces in the margins of his notebook.

Jimin should tell him. This is the perfect moment.

But like a coward, he hides again behind the same excuse he’s been using since Yoongi walked into the room. He only has to show Yoongi his true self for the man to run away and want nothing more to do with him. That’s all it takes for people to leave.

Nobody likes Jimin when he’s too honest.

He just has to do it again and it’ll happen all over again.

“You know, Min Yoongi... I’m a lot to handle. I don’t think you can deal with someone like me.”

It’s partially the truth. It just needs to swap “a lot to handle” with “too much to trouble”
and “I don’t think you can” with “you don’t deserve to.”

Jimin always gives Yoongi partial truths .

Yoongi lets out a smug little laugh. “Try me.”

And Jimin swallows hard.

“So what day suits you?” 

All Jimin can do is let Yoongi's perfume fill his lungs and associate him as the pink boy who he really it’s starting to likes.

🖤

And that’s how everything started.

Jimin told himself a thousand times he was going to tell him.

He practiced for a week, rehearsed every word, picked the right tone, played out fake conversations in his head, and theorized every possible reaction Yoongi might have. He studied them all. He built every argument like a lawyer defending a very obviously guilty client, aiming not for innocence, but for the softest sentence possible.

But when the day came, Jimin got distracted again. 

He gets too lost in him. In his pretty eyes, in the way he flirts without really trying, in the words that comfort him quietly, in his big hands and the way his brows always move with his emotions.

They were in a tiny artisan chocolate shop. Yoongi had said he liked chocolate every now and then and Jimin likes it every time he can.

“This one is white chocolate with Arabica coffee and nutmeg” the girl behind the counter explains sweetly, offering samples. “And this one is strawberry yogurt and milk. it’s very popular.”

“That chocolate’s just like you” Yoongi leans in to whisper, warm breath ghosting over Jimin’s ear and his cologne flooding his lungs all over again. 

It’s no truth. The chocolate haves strawberry yogurt  just like Yoongi hairs. And still Jimin has fights the smile creeping to his lips, and though it takes effort, he manages to bring back his disinterested gaze.

He’s a man on a mission.

Yoongi needs to get bored of him. To see what everyone else sees: that something is wrong with Jimin when he’s just being himself.

…and maybe today he’s being extra difficult. Just to speed up the process.

But Yoongi —oh dear, Yoongi— told him to try the chocolate. And God, this man has strength. Most people would’ve run away by now. But he’s still here. Unbothered. Still staring at him like he’s something worth unwrapping.

“You know…” Yoongi says once they’ve picked out the chocolates —well, Yoongi picked, because Jimin stayed stone silent— “I don’t even get why you’re resisting so hard.”

His tone is light and confident but his words carry a quiet truth that hits hard. “It’s kinda funny. Even you know you’re not gonna hold out for long.”

It’s said with a flirty smile. But it lands like a punch. It is easy to get lost in him. Jimin wants to, so badly. But he doesn’t deserve it.

You have to tell him. You have to tell him.

Yoongi turns toward him fully, tilting his head like he’s trying to read him deeper. “Park Jimin, What are you hiding?” he asks, voice lower now. “What’s stopping you from letting this happen?”

Jimin bites down on his lip, chest tightening, breath catching.

This is it. Say it. Say it now.

But then Yoongi exhales softly, voice going confident and safe: “I’ve already decided I want you. So it’s okay if you’re scared. I’ll wait. Just… don’t push me away.”

That’s the moment Jimin feels it… that horrible warmth that makes him want to cry, because he doesn’t deserve that kind of patience. That kind of softness.

He presses his nails into his palm to ground himself. Yoongi is making it too easy to fall for him.

Too easy to lie a little longer. To be a little selfish.

His parents were right, Jimin is selfish. Because he wants to keep this little warm just for a little longer before dive into the cold ocean full of loneliness and darkness where he belongs. 

“You shouldn’t wait” he says, eyes on the floor. “I’m not worth waiting for.”

It’s not a confession. It’s not the truth but it’s not quite a lie, either.

And he tells himself again. Next time. I’ll tell him next time.

And when Yoongi takes his chin to make him look him in the eyes, Jimin understands that Yoongi is going to hate him anyway. He just has to tell him so that those eyes that look at him intently turn cold. “I’m sure you are”

He says before kissing him. And Jimin melts.

Just a little longer. I promise.

🖤

One day Jimin is still on campus. Still feels eyes on his back. Still avoids Junyeom and the others like ghosts he refuses to name. They’ve seen each other from afar a few times, but none of them get close.

None of them want to acknowledge what happened that night. And Jimin —shamefully— feels a little better because of it.

He’s been running with Yoongi more often. The older boy still seeks him out, still tries to win him over in little ways. And Jimin still can’t bring himself to say the truth.

One day, he tells himself. Yoongi will get tired of me. 

He would get bored of Jimin’s inability to speak clearly and his contradictory actions. 

He’s leaving the music department one afternoon, earbuds in, when he bumps hard into someone rounding a corner.

“Oof—!” Jimin stumbles back, startled. “Oh, shit—sorry—!”

When he looks up to apologize, he finds a boy staring at him like he’s just watched a meteor shower land in human form.

Wide-eyed. Starstruck.

“Hi” the boy says, recovering with a sheepish smile. “I’m Jungkook.”

They introduce themselves.

Turns out, Jungkook’s also a first-year and he’s of course younger than Jimin. They even share a few classes, which genuinely surprises Jimin. 

Have I really been that lost in my own head this whole time?

But it’s… nice.

There’s a group project due soon, and now, finally, finally, finally, Jimin has someone to study with.

And it's curious because Jungkook is—Well, he’s hot. He’s Jimin’s usual type. Jungkook’s tall and strong and has three tattoos curling down his arm and a silver piercing in his ear and a leather jacket that practically screams “I’m fuckboy” 

But Jimin doesn’t see him that way.  

No butterflies. No flirty spark.

Just warmth. Genuine, rare warmth. A new friendship blooming out of nowhere like a flower in concrete.

And the funny part?

Jungkook looks like someone who’d make bets about how many people he could pull off… But he’s nothing like that. He’s all brightness and honesty. His eyes are like a bambi. His energy is light, gentle, full of easy joy.

Appearances can be deceiving because the one who made a stupid bet ended up being Jimin, who has this super nice guy image.

They connect immediately. So much so that Jimin almost wants to cry. Since when do good things happen to him like this?

Things are going too well and Jimin is scared. This is the highest point of the roller coaster before going down. 

The fall is going to hurt so bad.

That night, after a long shift at work, Jimin lies in bed with the lights off and finally, finally opens the old archived group chat with Junyeom and the others. There’s only one new message since that cursed party.

A photo.

Jimin feels the drop in his stomach before it even loads.

It’s him and Yoongi on that damn balcony leaning way too close. Jimin looks frozen, almost high, soft pink in the face like Yoongi’s hair. Too stunned to say anything. Too captivated to hide it.

Attached is a message from Jaehyun: I told you all. He’s bi.

Jimin stares at the screen for a long time and his chest tightens. His thumb hovers and then he does it.

He leaves the group.

He’ll tell Yoongi soon.

🖤

Jimin is sitting in the music room, guitar in hand and his laptop open as he tries to give the bass sound —unfortunately still artificial, since he can’t play it yet— to the song.

He’s softly humming when he feels the door open. He isn’t surprised. His hideout has never been secret for long, not when there's a pink-haired boy who loves stealing kisses.

Not like Jimin’s complaining.

“That sounds pretty good” Yoongi says, sitting down next to him. Jimin offers a warm glance. “What kind of song are you thinking of? Any ideas for the lyrics?”

Jimin’s cheeks heat up a little. “Maybe” he mumbles.

“Come on, Jimin-ah, at least tell me what melodies you've been thinking about.” Yoongi’s dramatic tone is there. “Sometimes I can’t sleep just thinking about it…”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You’re such a dramatic, hyung.”

He hears Yoongi laugh softly. “I’m serious.”

“No, you’re not!” Jimin retorts, turning to look at the older boy.

As always, he can’t help but stare into Yoongi’s eyes. They’re beautiful, but Jimin still can’t figure out what makes them so different.

Yoongi, of course, notices the unbroken gaze and starts smiling slyly. “You’re so fallen for me” he teases. Jimin rolls his eyes again.

Yoongi’s right, though. He is.

The pink boy takes advantage of the moment, leaning in to gently hold Jimin’s face. Jimin knows what’s coming and he’s ready.

He’s never been the one to start a kiss with Yoongi, but he always wants to. He shifts nervously, and Yoongi ends his torture by pressing his lips to Jimin’s. It’s a short, sweet kiss. Yoongi’s thumb brushes against his cheek, and Jimin melts into the kiss.

“At least the melody, hm?” Yoongi whispers against his lips.

Jimin’s lips curl into a small smile. “You’re such a manipulator” he accuses with a fake pout. “Fine, but only the chorus melody.”

Yoongi eagerly nods, not letting go of his cheeks, and Jimin takes a deep breath before starting.

He’s nervous. He’s afraid of being judged.

He starts humming softly, eyes closed. He hasn’t written any lyrics yet because he’s still unsure of the direction he wants the song to take. Yoongi’s thumb gently caressing his cheek gradually calms him down, and Jimin starts to lose himself in the moment.

He focuses on the sound of the guitar and how it’s blending with the bass so far, trying to think of a lyric that might help bring the idea in his head to life.

“Hmm hmm…” Suddenly, Yoongi’s thumb stops moving, and a phrase comes to Jimin’s mind, clear as day: Soft as cotton.

When Jimin opens his eyes, he sees Yoongi staring at him intensely. Yoongi is soft as cotton. He’s also white like it. It might sound a bit strange how Jimin associates Yoongi with soft things, but there’s something incredibly adorable about him with his pink hair.

“Park Jimin, you’re incredible” Yoongi says, his voice full of pride, before leaning in and planting another kiss on him.

Jimin’s stomach tightens.

Tell him. You have to tell him.

Jimin kisses him back.

🖤 

The first time Jimin hears a good rumor about Yoongi is, ironically, at the restaurant where he works.

