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Sunflowers.
Jimin had always dreamed of being married in a field of sunflowers, ever since he was a young boy. Yoongi used to tease him that it would be too hard to find him because he would blend right in with the flowers. It was the reason that ‘Sunflower’ was Yoongi’s nickname for Jimin. Of course, Jimin would puff his chubby cheeks out and fake pout, but he was never really upset by it. In fact, he liked it.
So it was no surprise that Jimin had chosen sunflowers for their wedding decor. And each anniversary, Yoongi would bring Jimin a bouquet of the yellow blooms. The bright flowers always brought a smile to his face, until one day when they brought only tears.
And blood.
They had promised each other forever right after graduation. Jimin had thought that forever meant more than nine years. He had never considered that the man who had always been by his side and had claimed to love him more than anything would stop.
There had to be some mistake, Jimin was sure of it. But months had gone by and Yoongi had gotten more distant. He was barely home anymore, choosing to work late hours at the studio rather than join Jimin for dinner at home. And when he was home, he was either irritable and tired or had brought his work home with him and holed up in his office.
Every rejection made his chest hurt and his throat burn. Still, he told himself that it was a bit of indigestion or allergies causing his discomfort. Yoongi had promised to love him forever, right?
The discomfort turned into pain as the weeks turned into months and saw less and less of his husband. Even so, Jimin ignored the prickling in his lungs as he tried to breathe, telling himself that it was simply a winter cold that would clear up.
However, it didn’t, and Jimin had had enough. If Yoongi was too busy at work to come home to eat, then he figured that he would surprise him by making dinner and bringing it to him at the studio. Maybe he would even get to spend a small break with his husband.
So Jimin spent hours making Yoongi’s favorite foods and packed it all into containers. He showered and dressed up nice, even putting some makeup on to hide how sickly he had begun to look.
Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he gathered the picnic and left the house with a spring in his step and excitement over finally seeing his husband more than just in passing. It had been six months since he had first felt Yoongi drifting away, and he missed him desperately.
The studio was part of a smaller entertainment company, but at that time of night, most of the regular staff had gone home, so there was no one at the reception desk. However, he had been there enough that he knew where Yoongi’s studio was. He could get there blindfolded.
He rode the elevator up to the third floor, switching the basket handle from one hand to the other, anticipating the grin that would take over Yoongi’s face. The doors opened and he made his way down the hall toward the studio. He checked his reflection in the glass of the door, moving his face closer to get a better look at his hair.
It was then that he heard voices coming from inside the studio. He checked the light above the door to make sure that he wasn’t interrupting a recording session. The bulb was dark. Maybe he should knock, just to be on the safe side.
He raised his fist to announce his presence, but the conversation made him pause.
“Yoongi hyung,” the honeyed voice of Yoongi’s assistant, Hoseok, drifted through the door, “you look so tired… You should relax.”
Jimin couldn’t help but crack open the door enough to see the two men sitting in front of a computer. He heard Yoongi hum a bit, his husband’s way of dismissing what was said. He knew that sound well, having been on the receiving end of it more often lately.
“This track needs to be finished before tomorrow,” Yoongi said, stifling a yawn.
“Hyung,” Hoseok drew out the word as he rolled his chair closer, “the track is good already. You could use a break. I could help you relax.”
Jimin held his breath as the scene seemed to progress in slow motion. Hoseok stood, straddling Yoongi’s lap as he closed the distance between them. He felt his heart sink as his husband’s lips met his assistant’s, the other man’s arms wrapping around Yoongi’s neck and his fingers tangling in mint colored hair.
He couldn’t watch anymore, the pain in his chest a heavy burden that stole his breath. Jimin stumbled back to the elevator, struggling to breathe as tears streamed down his cheeks. Was this why Yoongi had been spending so much time at work? Was Hoseok the one Yoongi wanted to spend all of his time with?
The doors parted and Jimin had barely gotten inside the elevator car when the coughing started. At first, it was a wheeze, an attempt to get air into his lungs. It quickly turned into hacking and when Jimin pulled his hand away from his mouth, it was full of bloody yellow petals.
