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“Jimin,” Taehyung says firmly—too firmly, punching the syllables, so he repeats himself more softly. “Jimin.” That sounds better. He nods, and continues, “You’re my best friend. Nothing in the world is more important to me than your friendship. But recently, I’ve realized… that’s not the only way I love you. I love you in every way there is. Jimin, I love you.”
He nods again, and looks around his empty room. His little speech is written in the corner of a notepad otherwise full of scribbles and diagrams and crossed-out attempts. He sat down almost four hours ago to figure this out. Now it’s dark out, by which Taehyung means the cacophonous rainbow of lights in West Hollywood is decorating his frightful little studio like a fever dream, and Taehyung has anticipated every question Jimin might have for him.
When did he fall into this love?
He’s always been in it, probably—in this life, in the next one, since before he’d ever heard Jimin’s name—but it’s leaving college that made him notice. They have to work harder now to see each other, with their different jobs and Jimin living back at his parents’ to save money. It’s not like when they spent all day every day together, parting only long enough for a class or two and snapchatting through that. Taehyung misses Jimin differently than he misses other people, is willing to work harder to make space for him. He’s felt like this for a long time, but he only recently found its name.
Why not sooner?
Taehyung does wish he had figured it out sooner—he wishes he had figured it out the moment he laid eyes on Jimin in freshman orientation, he wishes he hadn’t wasted a second—but especially, he wishes he’d figured it out when they were still in school. When it was easier to float together, to test things gently, the way Hoseok and Yoongi did when they were undergrads. But he was just so happy with what they had, he forgot to wonder about what would happen next. Taehyung has always come at things his own way, in his own time, and he hopes if Jimin loves him back then Jimin will appreciate that.
What does he want?
He wants to take Jimin to the boardwalk and buy him ice cream and pulverize him at arcade games and kiss him at the end of the night and see if they both like it enough to do it again. He wants lots of kisses. He wants to know if there’s anything Jimin wants. He wants to wait a while to have sex, but he definitely wants it. He wants these desires not to ruin their friendship, if Jimin doesn’t want the same things.
Some early versions of Taehyung’s speech contained all this information, an onslaught that, even when he was alone, overwhelmed the room. He’s edited it all down to only the two most important points—”I love you” and “nothing in the world is more important to me than your friendship”—and then he’ll see what Jimin says. If there are questions, they can answer them. If there are problems, they can solve them. If a new path is open to them, they can find it as they walk.
If it ruins them, it will ruin Taehyung. But it’s already ruining him, a little. Tonight’s crisis is the result of a couple days of itchy agony after the last time he went out with Jimin. Some macho buzzcut nightmare guy started leaning over Jimin at the bar, and Jimin laughed at his dumb jokes and complimented his tattoos and Taehyung started to feel miserable, and then Jimin said he’d give the guy his number, but he wanted to spend time with his friend tonight. The guy took the number and left, and everyone was gracious about it except Taehyung. Even with Jimin’s full attention, he felt lonely and pouty and weird. Jimin’s phone kept lighting up, and Jimin ignored it but Taehyung got distracted every time.
Jimin could tell something was wrong, asked, “Are you mad at me?” over and over.
So it’s time to tell the truth. The truth is, Taehyung thinks about Jimin all the time now, in ways it isn’t fair to hide. He takes up Jimin’s time and accepts Jimin’s affection and looks at Jimin’s body with something as powerful and intangible as smoke diffusing through his lungs, and Jimin has the right to know. To step back, if he needs to.
Taehyung’s stomach hurts. He leaves the notepad on the floor and lies back on his bed, watching headlights and strobe lights and the winking multicolor fairy lights of the club across the street play across his leak-stained ceiling like a kaleidoscope.
Taehyung takes the scenic route to most of the places he ends up, but not Jimin. He knows what he wants and pursues it with single-minded devotion. He’s never been shy about hooking up. He’s insecure about the silliest things sometimes, too, so it’s hard to say for sure. But if Jimin wanted him, Taehyung thinks he would probably already know.
Still, whatever happens, Jimin should hear this. It’s good, right, proper; even if things get worse, they will be better. Taehyung can’t carry it alone anymore, and he trusts Jimin’s pretty, beloved hands to be gentle with every piece of his heart.