He’s setting up some tables, placing the napkins and chopsticks into new packets, when his ears catch something about Yoongi.

“He’s a genius” a girl says. “He’s the only student who’s passed the infamous terror week with all the activities, scoring more than 80 points.”

Jimin’s eyes widen in surprise.

Oh, wow.

“Even though he’s a good guy, I really hate his ‘I’m-the-best’ attitude because it’s just too cool!” This time it’s a guy. “But he’s really the best at what he does.”

Jimin’s lips curl into a proud smile. He’s never heard one of Yoongi’s songs, only the playlists the older boy’s sent him. And even from just those, Jimin knew Yoongi had amazing taste, so it doesn’t surprise him to learn he’s a prodigy

“I heard it’s super rare for him to give a compliment.”

“It's true! Min Yoongi never says anything he doesn’t really feel.”

Jimin glances over at the group, pretending to be busy. Suddenly, everyone starts sharing stories about Yoongi, and Jimin can no longer understand what they’re saying with all the voices mixing together. 

Yoongi only gives compliments with his teeth.

You’re talented, Jimin.

Jimin smiles at the memory.

You’re incredible, Jimin.

But his smile fades quickly, and that familiar heavy feeling churns in his stomach.

You have to tell him, Jimin.

🖤 

Next time keeps becoming next time, and Jimin keeps inventing new excuses for himself.

This won’t last anyway. Nothing good that happens to me ever stays.

Jimin opens his eyes and sees the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the blinds. He stares at the ceiling, his chest tight with that familiar ache.

He thinks about Yoongi. 

The way Yoongi always looks at him, as if he's the only thing worth seeing in the room. He shifts uncomfortably in bed, pulling the covers up higher as if to hide from the world. He hasn't been able to shake the feeling that everything's meant to fall apart.

Yoongi’s smile keeps flashing through his mind. And his eyes. Those damn beautiful eyes that make Jimin feel like he's drowning, but also like he’s weightless.

Yoongi has been there for him and Jimin can't bring himself to tell him the truth. His thumb hovers over the phone screen, ready to send a message, but he can't. Not yet.

One day, he tells himself. Yoongi will get tired of him.

He’ll get bored of Jimin’s inability to acept him clearly and his contradictory actions.

He can’t let it go. The guilt. It gnaws at him like a hunger he can't satisfy.

🖤

Jimin walks through the halls with his head down. Does his professor really hate him, or is he just that bad? His lips are pouted, the temptation to give up constantly gnawing at him. What exactly has he achieved? Nothing at all. 

He lightly kicks a small stone with his right foot as it crosses his path.

Maybe if he were still studying dance, he would still have his mother’s warm hands telling him he’s talented.

But Jimin doesn’t even have that anymore.

A sudden arm wraps around his neck, and Jimin jumps, startled, his eyes searching for the owner of the arm. Of course, it’s Yoongi, flashing that wide grin of his, showing his gums. 

“Hey, Jimin!” He greets him, and Jimin tenses a bit. Being this public in college always makes him nervous. Because Jimin knows he’s messed up, and sooner or later, the truth will come out and burn him.

“Here.” Yoongi hands him a small but thick white envelope. Jimin furrows his brow as he takes it from his hands. “Open it.”

Jimin does. 

He opens the small envelope to find a pink notebook, the exactly same tone as Yoongi’s hair, and he can’t help but smile brightly. There’s also a pen, like Yoongi’s, too elegant.

“Hyung…”

“Our Jiminie needs a place to jot down all those brilliant ideas in his head.”

Jimin’s hands tremble slightly, and he can barely hold Yoongi’s gaze. This feeling of guilt tying him up, combined with the wave of warmth washing over him, is something Jimin is starting to get used to.

“Hyung... I don’t know what to say.” His voice chokes, and he wants to vomit the truth out. But when his eyes lift, he finds the pink boy looking at him with all his softness. His cheeks and neck are tinted with pink.

You have to tell him, Jimin.

But he can’t. He ends up giving him a kiss on the cheek instead. 

“Thank you, Yoongi hyung.”

The smile Yoongi gives him makes everything worth it. Jimin wants to stay in that warmth, just a little longer —just a little bit more.

🖤 

He’s not sure when it happened, but Yoongi ended up introducing him to several of his friends.

Now, he’s sitting at the table with a guy named Namjoon, and before he even noticed, Jimin had dragged Jungkook along, and now the four of them usually hang out in the back of the campus. It’s nice.

They joke around, and Jimin notices that he’s stopped thinking about what to say. Just like now, when Namjoon cracks a joke about his chubby cheeks, and Jimin doesn’t hesitate to bite back.

“But Jiminie is adorable, look at his chubby cheeks” Namjoon teases, his voice light with playfulness, but unlike before, his eyes are free of malice.

“Well… At least I have the cheeks that matter big! Not like some people. ”

It’s a bad joke Jimin has never dared to make before. Always aware that he has an amazing ass, but never confident enough to show it off. 

Namjoon pouts in response while Jungkook and Yoongi’s laughter fills the air. It wasn't funny, but they still laugh.

Since when did all these people like him for just being himself?

🖤

One of the sweetest surprises Jimin receives comes to him on a Saturday at the crack of dawn. He’s just finished his shift at the restaurant and is absolutely exhausted. As always.

With a sigh, he finishes locking up the place as his coworkers wave their goodbyes. He watches them drive off on their scooters or in their cars, and yeah— he feels a little jealous.

He fucking wishes.

Jimin's luck only ever stretches as far as available public transport at 3 a.m.

He stretches his arms before getting ready to make the long walk to the bus stop, when a sleek black car pulls up in front of the restaurant. He raises an eyebrow.

Weird.

But Jimin doesn’t get paid enough to stand around and investigate a shady car at 3 in the morning. So he makes sure the lock is closed for the last time, slings his backpack over his shoulder, and starts walking.

Then a head of soft pink hair emerges from the car, paired with the sweetest smile Jimin’s ever known.

He stops in his tracks.

“Yoongi hyung?” he calls out, a little dazed.

“The one and only” Yoongi says, spreading his arms like some smug action hero, leaning against the car like he knows he looks good.

Jimin blinks a few times before walking over. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi just laughs and —new development— pulls him in by the waist.

That’s new.

“I was in the area…” he says casually, like that’s a normal explanation.

Jimin bursts out laughing, wrapping his hands around Yoongi’s face, thumbs pressing gently into his cheeks.

“In the area? At this hour?”

“Yeah. And I thought… doesn’t Jiminie get off work around now?” His voice is dipped in mock-casual charm. “So I figured, maybe I’ll swing by. See if I catch him coming out.”

Jimin presses a little harder into his cheeks. “Liar.”

But Jimin’s the real liar.

“There’s no sources to support your claim. I catch you.” He says so silly and Jimin’s chest feels stupidly warm. 

He's right. Yoongi did catch him.

“You catch me” Jimin says, then leans in and kisses him.  It’s the first time he’s ever been the one to initiate. “Where are you taking me, then?”

Yoongi’s hands tighten slightly on his waist. “To my place.” 

Jimin kisses him again before sliding into the passenger seat.

He doesn’t say anything when the smell of Yoongi’s cologne fills the car, stronger than usual, like maybe he over-sprayed in a rush. He stays quiet again when they pull up and he sees the little family photo keychain hiding poorly in the seat carpet. Two boys, smiling. A neat cursive reads: You’re the best, Dad.

Yoongi dad's car.

Yoongi borrowed his dad’s car to pick him up at 3 a.m.

Jimin doesn’t say a word. He just kisses him again before they head upstairs.

Too overwhelmed by the simple fact that Yoongi came for him. That he cared. That he chose him.

You have to tell him, Jimin. You have to.

🖤 

“Hey, hyung… did you know you're soft like cotton?” Jimin says as Yoongi lies with his head in his lap. Jimin’s index finger traces the lines of his face.

“What are you saying, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi replies shyly, and Jimin notices the soft pink blooming on his cheeks and neck.

“It’s the truth!”

But that’s not the truth he needs to say.

🖤

The thing about Yoongi’s bed is that it’s fucking addictive. He is addictive.

Jimin quickly finds out that his favorite place in the entire world is in any bed with Yoongi in it. 

They turned out to have way too much chemistry… and way too much desire.

Of course, picking a favorite part is basically impossible.

It could be the start when the clothes start coming off and everything burns so hot it hurts. Or maybe it’s when Yoongi is deep inside him, making him see stars. Or maybe —just maybe— it’s the aftermath, when Jimin is sprawled across his chest, lazily drawing shapes on his soft skin.

Or it might be the final round —there always seems to be one last round— when they’re almost out of energy and every movement takes effort, and there’s this silent, almost sacred battle: who’ll come first?

Then again, maybe it’s the wild days. The days when they’re so desperate for each other they go full throttle, fucking like the world’s ending. Sometimes they’ve even worried the neighbors might complain. 

Jimin’s had so many happy moments with the pink boy. But in every single one, somewhere in the back of his head, a voice keeps drilling into him.

Tell him. Tell him.

But Jimin’s so afraid of giving up his little piece of heaven, he can’t see clearly anymore.

🖤

“Hey, Jimin”

“Huh?”

“I wrote this song a few days ago and I wanted to know your opinion.”

Excitement floods every cell of Jimin’s body. His eyes light up, and Yoongi smiles back at him, happy.

“What exactly do you want my opinion on?”

Yoongi leans back in his chair, making a sound as if he’s seriously considering it, and the younger's nerves start to eat away at him from the inside.

“Could you take a look at the beat...” Yoongi says with that playful, teasing tone that Jimin can’t help but adore. “And also the lyrics.”

“Hyung!”

Yoongi has shown him many of his songs and beats. But he’s never shown him any of his lyrics. Never.

And Jimin has always been dying of curiosity, especially since Yoongi has seen a couple of his. But Jimin feels like the fact that Yoongi wants to show him this... means a lot.

Are they slowly building a deeper bond of trust?

That thought makes Jimin so happy, so happy that he ends up planting a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek, causing him to laugh.

But, as always, Jimin doesn’t let himself enjoy the moment for too long. His right hand’s nail digs into the skin of his left forearm.

Tell him, Jimin. Tell him.

