Chapter Text
Jimin was finishing up with the last customer and couldn't wait to head to the beach to hang out with his new friends.
He had never made friends so quickly, but he was grateful not to be alone anymore.
As soon as he frothed the milk for the cappuccino, his mom spoke up:
“So, you’ve made some new friends, Jimin?” She was smiling; she was happy for him, too.
“Yeah, Mom,” Jimin smiled back.
“I saw you talking to the Min boy, in particular.”
Jimin’s thoughts turned to Yoongi. He found him to be a very… unusual guy.
He always acted impassive. He seemed cold as ice, but Jimin had figured him out. He realized that Yoongi actually felt emotions—and likely felt them much more rawly and intensely than other people did.
It hadn't been hard for him to notice that detail about his new friend; it only took a shred of empathy, and Jimin had that in spades.
“Yeah, he’s nice.”
He handed the cappuccino to the customer and started taking off his apron.
“I’m glad you like him! You’re heading to the beach now, right?”
“Yeah—why? Do you need help with another order?” Jimin paused before fully removing his work uniform.
“No, no. You just need to let Yoongi know about the decision his father made regarding him. He told me he wouldn't speak to his son himself and asked if you could do it instead.”
---
The beach was packed. It was a scorching Saturday, so there was no better way to spend the time than by taking a nice dip in the refreshing sea water.
The guys were happy and carefree—especially Yoongi.
He was happy to have made up with Jimin. He felt like a slightly better person.
He had everything under control.
It was pleasant under the beach umbrella. The breeze was warm, yet it still felt refreshing.
His friends were sitting in a circle, playing UNO!.
Every now and then, a shout of frustration would ring out from someone forced to draw extra cards, drifting further away from victory.
Hoseok had played a blue 3. Now it was the mint-haired boy’s turn.
But he was so lost in the quiet of his own thoughts that he didn't notice.
He was thinking about how, soon, he would see those eyes again—the eyes of the young man he had finally managed to look at without fear today. Nothing bad had happened.
He had noticed a detail he found incredibly cute: when Jimin smiled, his eyes would crinkle and curve upward until they were almost closed. Yoongi wondered if he could actually see anything when his eyes were like that.
Kookie’s hand waving in front of his face snapped him back to reality.
Hoseok was watching him with curiosity. They had known each other for so many years that Hoseok had probably figured out exactly what he was thinking about so intensely.
Jungkook started playfully patting his cheek.
"Damn, Hyung, what’s up with you today? Your head’s in the clouds."
Yoongi blushed, praying no one had noticed.
“I’m just tired. Leave me alone.”
He took the maknae’s hand and pulled it away from his face, then picked a card from the deck and slapped it onto the table with a sharp motion.
Taehyung drew his second-to-last card and then turned away, distracted by two pretty girls walking past them while giggling. When he realized he had only one card left, he shouted, “UNOOOOOOO!”
The members shouted back at him almost in unison, “That doesn’t count! Draw two cards!”
The boy looked shocked... “And why should I, huh?”
Nam reminded him of the rules with a smug, superior air: “You said UNO too late, asshole. If you’d stopped checking out those girls' asses, you might have actually won. Now shut up and don’t argue.” The leader grabbed two cards from the deck and flung them in his face.
Everyone burst out laughing.
In the distance, Yoongi heard another laugh—one he had started to recognize. He turned and saw Jimin.
He waved and even gave him a small smile.
Hoseok, of course, noticed and chuckled to himself. Had his best friend actually smiled?!
“Hey, Jimin!” Jin stood up, leaving his cards on his towel. Jungkook naturally took advantage of the moment to silently peek at Jin’s hand. While he was bent over, Tae gave his ass a resounding smack that made him yelp.
Amidst the laughter, Taehyung called out, "Hi Jimin!" and was met with a warm smile.
Hoseok got up and placed a hand on the newcomer's shoulder. "Come on, Jiminnie, sit here on my towel. I’m fucking done playing; I’m going for a dip. Go ahead and take my deck of cards—play for me
"Okay, thanks, hyung."
The older boy didn't hear him, though, as he had already plunged into the water with a loud shout.
Yoongi knew his friend had gone swimming just to get Jimin to sit next to him. He didn't know whether to thank him or punch him in the head. Or maybe a smack on the ass would be better?
"Hi, Jimin-ah."
"Hi, hyung. Long time no see, huh?"
Yoongi giggled and fiddled with the cards in his deck.
"Well, if you two want to play lovebirds, just let us know so we can keep playing by ourselves," Tae said—always one to exaggerate.
"Do you hear yourself?" Jin playfully smacked the back of his head.
The "victim" turned to Nam. "Dad! Mom hit me!"
"If you don't stop this family roleplay, I'm going to hit you too."
"Sorry, Dad. I won't do it again."
Everyone burst out laughing—except for Tae, who was yelling in pain from the leader's smack; once again, it had knocked his grandmother's glasses right onto the ground.
The turn continued. Jimin was uncomfortably close to Yoongi. The boy felt uneasy.
He could see his friend’s abs all too clearly. He watched his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.
Too many details.
Yoongi felt like his heart would explode if he stayed that close to him; it was already beating faster than usual.
He revealed his cards and stood up abruptly. Then, with a burst of speed he’d never shown before, he ran and dove into the water alongside his best friend.
“What the fuck are you doing, Hoseok, huh? Why did you walk away?”
“First, let’s talk about how your head’s been in the clouds since we got back from the bar—how you smiled at Jimin’s shitty joke, how visibly uncomfortable you were standing next to him, and how you kept staring at his abs...”
“Shhh, fuck, keep your voice down, asshole.”
“Yoongi, I’ve known you a long time.”
“And...?”
“And... I really think you’ve got a crush on the new guy.”