Tomorrow is Chaotic Brunch—it shouldn’t be hard to talk to Jimin alone, either at brunch or after. A perfect plan.
Taehyung’s phone buzzes. He rolls over and fishes it out of his jacket on the floor.
Jeongguk
Yo what are we gonna do to Jimin tomorrow
Taehyung gawks at it. Jeongguk is not someone who can be trusted with psychic powers.
But the date glows whitely from Taehyung’s phone screen, and he understands. It’s March 31.
Tomorrow is April Fool’s Day.
Taehyung is not going to confess on April Fool’s Day—that’s just the kind of slapsticky bullshit that he would stumble into, and he’s proud of himself that for once he figured it out in time to avoid it. But there’s no reason he can’t ask Yoongi for advice any time, so he texts and asks if he minds meeting up at Chaotic Brunch a little early.
Yoongi’s and Taehyung’s parents are friends. He has been Taehyung’s role model and spiritual advisor as long as either of them can remember, and in particular he’s in the most wonderful, aspirational relationship Taehyung has been privileged to witness. The love between Yoongi and Hoseok runs deep, because they’re both hardworking and ambitious and devoted to fiercely held values, and what Taehyung has seen of that has him in awe.
But what’s so great about them is they don’t wear that on the surface. They’re always having bad dance-offs or playing complicated games of pretend or dressed in weird matching outfits for no reason anyone can discern, having fun in a goofy, embarrassing way that is completely delightful to them. Sometimes Yoongi lies down on the ground and won’t get up until his “battery is recharged” from Hoseok holding his hand and making boop-boop-boop noises. They exist in the ageless nerdiness of small children or old men, and Taehyung doesn’t want that, exactly—it’s gruesome to everyone but the two of them, that’s the point of it—but he yearns for the closeness and synchronicity of it.
(He thinks he might be that close to Jimin.)
So this question in Taehyung’s heart—what if I ruin it, what if I’ve already ruined it—is one only Jimin can answer, but he still wants to hear what Yoongi has to say about it. Yoongi fell in love with his friend, and it didn’t ruin anything. It’s wonderful.
Taehyung gets to Chaotic Brunch—it’s just a pleasant, old-fashioned restaurant; they bring the chaos—before anyone else, and grabs a seat at the bar because they need their whole party to get a table. He orders a mimosa for himself and an Irish coffee for Yoongi and tries to take some big, calming breaths, but they only make his lungs feel tighter.
Yoongi’s right on their agreed-upon time, pale and dressed in white like a little ghost man. Maybe it’s just a trick of the color, but he looks kind of peaky. “Hey.”
“You all right?”
“Actually, it’s good you wanted to meet alone. There’s something pretty tough I want to talk to you about.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, sighs it out like he’s in yoga class. He’s sitting so close to Taehyung at the bar that Taehyung can feel his warm exhale, but his voice is still hard to hear under the noise of dishes and chatter. “Hoseok broke up with me.”
Taehyung stares at him flatly. “Ha ha. April Fool’s.”
Yoongi’s mouth pops into a O, an over-the-top surprise. Taehyung rolls his eyes just as performatively. His temper snaps quick inside him, a spark. In theory, April Fool’s jokes are the kind of nerdy old man humor that he loves from Yoongi and Hoseok. Yoongi doesn’t know what Taehyung’s been thinking about, the nerves twisting inside him. It isn’t fair to get angry, but it’s hard to hold it down.
“I’m not an idiot. I know what day it is.” Taehyung owes Jeongguk one for that text. “That’s not funny, it’s a mean joke.”
Yoongi drops his gaze, looking appropriately abashed. “Okay. Sorry. What did you want to talk about?”
Taehyung doesn’t want to bring up Jimin anymore. The hope is such a tender, tiny thing inside him—it’s not a joke. He already feels betrayed, even if Yoongi didn’t do it on purpose.
Luckily, there are always at least four different things happening Taehyung needs Yoongi’s help with. Taehyung’s boss at the magazine he works at asked him to pick out a portfolio of the best photos he’s taken this year for an award submission; he has a folder of his favorites on his phone, but he still needs to whittle it down. He hands it over to Yoongi and sits with his chin in his hand while Yoongi looks.