🖤

Sunday morning Jimin wakes up to three messages from Yoongi. He unlocks his phone while still half-asleep, cheek smushed against his pillow, eyes barely open.

Pink Boy: bring you ass
Pink Boy: and ur notebook
Pink Boy: i’m kidnapping u

Jimin stares at the last message for a second, then lets out a sleepy giggle. It’s stupid how much that text makes his chest feel warm. Kidnapping him? Please. Jimin would willingly walk into a dragon’s cave if Yoongi asked nicely enough.

He throws on the jeans Yoongi likes —the tight light blue jeans that make Jimin legs look even thicker than usual— and grabs the pink notebook from his desk. There’s a pen stuck in the spiral, ink slightly smudged from the last time he scribbled down lyrics in a hurry.

By the time he reaches the parking lot, Yoongi’s already waiting in his dad’s car, window rolled down, one hand casually hanging out. When Jimin approaches, Yoongi grins like he just won the lottery.

“Get in, loser” he says. “We’re going songwriting.”

Jimin rolls his eyes but slides into the passenger seat. “You’re ridiculous.”

Yoongi shrugs, pulling away from the curb. “You love it.”

He’s not wrong.

They drive in comfortable silence for a while, the kind where the quiet isn’t awkward, it’s safe. The music playing through Yoongi’s speakers is soft, mostly instrumental. Something slow and pretty. Something Jimin could write to.

Eventually, Yoongi pulls into a park and leads Jimin to a shaded bench near a little creek. There’s no one around, just the sound of birds and running water and the occasional rustle of leaves. It’s the kind of place you’d write your best song in. Or maybe fall in love.

Jimin takes out his notebook, but his hands hesitate over the cover.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, watching him from the side.

“Yeah” Jimin says, biting the inside of his cheek. “Just... I want to write something real, you know?”

Yoongi nods. “Then do it. Don’t worry if it’s perfect. Just make it true.”

Jimin opens the notebook. On the first blank page, his pen hovers.

You know that I can’t
Show you me, give you me
I can’t show you a ruined part of myself
Once again I put a mask on an go to see you
But I still want you.

He pauses. Stares at the words. Then tears the page out and shoves it in his jeans pocket.

“Not ready?” Yoongi asks gently.

Jimin smiles without looking at him. “Not yet.”

🖤

Yoongi is always giving Jimin things.

Sometimes it’s just a candy to “help him power through the day” before work, and other times it’s a full homemade meal.

Yoongi cooks too well.

“Hyung, admit it” Jimin says, picking up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. “You’re trying to fatten me up, aren’t you?”

His pink boy laughs genuinely. “You’ve discovered my evil plan.” And Jimin stares at him, surprised by the sudden softness in his voice. “You’ve lost weight, Jimin... You don’t eat properly. I know you don’t have time.”

He says it so matter-of-factly that Jimin just blinks at him, stunned.

Even he hadn’t noticed the weight loss. He picks up another piece of chicken and eats it slowly.

…Does that mean Yoongi wouldn’t like him if he got too thin?

But then —And like always— Yoongi says something that melts Jimin like ice in a desert. “Let Hyung take care of you, okay? Hyung’s gonna make sure you eat properly.”

Jimin blinks a few more times, dazed.

Yoongi really cares about him.

And as always Jimin responds with the one thing he’s been telling himself since the beginning. “You shouldn’t worry about me so much, hyung.”

He doesn’t deserve it. Not Yoongi’s food. Not his care. Not the way Yoongi looks at him like he matters.

Yoongi stares at him for a moment… then rolls his eyes. “Well, I do.”

And just like that, Jimin feels the guilt rise in his throat like bile.

You have to tell him, Jimin.

🖤

“What are you doing, Jimin?”

“Writing, hyung.”

Yoongi leans closer to peek at his notebook.

“ I'd rather be lost in the light, lost in the light, I'm out of my mind” he reads aloud, and Jimin rolls his eyes, visibly annoyed. “Losing in what lights? Why?”

“Hyung, stop.”

Yoongi chuckles as Jimin looks embarrassed.

“I'm just really curious, Jiminie.”

Jimin looks at him for a few seconds.

You're my light, hyung. You're the light. I'd rather be lost in you than anywhere else.

“You know… like getting lost in the night, in a city full of lights.”

Yoongi stares at him for a moment, lips pressed together like he doesn’t believe him.

Tell him, Jimin. Tell him.

Then Yoongi simply laughs and says nothing else, turning his attention back to the rest of the lyrics to read out loud. To annoying him.

🖤

Jimin is writing some lyrics on Yoongi’s bed. He keeps humming around the song he’s been trying to finish. A cold hand touches his skin, and Jimin rolls his eyes. 

“Hyung” he complains, though it doesn't really bother him.

“Jiminie, is the first song that you were doing months ago? Do you have the lyrics?”

Jimin’s smile is huge as he nods. “Just a few.”

Immediately, Yoongi jumps off the bed, excited, and grabs Jimin by the waist. “Show them to me.”

Jimin bites his lips, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Or better yet, sing them!”

Jimin refuses. “Nooo.”

“Come on, Jiminie, I have to know what your voice sounds like when you sing! You said you’ve been learning to sing for a couple of years.”

And Jimin is so, so weak.

“Just a little bit!” he agrees.

Yoongi’s grip tightens around him, and Jimin takes a deep breath before he starts singing.

“I’d freeze time here, lying on your skin, soft as cotton.” Yoongi’s cheeks turn red. He knows it’s about him. Jimin’s pink boy. “I feel good, good, good, when you love me. Lying on your skin, soft as cotton. I feel good, good, good, when we love each other.”

Jimin stops immediately, feeling his heart threatening to leap out of his chest, his hands sweating. Isn't this almost a confession?

There’s a small silence between them, and Jimin stares at the notebook in his hands. He didn’t want to admit something like that so soon. He should've thought before he sang.

“Jimin…” He hears Yoongi’s voice but doesn’t dare look up. “It’s beautiful… and your voice… I have no words.”

Only then does Jimin look up and find the adorable sight that his eyes have come to love: Yoongi, with his pink hair, and his cheeks, neck, and ears all flushed. Even a little of his chest.

A minute of silence passes before Yoongi takes his face and kisses him passionately.

How could he tell him after such a moment?

🖤

Jimin is just leaving his last class of the day when he spots his unofficial boyfriend —though neither of them has said the word— off in the campus smoking area.

He frowns as he walks over.

“I didn’t know you smoked” he says by way of greeting, startling Yoongi, who jumps in place.

“Sometimes I do.” he replies with a laugh. Jimin’s annoyed expression is honestly kind of adorable.

“I’m not surprised… but don’t do it!” he says, seriously.

“It’s going to be a stressful couple of weeks, Jiminie.” Yoongi argues. “Worse for you.”

He steps closer until he’s standing directly in front of the older boy, and plucks the cigarette from his fingers. Yoongi watches him with a serious look.

Jimin pouts, then tries to take a drag. “Jiminie, that’s not how you smoke. And you shouldn’t smoke at all.”

He says it just as Jimin ends up coughing hard.

“Are you serious? You shouldn’t smoke either!” Jimin fires back.

“Yeah, but it’s worse for you. You sing, Jiminie”

Jimin stares at him for a long moment.

“It’s bad for you too… If you’re that stressed, you can blow off steam with me.”

Even if Jimin is also bad for him.

🖤

One of those days where they’re lying down, resting under the blankets, Yoongi is especially curious.

“So, the last time you talked to your parents was...?”

“Last year, I think, a little before Christmas.” Jimin answers, his index finger drawing random patterns on Yoongi's chest.

“We’re in september.”

“Yeah…”

“Don’t they help you?”

“They used to, back when I was studying dance. They weren't very that happy, but I think the logic is that dancers are more sought after in this country than composers. When I switched to music, I had to leave them behind too.”

Silence settles, and Jimin starts to feel sleepy.

“How do you pay for everything?”

“I have a scholarship that covers most of my tuition, so I’m good for now. But that’s why I haven’t left the restaurant job; a lot of foreign tourists go there and leave tips. They don’t know we don’t do tips here—”

I can’t bring myself to tell them, I can’t.

Saying out loud makes Jimin realise who awful he is, for the nth time.

“And your roommate?”

Jimin blinks. 

“Seokjin hyung? Oh, hyung actually owns the apartment. His parents are rich, he rents me the room way cheaper than he should. I guess out of pity…” Then he makes a face. “Though I’m not sure how long I’ll stay there. Things are going really well for him and Hoseok hyung, and I think I’ll be the one who’s out of place soon.”

He murmurs slowly, drifting off to sleep beside Yoongi.

“Hey, Jimin-ah… you’re amazing."”

The last thing Jimin thinks before falling asleep is: You have to tell him, Jimin.

🖤

After hearing so many rumors, Jimin had to assume it was only natural for people to start talking about him.

It was strange because he wasn’t the most famous person at the university or anything like that. But soon enough, a gossip page from the university posted about how adorable the freshman couple “Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook” were.

Jimin doesn’t comment on it, but a little while later, he sees Jungkook’s post quoting the page with a simple yet honest #FakeNews.

Yoongi doesn’t mention it at all throughout the day, even though Jimin is sure he knows. People murmurs when he walks down the hallways.

That night, while they’re going at it hard, guilt is present in every cell of Jimin’s body. If he were honest, he could stay forever. They could talk openly, but since he’s not… It has an expiration date.

Tell him, Jimin, tell him.

He thinks this as he reaches his third orgasm, but instead of saying anything, when they’re done, he pulls the paler man into an embrace so tight that it suffocates him for a few seconds.

Don’t hate me too much, Yoongi.

🖤

The alarm went off, waking them up. It’s an Epik High song. Jimin groans grumpily.

“Hyung...” He searches with his finger for Yoongi’s cheek, lying next to him. “Turn that off...”

The older boy groans, ignoring him, and Jimin pokes his cheek a little more forcefully.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“I hate that song” Jimin mutters.

Yoongi laughs weakly, pulling Jimin closer to continue sleeping. He massages Jimin’s waist with his fingers until Jimin falls back asleep.

🖤

“Hey, Jiminie”

Jimin makes a small sound, signaling that he’s listening. He feels so tired and wishes he could sleep for a whole week.

