Work Text:
Park Jimin brushed his hands over the smooth white paint of the corridor leading to the Genius Lab as he had done every night for the past two weeks.
"Hyung! I'm here!" Jimin called out to the sweet boy inside. With an infectious smile, his hands moved from the wall into his soft blonde hair as he waited for Yoongi to open the door. He imagined him inside, curled up as he worked on a fiery rap track. He knew he’d be too warm and too comfortable to want to move, so he waited patiently for the metallic sounds of the door opening.
Jimin ambled into the warmly lit studio with an even bigger smile than before. The studio was filled with a soft yellow glow emanating from the strings of the delicate autumn lights that Yoongi had hung up. Jimin didn’t know it, but the older boy only put them on when he was around.
The singer planted himself on the recliner perched in the corner of the cosy room. Jimin usually waited for Yoongi to start talking. He knew he was busy, and that was alright. He never got bored. He never once looked down at his nails or ran his hands through his hair. He just watched him. Press buttons. Change a chord progression. Add an extra beat or overtone. And every time he did, Jimin didn’t see him as The Genius, he saw him as Min Yoongi. The man underneath it all. The soft man who lived for his music because it was the only thing that kept him sane.
Yoongi twirled around in his chair to face Jimin, who had just finished messaging Taehyung reminding him why he couldn’t play video games with him tonight. The two boys talked about menial things for a while, no one going out of their way to make extravagant jokes. Yoongi still smiled widely and Jimin still threw his head back in laughter at regular intervals. They were perfectly comfortable.
"Jiminie, I have something I want you to hear. But you have to tell me exactly what you think. Don't be nice. Okay?"
Jimin agreed, thinking that anything Yoongi made would be perfect, but not saying it out loud.
Yoongi rolled his chair next to his keyboard and his extra-long sleeves up to his elbows, exposing the striking paleness of his hands that looked oddly beautiful and gentle under the glow of the fall lights above him. He started playing.
Jimin didn't have time to think about what was happening before he fell utterly in love. There were no words to the song but Jimin knew exactly what it was about. He felt it as he watched Yoongi's beautiful fingers dance across the keyboard as if they were the ones performing. He absorbed each note he heard and every time he tried to predict what would come next, he was wrong. Yoongi played the complete opposite. And it was perfect.
Finally, Yoongi finished. His dancers left the stage and he turned to face Jimin with an almost childlike anticipation.
"Are you crying because it's good or bad?" Yoongi asked.
Jimin was startled. He knew that was a joke but there was not a single piece of him that could understand how the man in front him could not see just how brilliant he was or how he could genuinely doubt himself. He couldn't comprehend how he was able to create something so artistic, so beautiful, and not even realise it. Jimin didn't even realise he was crying.
The two boys just stared at each other. Yoongi trying to figure Jimin out, and Jimin deep in thought.
He would have loved to tell him everything in his mind. Everything. He would have loved to praise him and tell him how he was the most talented and inspiring person he knew. But he knew he wouldn't believe him.
"What's the name of that?” was all he said.
"Is it good enough to have a name?"
Jimin wanted to throw his chair at him. How could he not see that that was the most beautiful thing he'd ever made?
They stared a little longer.
"If you write the lyrics to it, can I sing it?"
Yoongi smiled. It was subtle but it was enough to show that he was happy because he knew Jimin liked it. He trusted Jimin's opinion more than anyone's and if he liked it, it was good. It was more than good.
They spent the evening writing lyrics together, Jimin sitting on the arm of Yoongi's chair, almost leaning into him as he worked. Yoongi didn't mind. Jimin was warm enough to make him fine with the slight skinship, enjoy it even. They worked all night and by the end of it all, Jimin was laying on the floor with Yoongi’s head resting comfortably on his lap, a polished song in his hands.
"What shall we name it, hyung?"
"I have an idea but it's pretty dumb."
They locked eyes and Yoongi didn't wait for Jimin to ask. "Serendipity," he said.