This restaurant is in an old house, made of several small rooms instead of one big dining room. There are lots of walls to disappear around, corners to hide in, interior windows and mirrors that make it feel like a maze. Taehyung imagines a world where he slips Jimin into a hidden spot to hold his waist and kiss his lips, even as his guilty shame hisses that Jimin might be disgusted by that. Every corner and shadow looks like a place to make secrets lately.
Yoongi vetoes two photos and deletes them when Taehyung says it’s okay. He’s still sorting his favorites into a separate folder on Taehyung’s phone when Jin comes in. “Jeongguk reports from dance class,” he says, lifting his phone. “Apparently Hoseok tried to play a tasteless April Fool’s joke.”
“What, did he say they broke up?” Taehyung asks. “Yoongi tried that on me.”
“That’s the worst joke,” Jin says. “Cliche and mean.”
“I said I was sorry—” Yoongi starts.
“Sorry for your weak jokes,” Jin cuts in.
Yoongi huffs. “I said I was sorry, let’s just drop it. Here, I like these ones.” He gives Taehyung back his phone and asks Jin, “What have you been up to, how did that date go?”
“Which date?” Jin says breezily, and that gets him started while Taehyung checks the photos Yoongi picked. It looks like he chose all the clearest, most expressive faces, with fewer crowd and full-body shots mixed in, and as Taehyung flips through, he sees how that makes sense.
Namjoon arrives next, and they get squished into their corner of the bar, more a line than a group. Taehyung compliments his jacket and shows him the photos and accepts his praise. Yoongi’s down at the end, pushed behind Jin’s shoulder by the way they’ve tried to fit into an awkward space and more focused on his phone than the conversation, but Taehyung catches his eye and says, “Thanks, you were right.”
“Hyung’s always right,” Yoongi says.
Now Taehyung feels like it was silly not to ask him about Jimin, to say the true thing weighing on him, but it’s too late.
Jimin, Jeongguk, and Hoseok go to a dance class together before Chaotic Brunch, so they arrive last, all together. Hoseok has a big camo-print jacket on over his dance clothes, Jeongguk a horrible yellow hoodie that says KOOKS ONLY NO LOCALS in block letters. But Jimin must have left his jacket in the car. He’s wearing just a black tank top over his track pants, his arms pale and sculpted and bright in this dim bar. Taehyung pulls him into a hug as if compelled. “I missed you.”
Jimin laughs, but sweetly, pleased. “You saw me three days ago.”
“I know.” Taehyung pouts. “I missed you for three whole days.”
There’s nowhere to go now, seven of them packed into the tiny corner of a bar, so Jimin stays in the hug. “Whenever you miss me, you should text me.”
“Then I’d text you all the time.”
Jimin pokes Taehyung’s chest. “Exactly.”
Behind them, Jeongguk is talking to Namjoon. “Taehyung,” he shouts, “I wanna see pictures!”
Taehyung finally lets go of Jimin to get his phone back out of his pocket. His hands move over Jimin’s waist and he notices, like always, the fit of it, how it seems as if parts of Jimin’s body were made to be just the right size for Taehyung’s hands. Or vice versa—Taehyung was born second, as Jimin will always remind him. Maybe his hands were made to hold Jimin.
Jimin shivers, rubbing a palm up and down his bare arm. Looking at his phone to pull up the photos, Taehyung says, “Are you cold? Where’s your jacket?”
“In the car,” Jimin says. “I’m not cold, it’s hot in here.”
That’s true, but he’s the one shivering. Taehyung shrugs and gives the phone to Jeongguk, who oohs over the portfolio. Taehyung turns to give credit to his editorial director, and discovers Yoongi and Hoseok are gone.
“Where’d Yoongi go?” he asks.
Almost everyone seems as surprised as he is to find they’ve lost them, but Jin makes a bored face. “Hoseok pulled him away. They’re probably planning the next round of their dumb April Fool’s joke.”
“What joke?” Namjoon asks.
“Hoseok told us they broke up,” Jimin says.
“Oh, yikes,” Namjoon replies.
“The joke is, love is dead,” Jeongguk says. “Sick burn.”
Namjoon shakes his head. “That’s a mean prank.”