“Why do you hurt your arms with your nails?”

Jimin’s eyes snap open, and he lifts his head from Yoongi’s lap.

Yoongi’s expression is patient, but he knows Jimin too well so before the younger can say that he doesn’t know what Yoongi means, the older man grabs his left arm and pulls up the sleeve of his hoodie.

The scars from his nails streak across his arm, some are even starting to turn a sickly shade of green.

Jimin bites his lip, desperately trying to hold back the tears threatening to cloud his vision.

This is it. This is the moment. He’s going to tell him.

“I’m not a good person, Yoongi hyung” Jimin says, his voice shaking as he draws in a deep breath. “I don’t deserve any of the good things that have happened... and I can’t stop the guilt from drowning me.”

The atmosphere becomes unbearably heavy, and Jimin struggles to breathe, his chest tight with emotion. “Hyung, I—”

“How much longer are you going to keep sabotaging yourself?” Yoongi’s voice is firm, not angry, but filled with concern. “How much longer are you going to keep living like you haven’t done what you were supposed to do and, because of that, you can’t enjoy what you’ve chosen for yourself?”

Tears spill down Jimin’s cheeks, a mixture of guilt and relief flooding his chest. How much longer will he drown in this self-inflicted pain? How much longer will he deceive himself into thinking things can stay this way? Isn’t Yoongi the one who’s shown him what it means to be truly a good person? Isn’t it time to stop pretending and finally say the words he’s been carrying all along? I love you.

“It’s painful to watch, Jimin-ah” Yoongi’s voice is softer now, his finger tracing over the scars on Jimin’s arm. “It hurts seeing the person you lo— care about hurting themselves like this.”

In that moment, as Yoongi’s words settle deep into his brain, Jimin realizes the truth. If he lets the thorn grow too deep, things might never turn out right. Maybe if he admits everything now, they won’t have to end so badly. He has a chance.

“I don’t know how to stop doing it, hyung...” Jimin whispers, his voice small, before he gently grabs Yoongi’s finger on his arm, intertwining their hands before lifting his gaze to meet Yoongi’s. “But I want to stop… I want to make things right.”

Tell him, Jimin. You need to tell him.

And when Yoongi presses a gentle kiss to the tears on Jimin’s cheeks, Jimin’s heart aches. All this time, he’s been the cat—hurt and pretending not to want anything, but so broken inside, craving Yoongi’s touch to heal his wounds, to hide away from reality in his arms.

But that’s not how things work.

🖤

The so-called “Terror-week” or whatever the hell they’re calling it, has begun. And Jimin has to admit: the rumors were true.

It’s brutal.

Thank God, though —thanks to Yoongi, and inspired by him— Jimin has written countless songs in the older boy's apartment.

Sometimes with him. Sometimes alone. Always with him in mind.

And every lyric is raw, painful, powerful.

Yoongi helped him record each one, always pushing him gently, always insisting his voice deserved to be heard. He said he loved it — loves Jimin’s voice.

And maybe Jimin started to believe him.

But Yoongi keeps watching him when he thinks Jimin isn’t looking. Like he knows something’s off. Especially when Jimin's most important project of the week starts sounding... too personal.

Caught in a lie
Find the me that was pure
I can't be free from this lie
Give me back my smile
Caught in a lie
Pull me from this hell
I can't be free from this pain
Save me, I am being punished

It’s been a revealing week and something shifts inside Jimin.

He’s going to tell Yoongi the truth. He has to. Because now… he has faith. If anyone could forgive him: it’s Yoongi.

And Jimin realized something else. He wants a future with him. He loves him. It’s just a shame he was too slow to figure that out.

Especially now that the rumors start. Jimin didn’t ace every exam, but still  he’s one of the rare freshmen who passed all of them. And apparently, that’s reason enough for people to talk.

Some say he’s dating Min Yoongi —the genius, the senior prodigy— and that Yoongi helped him pass. Others say Yoongi did all the work for him.

And of couse, Yoongi has helped. Gave advice, challenged him, encouraged him to sing with his own voice, but the music? That was Jimin. Every lyric, every tear-stained chord progression, came from him.

Yoongi didn’t just mentor him. Yoongi moved him. Inspired him. Made him feel .

The work Yoongi has done during that hellish week of exams can’t compare to the months of pure love he’s given Jimin, inspiring him to write song after song with Yoongi as his muse.

If Jimin could, he’d put Yoongi’s name on every damn song. Every single song is about his pink boy.

Still… the accusations sting. And Jimin doesn’t fight them. He doesn’t need to prove himself to anyone. The only person that matters already knows the truth even if he doesn’t know all of it.

But that doesn’t mean Jimin isn’t scared. He can’t breathe until this last class ends. Because today —finally— he’s going to tell Yoongi everything .

Of course, Junyeom and Sunmi seem to believe the rumor going on.  

When he turns, they’re sitting there, smug as hell. They look like bullies from a teen drama. It’d be funny if it weren’t so real. Jimin slings his bag over his shoulder, raising an unimpressed brow.

“Well, well” Sunmi croons. “If it isn’t our little prodigy. You and Yoongi, huh? Didn’t think you’d actually go that far with him.”

Jimin stares back at her, feigning indifference. Pretending they don’t make him nervous, pretending they don’t hold a dirty secret of his. 

“Only someone like you would think something as cynical as that.” he replies calmly.

“Someone like me?” Sunmi replies with a smirk. “I didn’t make a bet on anyone.”

Jimin’s hands tighten around his bag’s strap.

“Besides... wasn’t it you who said, 'What did you gain from all this ?'” Junyeom adds, giving Jimin a sharp look. “’ Seems like we have our answer.”

Jimin smirks. “Didn’t you also say you’d help me with this Terror-Week crap?” Jimin’s voice is dripping with irony. “Seems like we all say shit we don’t mean.”

Junyeom stares at him, unblinking. “Did we?”

“I don’t know about you two…” Jimin sneers. “But I did.”

Sunmi laughs, low and cruel. “Does Yoongi know?”

Jimin looks her dead in the eye. “He does.”

And it’s like the air shifts. Both of them go rigid, just for a split second. Their plan —whatever it was— just fell apart.

“Anyway, why are you here?” Jimin asks. “Trying to scare me? Gonna hit me? The bully role doesn’t suit you, you’re too cowardly to do anything.”

Sunmi glares at him, and Junyeom stands up, ready to throw a punch. But thank God, Jungkook walks in.

“Jiminie hyung, what is taking so long? Oh—”

“Hey, Jungkookie...” Jimin replies, silently praying that the sound of his panicked heartbeat won’t be audible to anyone but him. “Some sunbae were just curious about how I passed the exams.”

Immediately, Jungkook’s expression turns serious, his voice as cold as ice. “With hard work. Obviously.”

Jimin smiles, genuinely grateful. The difference between Jungkook and Junyeom is night and day. He thanks God every day for getting out of their reach.

“Well, see you…” Jimin mutters, brushing past them. He links arms with Jungkook as they head for the door.

Fuck, that was scary.

“You okay, hyung?” Jungkook murmurs, eyes flicking to Jimin’s pale face. “You don’t look good.”

“I’ll tell you later” Jimin whispers, already unlocking his phone. “I… might need a friend after.”

Jimin’s eyes become serious, and Jungkook can’t help but swallow, nodding silently.

Jimin dials.

“Hyung, where are you? I’m coming over.”

“Jimin? Weren’t you working? Wait— is this about that post? About us? You don’t need to—”

“What post? Never mind—just… where are you?”

“Jiminie—”

“Hyung, please. This is really important. Don’t see anyone until I talk to you. Please, please…”

Yoongi exhales on the other end. “Okay. I’m heading home now.”

“I’m on my way” Jimin says, and hangs up before he can lose his nerve.

He flags a taxi —one he absolutely can’t afford— but right now? He doesn’t care.

He has to talk to Yoongi.

🖤

The first thing Jimin does when he steps into Yoongi’s apartment is look at him intensely. Fully aware that this might be the last time he sees those soft, love-filled eyes looking at him like that.

He walks toward the older boy slowly and pulls him into a tight embrace.

I'm sorry…

Yoongi wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist, immediately sensing something strange in his energy.

“Hyung…”

Yoongi pulls back slightly to press a soft kiss to Jimin’s lips. “Jiminie”

Jimin gazes at him, eyes shimmering with a love so deep it feels like it could drown him but there's a shadow of sorrow carved into his expression.

“I need to talk to you. It’s urgent” he says quietly. Yoongi’s grip on his waist tightens.

“You’re going to end things… aren’t you?” he asks cautiously. Jimin bites his lip.

I hope not.

“I don’t know... but I have to tell you something I’ve been hiding from you.”

“Is this about that post on the university gossip page?” Jimin furrows his brows.

“What post?” he asks, uncertain. A wave of nausea hits him.

“The one saying we’re not actually dating…” Yoongi murmurs as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Here it is.”

Jimin hesitates before taking the phone.

The Strange Business Relationship between Min Yoongi and Park Jimin.

Jimin’s heart starts pounding, and the phone trembles in his shaky hands.

It’s a fact: Min Yoongi staged this entire relationship with first-year student Park Jimin to deflect from the accusations of queerbaiting that surfaced earlier this year. Park Jimin, whose only experience in music was dancing, somehow managed to create a new song for each project  during Terror Week.

“What the fuck?” Jimin whispers. Yoongi’s thumbs trace slow, soothing circles on his waist.

Isn’t it just too convenient? Park Jimin, once a dance prodigy, suddenly gives up his entire future to pursue a music career despite being, as former classmates said “completely talentless” at composing.

Jimin’s stomach churns as he sees a screenshot of a chat where someone named Jinyoung cruelly says, “Park Jimin dropped dancing to play pretend as a singer” and a girl named Chaeyoung adds, “What a shame, that sunbae was actually good at dancing.” Then, a flood of laugh reacts and the classic “Did he lose his mind?” that Jimin’s heard too many times since he made the switch.

He swallows hard and keeps reading.

Min Yoongi, the university’s music prodigy, rightly accused of pretending to be part of a marginalized community to manipulate women. Now the two are in a suspicious “relationship” that neither has ever confirmed despite being together for months. Isn’t that curious? What do you think? Let us know!