That night, Jimin pretended to be asleep when Yoongi came home and climbed into bed smelling of another man’s cologne. He felt the all too familiar scraping in his lungs but waited until he was sure Yoongi was asleep before sneaking to the bathroom to cough up more petals.
Another month came and went. Yoongi still came home late, but he seemed to cuddle more. Jimin’s malady continued to worsen, so he knew that his husband was only doing it out of guilt. Why else would he care to touch Jimin when he didn’t love him anymore?
It was eight months into their ninth year when Jimin’s condition reached the next stage. He was cleaning out a storage closet when he came across an old photo album. He hadn’t looked at it in years, the book having been packed away when they’d moved into their current apartment. The boxes of non-essentials had been shoved into the closet to be unpacked later and were forgotten.
He sat on the couch and opened the book, flipping through the pages that held so many memories. Pictures their moms had taken of them playing together as children of Yoongi buried in the sand at the beach and of Jimin dressed as a cow for the school play. Pictures from middle school when they’d entered a soap box derby together. Their car had lost its back wheels before the finish line and they had come in last place, but they had had a blast building it together. They had painted it green with sunflowers on it.
Jimin felt the tears running down his face and his chest and throat getting tight. He knew what was coming next in the book, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop flipping. Yoongi had confessed to him the break before high school began. And of course Jimin had said yes because he had been psyching himself up to confess to Yoongi for a month, but his words disappeared every time he would try.
They were inseparable throughout their high school years. They were in the same clubs, a lot of the same classes, and always went home together. They were THAT couple. Everyone knew that they were together and despite some rather unfortunate remarks from homophobic assholes (unfortunate for those assholes since Yoongi kicked their asses), they still managed to land on the superlatives page of the yearbook as the cutest couple.
Then came the photos that Jimin both loved and dreaded: their wedding photos. That day was so vivid in his mind already that he could close his eyes and see it without the aid of the photos. They had been so happy once, had been so full of hopes and dreams for their future.
The first picture drives him over the edge, his husband’s shimmering eyes and glowing smile as he waited for Jimin at the end of the aisle was too much for his broken heart to bear. He choked, the album falling from his hands as his eyes widened.
It felt different from the other times he had coughed up petals. Jimin felt something large in his throat as he hacked, trying to dislodge it. He ran to the bathroom, hovering over the sink as he gagged. Finally, he was able to get it all the way up, but as the bloody sunflower fell into the sink, the front door opened and Yoongi walked in, earlier than usual.
“Jiminnie,” Yoongi said from the living room.
Jimin let out an unintentional sob. It had been so long since he had called him that. And it hurt so bad to know that it wasn’t real. He felt the urge to cough another bloom up and attempted to shut the door, but Yoongi had made a beeline for the bathroom when he’d heard Jimin’s cries. He stuck his foot in the doorway, preventing Jimin from closing it.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Yoongi asked, his face contorted in mock concern. There was no way he was actually worried. He had practically ignored Jimin for over half a year. Why would he care now? “Talk to me, Minnie.”
“Why?” Jimin croaked. His throat was sore and scratchy, a lump threatening to form in it. He could barely talk with the sunflower trying to make its way up from his lungs.
“You’ve gotten so thin, and you’re always sneaking off to the bathroom,” Yoongi said, still blocking the door from closing. “I’m worried, baby. I know I haven’t been around much, but…”
“But what?” Jimin spat, the hurt bubbling to the surface. “But you’ll be there for me? Like you have been for the last eight months? I know, Yoongi.”
“You know?” Yoongi asked, seemingly baffled at the knowledge Jimin claimed to have. “You know what, exactly?”
“I know about you and Hoseok,” Jimin replied, tears still clinging to his lashes. “I saw you. I came to bring you dinner last month and I saw him sit on your lap and-”
He tried to take a steadying breath, but the flowers wouldn’t allow him to breathe deeply. He coughed, the next bloom making its trek to the outside world. Jimin gripped the sides of the pedestal sink, hunching over as he retched.