The host comes to say their table is ready, and Taehyung offers to find Yoongi and Hoseok to let them know. They’re on the patio outside the bar—Taehyung sees them through the window, standing oddly, Yoongi with his arms crossed and Hoseok over him, hand pressed into the wall by Yoongi’s head—but he has to lose sight of them to go to the patio door, and as he approaches, he hears them around a corner before he sees them again.
“What do you want to do?” Hoseok says.
Taehyung stops and presses himself against the wall like a cartoon cat, a little spy thrill zipping through him. They are planning their prank—if he can figure it out, he can run back to the table and they can make a quick retaliation plan.
“I don’t care,” Yoongi replies. Taehyung has to really strain to hear him. “I just… didn’t want to cry again in front of Taehyung.”
Taehyung’s mouth falls open. What?
It sounds like they might have really—
No—
But they can’t—
It’s Yoongi and Hoseok.
He goes back through his morning in his head. The circles under Yoongi’s eyes, his surprised faces. I said I was sorry, let’s just drop it.
It takes him too long to think, but it also takes Hoseok too long to answer, and when he does, there’s something awful in his voice that Taehyung hasn’t ever heard before, something low and unsteady and almost threatening. “Yoongi.”
“It was a bad idea to tell them all together,” Yoongi says. “I forgot about fuckin’ April Fools.”
Taehyung turns and runs back to the table. He’s escalating this problem all the way to Namjoon, immediately. He throws himself into his chair next to Jimin and says, “I think maybe they really broke up.”
“They did not break up,” Jin says. “We are not falling for an April Fool’s joke, I will not allow it.”
“I heard them talking.” Taehyung’s heart is beating so fast, his voice has gone all breathless. “Yoongi said he forgot about April Fool’s, and he said, he said ‘I don’t want to cry again in front of Taehyung.’” He squeaks on his own name.
The salsa-loaded chip Jeongguk is lifting pauses briefly in its flight, until he sticks it whole in his mouth and knots his brows at Namjoon, cheeks working as he chews.
“You… heard him say that?” Namjoon asks.
Taehyung nods.
“Did he know you were listening?” Jin asks. “Did they see you?”
Taehyung starts to say no, but he isn’t sure—he saw them through the window, they could have seen him. There might be a mirror for the bartenders to keep an eye on the side of the patio where he was hiding, Taehyung can’t remember. “Maybe? I don’t know.”
Jin opens his hand in a gesture like there you go.
Quietly, like he can speak just to Jin even though the whole table is listening, Namjoon asks, “You think he’d say something like that just for a prank?”
“Yes,” Jin says. He studies Namjoon’s face, Taehyung’s, checks Jimin and Jeongguk. “Do not fall for this. I will end my friendship with anyone who falls for this.”
“He sounded really sad.” Taehyung considers it, and asks Jimin, “What exactly did Hoseok tell you?”
“He said, ‘Yoongi and I are on a break.’”
Taehyung chews his lip. “Yoongi said, ‘Hoseok broke up with me.’”
“Stop,” Jin says. “Don’t help them manipulate you.” Hoseok comes to the table alone, and Jin whirls on him. “Stop picking on Taehyung just because he’s second-handsomest.”
“I haven’t even talked to Taehyung today!” Hoseok squawks. He takes an empty seat by Namjoon, eyeing the last chair, next to him, where Yoongi will have to sit. “Hi, Taehyung. How are you?”
“Fine,” Taehyung says weakly.
“He’s upset because you and Yoongi are picking on him, which isn’t very nice,” Jeongguk says, spraying crumbs of tortilla chip. “Only I’m allowed to pick on him, because I have the physical power to back up my claim.”
Hoseok looks stricken but doesn’t say anything. If this is a prank, they should ignore it; if it’s not, they should give Hoseok and Yoongi whatever space they need. So the best thing to do is stop, either way. “Actually,” Taehyung says. “I’m really fine. And I started lifting weights, so you better watch out, Kook.”
“Come at me,” Jeongguk says, grinning with the same fondness Taehyung feels for very small dogs when they try to attack.
When Yoongi comes to the table, it’s with a tray of shots from the bar. Hoseok and Jin are driving, but everyone else takes one, and the warmth radiates from Taehyung’s belly all the way to his fingers and toes. Jimin asks, “How are your parents? My mom always asks,” and it’s quiet, just for Taehyung, a little side conversation that has him leaning closer to Jimin’s space.