“Hyung…” Jimin whispers, feeling like he’s about to pass out. His knees buckle but Yoongi catches him and gently helps him sit down.m “This doesn’t make sense... why are they so obsessed with accusing you of queerbaiting?”

Yoongi gives a soft smile. "I have no idea... if I even knew who was behind it, maybe I could ask them.”

Jimin looks at him with intensity. “Hyung... I think I know who it is...” He bites his lip hard, especially when Yoongi looks at him with genuine curiosity.

“It’s Junyeom, from third year... with Sunmi.”

Yoongi’s mouth opens in shock — but soon, understanding dawns on his face like a storm breaking. He nods repeatedly, like each nod slots another puzzle piece into place. “It makes so much fucking sense” he says, laughing bitterly.

Jimin feels like he’s dying. He doesn’t want to ask but he has to. “Why, hyung?”

Yoongi clenches his jaw before answering, eyes burning but not at Jimin. 

Jimin knows that look will be turned toward him soon.

“Because I rejected Junyeom.” 

It’s like a planet crashes into Jimin’s chest. 

His vision swims.

“What?”

“Yeah. That asshole. He asked me out at the beginning of the year. We weren’t close, just mutual friends… and I didn’t like him. I guess I didn’t realize how pissed that made him.”

Yoongi’s voice dips into something thoughtful, but Jimin’s eyes are already flooding.

He walked right into a trap. And he dragged Yoongi down with him.

He tries to breathe, tries to hold back a sob but fails. Yoongi turns quickly at the sound. “Jimin? Why are you crying?”

“I’m horrible, Yoongi hyung, I’m horrible” Jimin starts sobbing. “I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve you.”

His words blur with his tears.

Yoongi panics. He cups Jimin’s face, gently trying to get him to look at him.

But Jimin is spiraling.

I’m a fucking idiot. I’m a fucking idiot. I’m a fucking idiot.

That’s all that echoes in his mind.

He thinks Yoongi is calling his name, but it’s distant, like underwater.

What did I do what did I do what did I do—

His sobs get louder. Yoongi gets more desperate.

“Jimin, breathe. Talk to me. Everything’s okay” Yoongi pleads, his voice full of fear which only makes Jimin cry harder.

He doesn’t deserve Yoongi’s concern. Doesn’t deserve his love.

“Hyung, I did something awful—” Jimin sobs “I’m awful. Please don’t hate me.”

“Jimin, Jimin, breathe, please. Why would I hate you? I just need you to breathe.”

Yoongi’s phone rings. An unknown number. He ignores it, more focused on calming Jimin.

“Come on, Jimin, please, talk to me” he repeats but the phone won’t stop ringing.

Jimin tries to breathe deeply, but every breath is wrecked by a sob. 

Still, he tries.

By the seventh call, Yoongi finally answers, worried it’s an emergency. 

He puts it on speaker.

“Yes, Jimin, I support you! I bet you can ask him on a date! and prove me right”

Yoongi frowns. What the hell?

“But why would I do that?”

It takes a beat  but then Yoongi recognizes the voice. It’s Jimin.

Still crying, Jimin’s face goes pale.

This is the end.

“Oh, come on, Jimin! Aren’t you gay?”

“Yeah, I am. But like… what about it?”

“So you can find out the truth about Min Yoongi!”

Jimin laughs on the recording. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Come on, Jimin, relax a little! It’s just a bet!”

 “But what is in it for me?”

Jimin closes his eyes. Yoongi is staring at the phone. 

It's over, it's over, it's over.

“Well… finding out the truth?”
Jimin laughs again in the recording. “It’s a very funny, cool little plan, but I don’t think I’m the right guy for this. I’m the new guy and he’s a senior. If he finds out, he could totally get mad or even sabotage me in the future or something. I don’t think I can gain anything from this.”

Jimin feels so sick hearing himself that he just vomits, there is nothing in his stomach, so he just vomits saliva.

“Oh my god, Jimin, you’re so dramatic! Just try to ask him out, flirt a little! If he flirts back, then he’s gay. You know, he’s hot as hell!”

“And? it’s also a lot of work to just talk to a men” 

“Guys, please! it’s obvious Jimin doesn't think he has a chance… He’s not that confidence after all”

“Oh I have a chance, darling… But why would I?”

 “You can’t.”

“Like I said… I can. But what is in it for me? If I’m gonna do this, might as well get something out of it.”

Yoongi's body tenses, suddenly his shoulders become longer and his hands clench into fists.

“It’s just a bet, guys! No big deal.” 

“Who’s ever died from flirting? It’s just a bet. It’s not a big deal. But I know you can’t”

“But what do I gain? Give me something that make me work hard for it’s only fair”

Jimin feels as if he is going to faint. 

“You know, there's a week at the end of the year called terror week!! Because it is really terrifyind. All the teachers and TAs in the music department make this week incredibly impossible for the freshman”

“So they know how it's gonna be in the industry. If they can pull it up, and do well, when you graduate they give you recommendations. Some even put you direct to their contacts in the industry”

“It’s absolutely terrible and most of us couldn’t pass. We survived but didn’t pass most of the exams and projects... I didn’t. If you can ask Min to a date and prove me he’s bi or not, i’ll help you with some projects and you’ll pass”

“woooow, that’s a lot” 

“You… Do all that for a bet?”

“Yeah, sure! If you win, of course”

“Fuck, Jimin! this shit it’s too good!”

Jimin feels sick. He keeps crying and throwing up.

“Wait, can I participate too? Do all my homework”

“What do you mean by proving to you he’s bi?” 

“Well, isn’t just going ask him on a date proof enough?” 

“Yeah, I think so too” 

“It’s just a dare, Jimin. Nobody’s died from that.”

“It’s not a big deal!”

“Yeah, right!”

“Whatever. It’s not a big deal… It’s a stupid bet. I’ll do it”

“Deal.”

“Yeah, deal”

And all those words condemn him. 

The silence between the two is suffocating and Jimin is a mess between his vomiting and his now silent crying. 

The call still doesn't hang up and then the worst day of Jimin's life takes place.

“Well, well. Isn’t it our smart Jimin? You and Yoongi... I didn’t think you’d actually go that far with him.”

“…wasn’t it you who said, 'What did you gain from all this?’ Seems like we have our answer”

“Didn’t you also say you’d help me with this Terror-Week crap? I don’t know about you two — you’re too cowardly to do anything.”

“Does Yoongi know?”

“He does.”

A voice that Jimin recognizes as Junyeom's says loud and clear.

“Did you know, Yoongi?”

Jimin stares at the phone.

How could something so small destroy his life and his hopes in just seconds? How could something so small cause so much damage?

Yoongi stares at the phone too, silent.

The silence is heavy. Cruel. Drenched in misery and agony.

Jimin tries to speak.

“It’s not what it sounds like... I mean, I—” He chokes on his own tears. “They edited the last part, and I—”

“Did you or did you not make a bet to go out with me?”

Yoongi’s voice is cold. Sharp.

Jimin squeezes his eyes shut. This is the end.

He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a strangled sob.

“I did, but—”

Tears blur his vision. Breathing feels impossible.

“Hyung, I’m so sorry. I was stupid. But I swear, everything I feel for you is real. I love you—”

“Do you?” Yoongi cuts him off, finally turning to face him. His eyes are bloodshot: not from crying, but from pure, burning rage. From betrayal. “You loved me while faking a relationship? You loved me while trying to figure out if I was actually queer?”

Jimin feels like he’s going to throw up again.

“It’s really not how it sounds, I don’t—”

Yoongi stands up. Pacing. Breathing heavily.

Jimin reaches out to him, but Yoongi steps back, like Jimin’s touch might kill him.

“What happened? Were you scared I’d sabotage you and that’s why you kept going out with me?” Yoongi spits out, furious. “What did you win? Getting through that shitty week? Wow. Congratulations. All your sacrifice for nothing, you didn’t even need me in the end. You did it all by yourself. Or maybe you stole something from my notebooks — I won’t fucking know!”

“I didn’t! Of course I didn’t!” Jimin cries out desperately. “I don’t care about the bet, I don’t care about the week! what I feel for you isn’t a bet—”

“And now that the week’s over, of course,” Yoongi snarls “you come rushing here to ‘talk’ to me, just so you can finally get rid of me. I can’t fucking believe this.”

“That’s not it! I came here to tell you—”

“Jimin, get out of my house.”

“Hyung, please, I’m sorry—”

“Park Jimin, get out of my house right now.”

“Hyung—”

“Don’t make me throw you out, Jimin!”

Jimin’s lips tremble. All he can do is cry. But somehow, he drags himself toward the door.

He can’t even stand. He crawls.

“Hyung, please... let me explain... maybe not today, but please, listen to me someday...”

“Get. Out.”

🖤

Since that day, Jimin’s real suffering begins. 

If guilt already kept him from fully enjoying every moment with Yoongi, then the memory of the hatred and coldness in his voice when he kicked him out of the apartment becomes something far worse. His own personal hell. 

He doesn’t even understand how he’s still breathing. 

He’s left Yoongi hundreds of messages —texts, audios, voicemails. He’s searched for him in every classroom on campus, dropped letters by his door like some kind of desperate ghost, haunting the place where he lost everything. But Yoongi doesn’t answer. Yoongi refuses to speak to him. 

And honestly, Jimin gets it. He can’t even blame him. 

This is what he signed up for when he kept his mouth shut. This is what he earned when he let the truth come out in the cruelest way possible. Why didn’t he tell him sooner? Why wasn’t he brave enough to say the truth? 

He’s cried so much he doesn’t even have tears anymore. That night, he never made it home, just curled up on the pavement in Yoongi’s building parking lot, shaking so hard from sobbing he couldn’t move a single inch. 

Everything’s a blur after he left Yoongi’s apartment, but he remembers every twitch in Yoongi’s face, every shift in his body, every gesture like a blade carving into him. He destroyed it. 

He destroyed everything good that Yoongi ever gave him.

When he finally dragged himself home the next day, Seokjin was there at the door, eyes wide and full of panic. Jimin couldn’t even speak. He physically couldn’t. That day he just collapsed and Seokjin catched him. 