The next instant, Yoongi was inside the bathroom, gazing into the sink in horror at the crimson-coated porcelain and the flowers that lay there in a spattering of blood.
“Oh, baby, no,” Yoongi begged, attempting to bring him into his arms. “This can’t be right.”
“You don’t love me,” Jimin cried, trying to shrug his husband’s hands off. “This is the proof. You kissed him and you don’t love me anymore.”
“Jimin, I do love you,” Yoongi assured him. “And he kissed me. You didn’t see the whole thing. I pushed him off and told him that he couldn’t do that. That I couldn’t do that. I had him reassigned to Namjoon.”
“But you have been ignoring me for months and I never see you anymore,” Jimin hiccuped, his breath coming in small gasps.
“I’ve been working, Minnie,” Yoongi stated. “I picked up extra hours for a reason, and it wasn’t to avoid you. Come with me and I’ll show you.”
Yoongi took him by the hand and led him to the desk in his home office. He sat Jimin down in the desk chair and opened the top drawer, pulling out a bank book. Jimin looked dumbly from Yoongi’s face to the book in his hands, unsure of what his husband was getting at.
“Take it,” Yoongi insisted, thrusting the ledger and some travel brochures into his hands. “This is the reason I was working extra hours. I wanted to do something special for our ten year anniversary.”
Jimin opened the account log and saw the amount Yoongi had put aside into a savings account labeled ‘Travel Fund’. It was a pretty large sum, more than enough to go off for a weekend to the sea. Then he looked at the travel brochures and cried.
“You always said you wanted to travel to Europe and go sightseeing,” Yoongi said softly. “I promised you that one day I would take you. I saved up my vacation days and worked as much as I could so that I could take three weeks off for the trip.”
Jimin couldn’t breathe. Was this real life? Had he choked to death and this was some twisted cosmic joke? But Yoongi’s arms felt so real and warm as he held him. And his lips felt soft against his cheeks as his husband tried to kiss away his tears.
“I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” Jimin sobbed into Yoongi’s neck. “I thought you realized I wasn’t good enough for you and that you could do better.”
“Shh, stop talking nonsense,” Yoongi scolded. “There is no one in the universe that is better for me than you. And I am so lucky to have you, Minnie. I will always want you.”
“Forever?” Jimin glanced up at his husband with teary eyes.
“Forever,” Yoongi replied, bringing his lips to Jimin’s, ignoring the slight coppery taste of the kiss.
Three months later, Jimin was racing around the apartment, making sure he hadn’t left any necessities out of his luggage. They would be on a completely different continent in just less than a day. He was so excited, he had barely slept the night before.
“I think I have everything,” Jimin mumbled to himself. “Hyung, am I forgetting anything?”
“Did you pack your passport?” Yoongi asked. “Namjoon said that he went on a business trip once and lost his. He said it was a huge pain to get a new one.”
“Yeah, our passports are in the carry-on,” Jimin confirmed.
Ever since the two had cleared the air that night, Jimin hadn’t coughed up even a single petal. It seemed that he had done such a thorough job of convincing himself that his husband had fallen out of love with him that his body reacted as if it were the truth. Once everything came to the light, the heaviness in his chest had disappeared and he was cured.
“If we don’t leave soon, the plane will leave before we make it through security,” Yoongi advised, a smirk adorning his face.
“Okay, Hyung, I’m coming,” Jimin giggled, lugging his bags toward the door.
“Not yet, you aren’t,” Yoongi teased, “but just you wait until I get you thirty thousand feet in the air.”
Jimin gasped in fake shock, slapping him on the arm lightly. Yoongi just chuckled and took the larger bag into his own hand, leaving Jimin with only his smaller bag. He flipped the lights off and shut the door of their apartment, locking it before heading toward the elevator with his loving husband.
Once they returned, they had a whole album of new pictures of them being completely and disgustingly in love all over Europe. And they had even joined a new club together… the Mile High Club.