...
“A-a crush?”
“Bro, look... you just stuttered. It’s obvious. You’re kinda cute hoplessly in love, you know?”
“Hoseok, do you realize the massive bullshit you just spouted? I’m never falling in love with anyone again. You get that? What happened last year can’t happen again.”
“Jimin is definitely different from Ki-woo.”
...
“Hoseok, for fuck’s sake, stop it.”
Yoongi’s voice rose so sharply that the group under the umbrellas thought they were fighting. Namjoon hurriedly stood up and went over to them; everyone knew the young man could get dangerous when he was angry.
“It’s fine, don’t worry.” The mint-haired boy stepped out of the water and headed toward the snack bar. He needed to be alone for a while. The other boys saw him but decided to stay put and not interfere.
Except for one.
---
A crush.
No. Impossible.
He didn't do emotions.
The boy tried to calm himself: "Shit, Yoongi, get a grip. Breathe."
Inside...
Outside.
At a certain point, the anger subsided and gave way to another emotion. Fear was starting to settle in his chest.
"A beer, please."
...
"Two beers, please."
...
Yoongi turned around.
Jimin was standing next to him, looking at him curiously, then giving him a tight-lipped smile.
"Why the fuck did you follow me?"
...
"Look, hyung, do you have a problem with me, or is it just an attitude you have with everyone?"
"What do you mean?"
The two beers arrived.
"It seems like you don't want to be around me. I know I'm new to the group, but it almost seems like my presence makes you uncomfortable, do you understand?"
Jimin waited for a response from the other. One that didn't come.
As he chugged his beer, Yoongi noticed his heart. It was pounding. He was drowning in an ocean of fear.
He felt Jimin's presence pressing down on him. As if the weight of the entire universe were crushing the base of his neck.
His fingers were trembling. When he realized it, he gripped the neck of the bottle tighter.
Without even meaning to, his eyes searched the other boy's.
It was wrong. He shouldn't have. Yet they had moved on their own.
…
There it was again. That feeling.
The feeling he had experienced a year ago.
This time, amplified.
Much more amplified.
And then, those endless dark brown eyes.
A few shades darker than the gaze he had fallen in love with the year before.
…
The bitter taste of the beer spread through his chest more slowly than expected, creating a sort of ache in his upper back.
He was drinking too fast.
He had downed a beer in ten seconds.
Without rushing, he took out the money and left it on the counter next to the green glass bottle.
Then he turned and walked away.
…
A warm hand, however, grabbed his wrist. His heart lurched and his stomach twisted.
“Fuck, Hyung, if I’m the problem, just tell me. I’ll stay out of your way.”
“Let go of me.”
Yoongi didn’t say "please."
The grip didn’t loosen.
“Jimin, let me go, for fuck’s sake.”
The grip still didn’t loosen.
“Okay, you want to know?” Yoongi didn’t even wait for an answer. “You’re the problem. Stay away from me.”
Finally, his wrist was released, but at what cost?
Yoongi ran to the beach, gathered his things, and—without offering an explanation—headed back home.
He was furious.
He just couldn't handle it.
He was a fucking loser.
His fate was written and clear by now: he had developed a *massive* crush on Park fucking Jimin, and he didn't know how to shake it.
He was usually excellent at suppressing his emotions. So why was it so hard to put an end to these budding feelings for someone?
What was different this time?
Maybe what made it so hard were those deep brown eyes that had shown they could read him so well after just two days together.
Or maybe it was that perfect, athletic body contrasting with such a delicate, feminine face.
Maybe it was his pink lips.
Or maybe Yoongi was just a fool.
A hormone-fueled queer teenager.
---
He arrived home, but before he could retreat to his room, his mother called him into the kitchen.
“Where’s Dad?”
The question was ignored.
“Did Mrs. Park’s son tell you?”
It couldn't be. Jimin was hounding him everywhere.
“No...?”
“You aren’t mentally stable enough to handle a knife.”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“You heard me. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to work at the café.”
It was all a nightmare, right?
It had to be.
“No.”
“You’re a disappointment to this family.”
his mom started raising her voice.
“I’m not going to the café.”
The boy started to walk toward his room.
His mother grabbed his arm.
Her grip was tight. She was squeezing like a beast.
“Let go of me.”
“You don’t give *me* orders, do you understand?” A loud slap across the cheek.
Then another.
“I hate you. I knew I shouldn’t have gone through with the pregnancy.”
“You’re a mistake I should have erased while I still had the chance.”
Yoongi was in shock. Frozen. Motionless.
Something inside him snapped.
he would make that bitch feel bad.
He ran to the bathroom and grabbed every pill he could find.
He went down to the cellar and retrieved the bottle of Gocce Imperiali (author’s note: “Gocce Imperiali” is the strongest Italian alcholic, with an alcohol content of 92%).
He went into the kitchen and started taking all the pills right in front of his mother, then drinking the alcohol.
“Yoongi, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m freeing you from the burden of having given birth to me, right?”
Yoongi had nothing left to lose.
No one would come looking for him if his plan wouldn't go in the right way.
The alcohol burned in his chest.
His eyes stung.
His heart ached, but he wanted revenge.
His mother tried to stop him but failed.
Pill after pill, sip after sip.
“You’ll be happy without me, right?”
Another sip.
“Yoongi, please stop. I’m sorry.” His mother was on her knees, begging for help, unable to move.
“You said you hate me, didn't you? That you don't want me. I have nothing to lose. It makes no difference to me if I die today or in seventy years.”
He felt sleepy, and his head was spinning.
Yoongi used every last bit of breath in his lungs to scream, “I hope you feel like a shitty mother; after everything you put me through, I wouldn't be surprised if my own son killed himself right in front of my eyes.”
…
Blackness.