And for the rest of the whole week, Seokjin becomes his lifeline. He tucks Jimin into bed, feeds him applesauce like a child, holds him through every ugly sob until he finally falls asleep. He even drags him into the shower and bathes him a few times, like Jimin’s forgotten how to move.

Jimin’s a ghost. A zombie. His voice only comes back to send desperate voice messages to Yoongi.

It’s laughable now, how he thought Seokjin only pitied him. That was never true. Seokjin cared about him. He really, truly cared.

Jimin remembers the first time he admitted that out loud —how Seokjin cared for him not out of pity, but love— was the first time his appetite slightly came back. He forced down half a slice of toast and told Seokjin between bites. Seokjin looked at him with soft, sad eyes, and in that moment Jimin understood:

Nobody pities him more than he pities himself.

When he finally tells Seokjin the truth —the whole truth— about what he did, about how it all started, Seokjin’s eyes stay wide in stunned silence. He says nothing at first, just makes Jimin a hot chocolate and hugs him tight, like that alone can put him back together. He only says one thing: everyone makes mistakes. Jimin cries so hard that night he falls asleep with his face pressed into Seokjin’s hoodie, still wet with tears.

But life doesn’t stop, and Jimin can’t either, no matter how broken he is. He still has bills, classes, work. When he returns to his part-time job the following week, his old boss stops mid-scolding, says no more, hands her the apron and leaves. No sermons. No comments. Just silence, the same silence that Jimin carries in his chest.

At college, it’s worse. Everyone stares. And Jimin thinks he deserves it. Not because they thought Jimin's thing with Yoongi was a business relationship. That's the stupidest bullshit he's ever heard and everyone who really believes, lacks brains. But because it ruined the most real and honest thing he had in his life.

He sees it in their eyes: mockery, fury, disgust. All of it. 

He deserves all of it. Especially from the upperclassmen who used to greet him with warm smiles. Now, when he passes them looking for Yoongi, all he gets is rage, like they all know he’s the reason Yoongi vanished. Not some stupid gossip post. Not school stress. Him. He’s the reason. And he can feel it, like every look is a punishment he can’t dodge.

When he crosses paths with Junyeom, Jimin finally sees him for what he’s always been. Something so insignificant that Jimin feels too stupid to even get angry. Why did he ever want to fit in with someone like him?  Why did he ever want to become trash like him?

The answers they get from Junyeom are just as disappointing. He was the one who started the rumor about Jungkook and Jimin, hoping it would make Yoongi break up with Jimin. Fueled by rage. Rage at Jimin for being the kind of guy Yoongi actually liked. 

For fitting Yoongi’s so-called “picky” standards. It was Junyeom who spread all those rumors about Yoongi, who made all those posts. Jimin almost laughs, thinking Yoongi isn't picky at all —he just doesn’t like assholes like Junyeom.

Sunmi had recorded Jimin on the night of the party. From day one, the only reason both of them got close to him was to use him and Jimin can’t even get mad anymore.  He just feels like the biggest idiot in the world. He doesn’t even bother asking why Sunmi would get involved in something so low. He knows. Some girls are blindly loyal to their gay friends, no matter what the consequences, thinking they are safe from meanness.

The next time Jimin saw them around, Junyeom had a black eye. Jimin feels he deserves one too.

None of this bullshit kills him though. Even when the worst rumors about Jimin start to circulate and Jimin gets a call from university management to be investigated for possible fraud. He doesn't even blink. 

The one who cuts through all the noise is Namjoon. Not angry. Not cruel. Just calm. Deeply and devastatingly disappointed.

“I really thought you were the one for him.” Namjoon says, before walking past without a second glance, like Jimin’s no one. 

Jimin doesn’t even make it to the bathroom before throwing up. 

That’s how much it hurts.

And then there’s Jungkook. Jimin sees him after he faints from not eating, not sleeping, not being. He wakes up in the campus infirmary with Jungkook standing over him. No words. Just that look— so heavy, so hollow, so sharp it makes Jimin’s stomach twist. 

He doesn’t speak. He can’t. All he does is lower his eyes, ashamed. 

Jimin notices Jungkook's hand full of wounds, and knows without asking that it was he who hit Junyeom.

Jungkook knows the truth, Namjoon told him.

“That was really cruel, Jimin-hyung” is all he says before walking away.

By now, there’s not a patch of skin left untouched on Jimin’s arms. His own nails leave marks he can’t hide, and when they start to hurt too much, he moves to his thighs. Every scratch is a failed attempt to hold himself together. His lips stay bloody from biting them raw, his knuckles bruised from where he grips too hard. He’s a mess. A walking wound.

Taehyung. God. Telling Taehyung is another type of pain. He can’t do it over video —he doesn’t have the strength to see his reaction— so he calls. Just a regular call. And Taehyung’s silence on the other end is crushing. Not angry. Just… disappointment. Jimin can’t breathe through it. 

Jimin wonders if his childhood friend thinks Jimin is no longer that loving, good boy he left behind.

And then one Friday, after his shift ends early, he thinks about going to Yoongi’s place. Just one last time. If he could speak to him. If he could explain. If Yoongi would just listen, maybe—

It’s 10 p.m. Not too late. He grabs his bag and goes.

No monologue he practices on the walk matters. Not if Yoongi won’t even open the door. But he tries anyway. Rings the bell. Waits. Hopes. Prays to something.

But no one answers.

His heart sinks and the tears rise up fast, too fast, and he collapses slowly to the floor, resting his back against the wall, chin trembling, shoulders shaking violently. His sobs echo in the hallway, wild and ugly. His thighs throb with the half-moon cuts left by his nails, but he can’t stop. He needs to feel something.

“Yoongi…” he manages to whisper once the storm passes. “Just let me talk to you once, hyung…” His forehead now presses against the door, voice breaking into nothing. “Just once, please…”

He knows he doesn’t deserve it. Not even this moment. But somehow, Yoongi is still better than him. Kinder.

Because that night, finally, the door opens.

“You’re not coming in. We can talk out here” Yoongi says sharply.

Jimin jerks forward, off balance from leaning against the door, barely catching himself on the floor. When he looks up, he sees him. The boy he loves. The boy he destroyed.

Yoongi looks different. Pale. Sick. Dark circles painting shadows under his eyes. His gaze is bloodshot and cold. And his hair—his beautiful pink hair—is gone. Now it’s jet black, like a final goodbye.

Jimin bites down on his lower lip so hard he tastes blood. He doesn’t say a word. He wants to tell him he’s still beautiful. That he looks good. That he’s missed him every second. But he doesn’t.

Because he knows.

Yoongi still looks like Yoongi. But the boy Jimin loves —his soft pink boy— is gone.

And from the way Yoongi looks at him now, unreadable but final, Jimin understands one thing clearly: This is goodbye. For real. Forever.

He’s never getting him back.

When Yoongi steps out of his apartment and sits on the hallway floor beside Jimin, he chooses to stay far, too far to touch, too far to comfort. Jimin doesn't dare to look at him. He stares down at his hands, fingers twisting the hem of his sleeve.

“When I started college this year… I wasn’t exactly in a healthy mental place” he begins, voice fragile, fraying at the edges. “I don’t think I’ve ever really been, honestly. But especially not when this year started.”

His hands tremble slightly. His shoulders are hunched, trying to make himself smaller.

“I think I’ve always felt kind of… alone. Like I’ve spent my whole life just craving validation. Being myself never really worked out for me, so when I changed majors, I thought maybe if I was a little more likeable, maybe I could fix the loneliness somehow.”

His voice breaks halfway through the sentence, but he keeps going, even as tears begin rolling silently down his cheeks.

“I don’t know exactly what I was trying to do or why… but it kind of worked. Junyeom, Sunmi, Jaehyun, Heejin, Jibum… they all just adopted me like it was nothing. And when I look back, I can see what they really wanted from me. I always knew they were a little off but I wanted to belong so badly. I just wanted friends. I wanted to be like everyone else.”

He wipes at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, still not daring to glance Yoongi’s way.

“You know… I’ve never figured out what’s wrong with me. People always leave. For no real reason. Even my own parents: they stopped talking to me because I changed careers. And I’ve always had this stupid, pathetic hope that one day someone will just tell me. Like, ‘Hey Jimin, it’s this and this about you. That’s why no one stays.’”

He lets out a soft, bitter laugh at himself, shaking his head.

“I know that sounds ridiculous… but I’ve always had faith someone would explain it to me. Anyway, I started acting a little different, and things got a bit better. I turned myself into a performer. Always pretending. Always performing. But Junyeom and the others… they’re not easy people to be around. And after a while, I started to feel irritated. Especially with Junyeom.”

His tone sharpens just a bit.

“I don’t like him. I think it’s because he saw right through me. He knew I didn’t belong there. That day was awful. Everything went wrong. And when I got to the party, I didn’t even look for them. I just needed a break from them. and everything. And a stupid amount of alcohol.”

He exhales shakily, pressing his palm flat against the floor as if grounding himself.

“I ended up dancing with some stranger, I don’t remember his name, but he was apparently the host. I remember he laughed and said he’d never seen me before but was glad I snuck in. And I laughed too, because that’s exactly my life. Not belonging, always sneaking in, hoping someone likes me anyway.”

He finally lifts his eyes, just for a moment, to glance at Yoongi— his chest tightens at the stiff line of Yoongi’s jaw.

“He said I ‘fit in so well’ at the party. But I didn’t. I kissed him. I was drunk, and I was lonely. Then his friends called him, and he left. And not long after, Sunmi and the rest found me.”

Jimin sniffles, tears still falling freely.

“Junyeom always had this habit of putting his arms around me, and I hated it. I didn’t like him. I didn’t want his attention. The night felt ruined the moment they showed up. And honestly, I don’t even know why I stayed.”

He pulls his knees up to his chest now, forehead resting lightly on them.

“At some point, they started talking about you. And I didn’t care, you know? I wasn’t interested in knowing if you were… or weren’t. But they had other plans. I see it now… how they twisted everything, made a bet about whether I had the guts to ask you out.”