Champagne and confusion and tequila are swirling in Taehyung’s brain, and Jimin is arching toward him over the arm of his chair in this way that… well, it just seems like it must be intentional. Jimin knows how to use his body, to move and pose, and whatever he’s doing with his spine to point himself at Taehyung like the figurehead on a ship doesn’t seem natural.
It seems like that curve is there on purpose, a slide to take Taehyung’s hand from the fluff of Jimin’s overbleached hair down the tight line of his back during a long, slow kiss. But it also seems like that’s a terrible thing to think about your friend, who trusts you, who just has a body that doesn’t have anything to do with you to move through the world, if you’re not sure.
Jimin touches Taehyung as they talk. Not just his arm but his chest, his face, his hair. The feeling of all that attention is captivating, holds Taehyung’s attention too. If Jimin was treating some guy in a club like this, Taehyung would already be getting himself a ride home. But that doesn’t mean Jimin is self-conscious in the same way with him, and anyway, what Taehyung wants isn’t to be some guy in a club.
He could open his mouth and say it right now, “Nothing is more important to me than your friendship,” and “I love you.” Nobody is even paying that much attention to them. His heart skitters, slips in a puddle of tequila and crashes on its ass, and he has to look away from Jimin’s face, just for a second. Just to catch his breath. Jimin’s frowning at him when he looks back.
Taehyung only let all these thoughts free, named and organized and scripted them, so he could get them out. Absurd that he might have been in love with his best friend for years and now can’t take a single day of not telling him, but that’s where he is. His cheeks are hot.
Also, right now, Yoongi and Hoseok are driving stronger men than Taehyung to distraction.
Hoseok is leaning across the table to talk to Jeongguk about the finer technical details of something they worked on in their dance class today. It’s ruinous to the table’s chemistry to have a loud conversation everyone else can’t participate in across the middle like that, and that’s the kind of thing Hoseok is usually conscious of. Maybe he’s conscious of it now, doing it on purpose. Namjoon is staring at him like he wants to pull out a scalpel and dissect him.
Jin and Yoongi are caught together on the wrong side of the fault line, but they aren’t making their own conversation. Jin is glowering, and Yoongi is mostly just taking shots.
Taehyung watches him wince down his fourth, lining the glass up neatly with the other ones on the table in front of him.
“They can’t have broken up,” Jimin whispers, moving close. “Why would they both be here? They would have just not come.”
“Yoongi said, ‘It was a mistake to tell them all at once,’” Taehyung whispers back. “But maybe that’s what they were planning.”
Jimin’s face falls. He turns to Yoongi, and Taehyung does too, making a question with his eyebrows. Something falters in Yoongi’s expression, brief and unreadable, just his lips parting and a thoughtful flicker around his eyes, and then his mouth crumples and he takes a huge breath and covers his face with both hands.
“Oh, give it a rest,” Jin starts, and Yoongi takes his hands away from his face, red and splattered with real wet tears. He blinks and a fresh one falls free, slipping down to his lips.
“Holy shit.” Jin scrambles back so fast he almost upends his chair—Jeongguk has to catch him—and Hoseok crosses his arms over his chest and sighs, and Namjoon leans over the table with his brows furrowing, and Yoongi gets up and leaves, so fast and sharp he catches attention all over the room.
They’re sitting in silence. Everyone looks at Hoseok. “Trust me, he doesn’t want me to follow him,” he says to his mimosa.
Taehyung’s throat gets hot with tears of his own. Jin and Namjoon look at each other questioningly, and then Namjoon nods and stands, following Yoongi out of the room.
“What the fuck,” Jin hisses.
Hoseok’s voice is flat, that terrifying evenness Taehyung has never heard from him, and he doesn’t take a breath as he says, “Yoongi got a job offer on the east coast and I said I didn’t want to do long distance and maybe we should take a break to see how we feel and now he thinks I dumped him so that’s my answer I guess.”
“I think I still don’t believe you,” Jeongguk says.
“Thanks, that’s helpful.”
Jimin reaches for Taehyung’s hand, though it closes the heat tighter in his throat to hang on. A chip moves from the salsa bowl to Jeongguk’s mouth with funereal slowness.