“I didn’t. But I wanted to prove I could. It wasn’t about you. It was about my fake ego, this thing I’d spent so long performing— trying so hard. I just didn’t want to look weak in front of them. I didn’t even think. I just said yes.”

He swallows hard.

“I wasn’t even drunk anymore, I’d sobered up from being around them and drinking water. But after I said yes, I regretted it instantly. I remember going to the bathroom to splash water on my face. Then I downed a ton of tequila just to find the courage.”

He looks down at his lap, voice shrinking.

“When I walked toward that balcony, I was praying the whole time that I wasn’t your type. Like, please— say you like tall, muscular guys.” He laughs under his breath, but it’s hollow. “And when I got there, it was empty. I thought maybe I could leave.”

He dares to meet Yoongi’s eyes again.

“But you came, hyung. And you were so warm. And I was so greedy. Just for that night, I wanted a little of that warmth. You didn’t know me, but you handed me a drink, and said things that to most people would be casual but to me, they were comforting.”

“I felt guilty the whole time sitting there with you… but I wanted more of you. And I thought, I won’t hurt anyone, right? If we never see each other again? Just like that party host. Just another face at another party.”

“But the chemistry… it was too strong. And for a second I let myself think, maybe, in different circumstances, I could’ve actually asked you out. But I also knew, in different circumstances, I never would’ve had the courage. I guess… I’m no different from Junyeom.”

“That’s why I ran out of your house the next day. I realized what I’d done. But when you found me in the music room… god, you were addictive. I wanted to know you. Even though I knew I shouldn’t. And then you remembered the date.”

“I tried to play it cool. I thought, just be the real Jimin and he’ll leave. But you didn’t. You stayed.”

He wipes his face again, fingers trembling.

“You know when you feed a stray cat, and then they never leave? That was me. I didn’t want to let you go. Every moment together I kept thinking, ‘You have to tell him, Jimin.’ But I couldn’t. I was scared of losing you.”

“And I kept telling myself things like, ‘ignorance is bliss.’ That if you didn’t know, and eventually you left me, then what was the point of telling you at all?”

“But then I fell in love with you. And suddenly you were the inspiration behind every song. You became the light in my life, even if I didn’t deserve you. I got lost in you: in your kisses, in your bed, in your light. A light too bright for someone like me.”

“It’s unfair. I know that. If anyone has shown me what a good person looks like: it’s you. So when you asked about the scars on my arms, that was the first time something shifted in my head. I thought, ‘If I explain it, maybe he’ll forgive me.’”

“But then that week was hell. We were busy. But I was going to tell you. That Friday, I swore I would. But then I got to the campus and people were saying those horrible rumors— that you’d done my assignment for me.”

He bites his lower lip, angry with himself now.

“I panicked. I thought Junyeom might say something. And sure enough, when classes ended, he was there waiting.”

“They told me I’d done it on purpose. I told them only people like them would twist it that way. They said I’d talked about what I was getting out of this. I told them we all say shit we don’t mean. And I told them you knew because I didn’t want them telling you.”

“But it didn’t matter. You found out from them anyway.”

His voice drops to a whisper.

“It’s okay if you hate me, hyung. I deserve it. But I wanted you to know that I did love you. That even though I didn’t approach you with good intentions, all that garbage fell away the moment I saw you.”

“I was just never strong enough to tell you. And now I’m living with the consequences.”

He leans his head back against the wall, throat raw.

“Just… please. Don’t forget that I love you too much. And I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t have the courage to tell you sooner.”

The silence afterward is deafening.

Jimin keeps crying quietly. What else can he do?

So he cries. Until his shoulders shake and the tears soak his sleeves. Until twenty minutes pass and Yoongi still hasn’t said a word.

And Jimin sits there, just waiting to see if Yoongi will speak… or simply stand up and go back inside without a single word.

“I think I can see where you’re coming from…” Yoongi breaks the silence. “It hurts that you always think the worst of yourself. It hurts that you stayed silent. It hurts that you sabotaged us like this…”

Jimin bites his already wounded lips, the taste of blood now mixing with the tears he can’t stop shedding.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.  I think you’ve just had the shittiest luck.” Yoongi sobs, his chest heaving.  “But... even knowing all this, I can’t forgive you, Jimin. Why would I? If you lied to me about this, what else would you lie about? You’ve been lying to me from the start.”

Yoongi allows himself to break down, tears falling freely now. “It’s so unfair, Jimin. Because if you had just told me, it would’ve been different. Even that first night… if you had just said, ‘I made a stupid bet to ask you out and now I regret it’ I would’ve probably made a dumb joke like, ‘Tell me who, so I can thank them.’”

Jimin starts crying again, quickly bringing his hand up to his face, trying to hide the raw vulnerability. His shoulders shake as the sobs wrack his body.

He’s an idiot. He’s such an idiot.

“So I guess this is it. This is the end for us.” Yoongi’s words feel like they’re tearing Jimin apart. “I… know Junyeom did all of this because he’s jealous. I guess it was easier for him to believe that I wasn’t bi than to accept that I didn’t like him.”

Jimin’s body trembles as he speaks between his sobs, his voice barely audible. “Since they started mentioning your name, I always felt like he was looking at me differently. I think he feared you might like me… and I hate that I fell into their twisted games. But I can’t blame them. I was shitty too.”

“I guess he knows me well…” Yoongi murmurs.

The silence wraps around them like a suffocating blanket, thick and heavy.

“I always thought the whole queerbaiting idea was ridiculous. Who would want to fake being queer in this shitty country?” Jimin says, his words sharp, bitter.

“You always told me from day one that it was just a ridiculous rumor…”  Yoongi admits quietly, his eyes looking down.  “Too bad you never told me the rest.”

Jimin wants to say something, to explain, but nothing comes out. His throat is tight. His whole body is tight.

Then, Yoongi stands up, and Jimin’s heart sinks at the finality in the motion. Yoongi turns to face him, his eyes cold, though they’re still filled with unshed tears.

“I can’t take you back…” Yoongi’s voice cracks, and even through the pain, it’s clear he’s still trying to hold himself together. 

Jimin finally notices it. What makes Yoongi’s eyes so beautiful: It’s the double eyelid on one eye and the lack of it on the other.

He smiles bitterly.

Jimin is always slow. 

“You ruined us, Jimin” Yoongi holds his gaze a moment longer. There’s something else in his eyes now. Exhaustion. Pain. A kind of muted resentment. “I can’t– I don’t want a us anymore.”

Jimin’s lips tremble uncontrollably, and he fights the urge to break down completely. His whole body feels like it’s going to crumble beneath the weight of Yoongi’s words.

“You know what hurts the most?” he says, voice low, broken. “That you made me feel special. Like finally, someone saw me, not for what I can make or write, but for me. And now it all feels tainted. Like every smile, every kiss, every song… was part of some performance.”

Jimin covers his mouth, as if he can trap the cry clawing its way out of his chest.

Yoongi shakes his head with a laugh that doesn’t hold any joy. “And the worst part is… I still love you. And I hate it. It disgusts me that I can’t hate you like I should.”

He pauses. Just breathing. Then softly:

“You didn’t ruin us by what you did… you ruined us because you had so many chances to choose us. And you never did.”

He deserves this. He deserves worse words. He deserves Yoongi’s cruelty.

But Yoongi is too kind. He simply nods once, a final, heart-wrenching gesture, before turning around and walking back into his apartment. The door closes softly behind him, leaving Jimin standing there, shattered.

Jimin slowly rises, his eyes clouded with tears. He stumbles toward the stairs, the weight of everything pressing down on him. As he walks he can’t help but let out a laugh, but it soon breaks into a desolate cry.

Everything good in his life goes too fast, and he never fights for it. But when for the first time he did it, he still couldn't make it linger.

It's a cynical thing about his life. 

He is the one to blame for all of this, as always.

Jimin cries all the way home.

He cries at night and in the mornings.

He cries when he goes to the supermarket and sees white chocolates.

He cries when he leaves work at 3 in the morning and no one is waiting for him.

He cries when he passes by a store and sees plaid shirts.

He cries when he was proven not guilty after Yoongi justified on his favor one day that Jimin was unable to attend college.

He cries when he sees notebooks and pens.

He cries when he sees Yoongi from a distance on campus, his heart screaming, and he cries even harder when he realizes Yoongi won’t be there anymore because Yoongi graduates.

He cries when he sees photos of Namjoon on Instagram, congratulating Yoongi, and when Jungkook posts a picture celebrating him, a public recognition of all the things Jimin lost.

He cries when Jungkook looks for him one day and sits next to him in class again.

He cries when Namjoon gives him a nod from afar.

He cries when he writes songs, and he cries when he sings them.

He cries when Seokjin prepares a homemade meal for him.

He cries when Hoseok invites him to dance, and he realizes he never showed Yoongi his moves, never had the chance to share that side of himself with him.

He cries when Taehyung starts texting him again asking how he’s doing.

He cries when he buys his first pack of cigarettes, and the empty space where Yoongi should’ve been next to him gnaws at his chest. 

He cries when he finishes the pack, because it doesn’t fill the emptiness.

He cries when he sees the name “MIN SUGA” on TV, in the credits of a sad song. 

He cries while wishing him even more success.

He cries when he goes to buy sheets, and he picks yellow ones because they remind him of the warmth Yoongi gave him, even if just for a little while.

He cries when his parents look for him, a year later, and his mother kisses him on the forehead like she’s trying to fix everything with that one gesture, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

He cries when he sees Junyeom become a popular idol, adored by everyone, with his angelic smile.

He cries when he graduates, and a professor offers him the so-called recommendations, and he cries when he turns them down.

He cries when he tattoos the number 7 on his finger, seven months they were together, seven years it might take him to heal, seven lives he would give just to get back, seven calls Junyeom made to Yoongi that day, seven spikes hammered into his brain of what could have been.

He cries when he decides not to be a composer and starts a small local band that plays in Seoul’s bars, singing all the songs he wrote about Yoongi.

He cries when he goes to a therapist, admitting that he doesn’t think he’ll ever move on, but he’s learned to live with his mistake. Without Yoongi.

He cries every time he shares a bed with someone else, but none of them compare to what he felt with Yoongi.