Several people at nearby tables are watching them, even though all they’re doing is sitting and avoiding eye contact now. Namjoon and Yoongi come back after what feels like forever but is probably only a couple of minutes. Yoongi hangs back, a hand over his splotchy face, and Hoseok looks at the ceiling.
Namjoon, his face stony and his hands unsteady, collects Yoongi’s jacket and his own from their chairs. He reaches into his back pocket for his wallet to cover their drinks, but Jin says, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it.”
Hoseok sighs again. Yoongi lowers his hand, and his face crumples.
Into laughter.
“Are we done?” Hoseok asks desperately. “Can we be done and never do this again?”
Jin screeches some wordless horror and Yoongi bends over to cackle and maybe neither of them can hear Namjoon say, low but clear, “No. Absolutely not. No.” Taehyung looks at Namjoon’s eyes to figure out how to feel, and it’s bad. His throat is sore, he’s so close to crying, and it gets worse when Jimin lets go of his hand.
“You were gonna pay for the drinks!” Yoongi points at Jin. “I got you, I totally got you! April fucking Fools, Seokjin.”
Jeongguk lets out an angelic peal of laughter and dives for another chip. “The joke is, love is real!”
“That is not funny.” Namjoon sits back down like his knees have given out, rubbing his hands down his face, but he still seems to tower over them.
“Did you give them the speech?” Yoongi asks.
“I did,” Hoseok says.
“He had terrible delivery,” Jin says. “Totally flat.”
“Whatever, you believed it,” Yoongi says, and cackles again.
“You know, it’s possible to overcommit to a bit,” Jin says. “Learn to read the room.”
“Uh, after you,” Yoongi shoots back.
“You both Will Go Down With This Bit," Jeongguk says grandly. Jimin laughs and Taehyung glances at him, his smiling face. He seems relaxed.
Hoseok checks Namjoon and then Taehyung, searching deeper than Taehyung wants him to go. “This is too hard. I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of deception.”
“It was your prank.” Yoongi flops down next to him, leaning toward Hoseok’s shoulder as Hoseok drapes his arm over the back of his chair. They don't even have to look at each other to fit together like that, perfectly aware of one another's space in the room.
“I just wanted to hear people tell us how nice our relationship is!” Hoseok says. “I was done after dance. But you had to goad him—” He points at Jin.
“It’s not his fault,” Namjoon says.
“Ah, drop it, Joonie,” Yoongi says. “Everybody chill out.”
“Brunch is on us, obviously,” Hoseok says. “You guys are good sports.”
Jeongguk tilts his head. “I don’t think we are.”
Jimin laughs again. It plucks at the knots in Taehyung's chest, almost nauseating. But it's just a joke, it's not weird or wrong that Jimin finds it funny.
“This is a little codependent,” Yoongi says. “I really didn’t expect you all to be quite this invested.”
“Oh, I did.” Hoseok sits up taller in his chair, puffing out his chest. “We’re the best at love.”
“No one cares about that,” Jin says. “We’re upset about the poor quality of your jokes.”
“Again, you’re the one who fell for it.” Yoongi scrubs his face. “God, I’m so drunk now.”
“Yeah, why did you take all those shots?” Hoseok says.
Yoongi points at his cheek. “To make the tears.”
“That’s hardcore,” Jeongguk says.
“That is disgusting,” Namjoon says firmly.
And Namjoon has a right to be angry if he wants but Taehyung needs him to let it go, maybe, because Taehyung is wobbling right on that edge, when you’ve slipped and you’re about to fall and your equilibrium swerves, tricking you into believing you might get your balance back or someone might save you. He just needs to find the joke—it’s funny—everyone’s okay. Hoseok and Yoongi can play whatever games they want with their own relationship, it doesn’t have to be about anyone else. It’s funny, it’s okay. It’s okay.
“I hated that,” Hoseok says. “Let’s never break up.”
“Okay.” Yoongi glows up at him. “Love you.”
He is drunk, being all openly affectionate. Hoseok pushes the advantage and gives him a quick kiss, right on the lips. Basically everyone in the restaurant is watching. It’s cute.