He cries when he recognizes all the songs that are hits and were written by the famous Min Suga.

He cries when he realizes that so many of those songs are about him.

He cries when he sees the damage he caused, the anger, the hate, all the emotions he stirred in Yoongi.

He cries when he hears the groups that Yoongi writes for singing about getting over it. Moving on.

And he cries when Cotton —the song the song that Yoongi heard him playing in the music room that day— goes viral in Korea.

The song that started it all.

The first song he ever wrote about him.

The song whose lyrics he changed, made just a little sadder —because he couldn’t bear to stain it completely with his sorrow—

But it was, and will always, forever, be about Yoongi.

💛💛

Yoongi is here against his will.

It’s a bar in Seoul that’s been gaining popularity fast.

Yoongi doesn’t know all the details but his colleagues just dragged him along.

Apparently, there’s a band here with a singer whose voice is too beautiful, singing songs that hurt too much.

Several staff from the company are scattered around, pretending it’s casual, but Yoongi knows better. They’re scouting. Hunting.

He guesses it’s to see what’s trending. What sells.

Yoongi orders a whiskey, feeling that sour twist in his stomach he can’t shake.

Not because he’s a party pooper —like he’s been accused of before— but because something feels wrong.

Like the universe is holding its breath, waiting for something to crash into him.

He can’t leave, though.

Because that’s how the music world works and connections matter, trends matter, appearances matter.

Going out for drinks once in a while is practically written in invisible ink on his contract.

Especially nights like this, where they come to hunt down what’s viral and package it up into something shiny and new.

It’s ugly, sometimes.

Taking the ideas of small artists, of real creatives, just to hand them over to someone bigger with a better smile.

Yoongi doesn’t do that.

He makes songs he wants to make, with the ideas he has.

He never takes from others— especially not from those whose reach isn’t as wide as his.

Which makes it pointless for him to be here.

Still, he tries to make the best of it: sips his drink, chuckles at jokes, glances at his phone.

But that gnawing feeling won’t go away.

And then he understands.

The feeling. The weight in his gut. The breath he keeps holding without noticing.

Because stepping onto the impromptu stage is none other than Park Jimin.

Yoongi’s heart lurches violently, knocking the air from his chest.

Jimin looks… different.

He’s thinner now which makes him look taller, the years carving him into something that hurts to look at. Black hair spilling across his forehead like a sin.

He’s dressed in a black suit that clings to him just right, no shirt underneath, just a vest buttoned loosely enough that a sliver of chest teases the eye.

A gold necklace catches the light as he moves.

Yoongi forgets to breathe.

Jimin bows politely, accepts a guitar from a bandmate, and adjusts the strap over his shoulder.

There are no flashy introductions. No dramatics.

They just start playing.

And Yoongi can’t tear his eyes away.

His voice, his charisma, his face, his hair, his lips, his songs—

Yoongi feels like the twenty-two-year-old kid he used to be, utterly consumed by him.

“Watch me go. Now, I sink down, all alone away” Yoongi hears the words and feels the weight behind them. “Where am I? A dark haze clouding up my eyes”

Jimin winks at the audience as he finishes the line.

And with every second that passes, Yoongi sinks deeper into the feeling.

“I’d rather be lost in the lights, lost in the lights, I’m outta my mind”

Yoongi gasps, recognizing the song. His hands tighten around his glass.

“Can you help me numb the pain? Each night, you spin me up high, emotions on ice, let me have a taste”

The memory flashes: Jimin, so many years ago, telling Yoongi he had been his light while crying.

Jimin is mesmerizing.

Alive.

Gorgeous.

And hurting.

“I need a way we can dream on, oh no baby” His small fingers strum the guitar patiently, and his voice is as sweet as honey.

Jimin’s fingers dance over the guitar strings with practiced ease. His voice is pure honey.

He moves his body with the music —smooth, sensual— and the crowd eats it up.

But Yoongi notices something else: the songs.

They’re about regret. About losing someone. About fucking up. 

Every song sounds heartbreakingly personal, and Yoongi can’t ignore how much they feel like… him. Them.

After several songs, Jimin finally introduces himself.

“Hello! We are Muse!” he says sweetly. “My name is Jimin, and I’m happy to be performing in front of you tonight.”

His bandmates introduce themselves too, but Yoongi barely hears them.

His whole body is focused on Jimin.

Jimin announces the next song, smiling so sincerely it hurts.

“This is a song I wrote a couple of years ago” he says excitedly. “I made a lot of mistakes when I was young. I ruined a lot of beautiful things because of my carelessness, and I ended up disappointing a lot of people I loved. I was a bit dumb” He smiles sweetly, and the audience reacts with a collective laugh.

Jimin is still just as adorable, still has the same effect on people even if he doesn’t know it. 

“When I decided to sit down and see what I was doing with my life, I realized that a pattern in my actions is the lack of love for myself. I never had an enemy as strong as I was to myself.”

Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek.

That’s true.

No one ever hated Jimin more than Jimin hated himself.

“So I wrote this song for myself. To remind me not to be so hard on myself, and I hope this song can bring comfort to anyone who might need it tonight.” He says kindly.

He’s changed so much. Of course, the years don’t pass in vain, but Yoongi genuinely enjoys seeing how much he’s worked on himself.

He smiles again, and the music starts.

“I'm sitting alone, only my mind wanders. Since when did you start hurting me? See, you don’t even know”

Yoongi sits frozen, barely breathing.

This song is different— stripped down, more acoustic. Raw. It takes a lot of courage to open himself up to the world like this. 

That night, Yoongi can’t interact with his colleagues anymore. He doesn’t care if they laugh at him later. Tonight, he wants to see the Jimin he left behind all those years ago.

“I want you to be your light, baby. You should be your light.”

It’s a huge leap where Yoongi was once the light of his life, as Jimin himself said, to Jimin wanting to be his own light.

He’s a Jimin who’s learned from the scars of his life.

The song ends and another begins.

Yoongi doesn’t know how many minutes he’s spent sitting there, completely focused on everything Jimin is, but it was all worth it.

And then, when he thinks his heart can’t take more, a familiar chord rings out.

Jimin grins.

“This was the first song I finished by myself” Jimin says proudly, continuing to play the same three chords. “Someone suggested I space out the chords more, but other than that, everything is mine. The lyrics have changed a little since then, but it’s still very special to me.”

Yoongi’s heart slams against his ribs.

He knows this song.

“It’s gotten really viral lately. I hope you like it.” 

He winks at the crowd and begins to play. And Jimin sings.

Every word. Live. Raw.

“You and I lasted less than a house of cards in a hurricane”   These were lyrics Jimin never showed him. “ Like a flower in the winter, like ice in the desert, like my will to live when you’re not here”

His harmonic voice follows the same melody from years ago.

Yoongi’s throat tightens.

“Your perfume when you got in the car”

Yoongi’s lips curl into a small smile. He used to borrow his father’s car and spray his perfume when he discovered Jimin loved his scent.

“The song of your alarm clock”

It used to be an Epik High song that Jimin rolled his eyes at every time it played.

“Kissing you and it tasted like cigarettes”

When Jimin found out he smoked and got a bit upset, and then he accepted it anyway.

“The silhouette you left on my bed”

Yoongi feels every memory come rushing back. Late nights. Secret smiles.

Jimin always had an affinity for the yellow sheets on Yoongi’s bed. He wonders if that has anything to do with it.

“I’d turn back time…” He sings the chorus, and it’s the same melody, but the lyrics are different. “Lying on your skin soft as cotton. Good, good, good, I felt good when you loved me”

Jimin always told him his skin was like cotton.

His hips sway playfully, flirting with the crowd, but the sadness bleeds through.

“Lying on your skin soft as cotton. Good, good, good, I felt good when you loved me”

Yoongi’s chest aches.

He notices it’s not “when we love each other” anymore. It’s “when you loved me.”

“If I call you now and we go dance? Then if you want, forget me again”

Jimin never showed him how he danced, but he expressed a desire to go dance with him. Could it be one of his biggest regrets too?

“Cover me with your body, let’s see who comes first” Yoongi chuckles lightly. They used to have those silly competitions, those playful moments trying to make the other feel good. “Climb up the Tower of Babel right away, even if the whole hotel floor falls apart”

That constant fear of a neighbor complaining and the excitement it brought them.

Risking everything. Living for those moments.

“I can’t stop time, but I can do it slow” Jimin changes his tone a bit: sensual and whiny and the crowd screams as Jimin flirts shamelessly.

Yoongi can barely keep breathing.

“You’re not with me anymore, and we’re not friends, but when you cross my path, I feel empty” His voice is a bit desperate now.

The last two months of Yoongi in university, how uncomfortable Jimin would get when passing near him, pretending nothing hurt.

“You’re not with me anymore, and we’re not friends, but when you cross my path, I feel the cold”  

The way Yoongi used to look at him —like Jimin had ripped out his heart— everything was so fresh, and Yoongi was so hurt.

“I’d turn back time, lying on your skin soft as cotton” The chorus repeats twice, and Jimin takes the opportunity to flirt with the audience— a little wink, exaggerating his lips.

“I felt good, How I miss you” The note is long and a little high but the desperation is there and makes the audience feel every word.

His bandmates whisper-sing “I miss you, it hurts me” and Jimin stays focused on playing the guitar, nodding his head to the rhythm.

“You and I lasted less than a house of cards in a hurricane” It’s the last line, and the song ends.

“Thank you very much!” Jimin says, smiling at the crowd.

The crowd explodes into applause.

Jimin beams at them all.

He bows deeply with his bandmates, waves goodbye and that’s when it happens. Their eyes meet.

And Jimin’s smile falters.

He blinks rapidly— once, twice, three times.

Jimin has always been the type to blink a lot. Every time he did it, Yoongi would have the overwhelming urge to bite his cheeks.

Yoongi feels something old and reckless waking up inside him.

He excuses himself from the table.

Orders two mojitos at the bar and waits, ignoring the odd looks from his colleagues.

Minutes drag by and he wonders if he imagined it.

If he made a fool of himself.

Then, that sweet, familiar voice reaches him.

“It’s really you.”

Yoongi turns, smiling genuinely for the first time all night.

“It’s me.

THE END.