And Taehyung slips. Because maybe it’s good, maybe it’s a sign that they’re all safe and trust each other enough to play, but it doesn’t feel good. It feels personal, it feels like the joke is on Taehyung, like all the things that are most important to him and just out of his reach are fair game for the nasty kind of laughter, and the next time he blinks the tears spill over his cheeks in a sheet.
“Tae?” Jimin whispers, so soft, but it’s quiet enough at the table that now everyone is staring. Not just their friends but most of the people around them, the whole scene they’ve caused. Taehyung mashes his napkin at his cheeks. Jimin’s hand comes to his arm, Namjoon’s to his back.
“You can’t cry every time you lose a game,” Yoongi says. “That doesn’t work on me anymore.”
Hoseok nudges him, but Yoongi is not wrong. Taehyung hurts because they tricked him, because all his surprise doesn’t have anywhere to go, and it’s embarrassing and then it’s even more embarrassing to cry about being embarrassed. Except that now he’s started, all of the real stuff, the true, deep stuff he dug up just last night and hasn’t figured out how to carry around yet, rolls over and shows the fear and shame of its underbelly and it all scrapes out of Taehyung in a harsh, rasping sob.
Yoongi’s face changes fast, starting to laugh and then dropping softer. “Whoa. What’s the matter?”
Jeongguk pushes the chips carefully toward Taehyung.
Jimin’s hand goes up and down Taehyung’s shoulder blade, and he whispers, “Hey, I’m here,” which is so so nice and also makes Taehyung sob again. He puts his hands over his mouth but can’t hold it back.
“Hey,” Yoongi says. “I’m sorry. It was just fake, just a game. I’m sorry, okay?”
“You are not,” Taehyung says. “You said that before.”
Yoongi opens his mouth, closes it again, looks really hurt in a way that makes Taehyung feel even worse. Taehyung says, “Just leave me alone,” and he’s the second person to shove up from the table and leave Chaotic Brunch in tears today.
Taehyung walks half a block to the nearest bus stop with a bench, just to sit down, even though it isn’t his line. As soon as he’s out of that claustrophobic restaurant he calms down, but once he starts crying he usually can’t stop, so he sits there and leaks miserably for a few minutes before he tries to decide what to do.
His friends have an interesting interpretation of “leave me alone,” and his phone is already buzzing furiously in his pocket with check-in messages. He takes it out to put it on silent, just for now.
In the notes widget on his home screen, there’s a new note he didn’t leave himself, and didn’t notice before. He opens it and reads: Don’t be nervous about your photos. Awards can be weird political things, but if your boss wants to put you up for one, you’ve already won. Your work is beautiful. Hyung’s proud of you.
Yoongi must have left it while he was sorting photos on Taehyung’s phone, hiding it for Taehyung to stumble over later. That's really sweet. Thoughtful. Taehyung looks up—maybe he should go back—and finds Jimin creeping up to him. “I know you said to leave you alone—”
“Didn’t mean you,” Taehyung mumbles and puts his phone back in his pocket. “Obviously wouldn’t mean you.”
Jimin smiles, sweetly and also with real pleasure, and hands forward Jeongguk’s yellow hoodie. “Kook was afraid you’d get cold.”
He isn’t—it’s warm afternoon now, and Taehyung has on a long-sleeved shirt while Jimin’s still just in that tank—but it’s a nice gesture, so Taehyung takes it and puts his arms through the sleeves. It smells like a sweaty boy and cotton candy vape juice and the beach, disgusting but comforting.
Since Taehyung is still mid-cry, this kind comfort sends another rush of tears down his cheeks, and Jimin says, “Oh, Tae,” and sits down next to him on the bench, kneeling sideways to wrap his arms around Taehyung’s shoulders and put his cheek on the top of Taehyung’s head. “My sweet baby. You’re okay.”
Taehyung wraps an arm around his waist and sniffles. Someone walking by stares at them; he can feel Jimin giving a dirty look back over his head. Then Jimin is carefully wiping the tears off Taehyung’s cheeks, one by one, and pressing his lips to Taehyung’s hairline, a tiny spot of warmth.
He might not feel safe touching Taehyung like this if he knew what Taehyung has been thinking about him. Taehyung moves away, not enough to make Jimin feel rejected but out of reach of his lips, and feels the distance like he cut it out of himself.
Jimin sits back on his heels and takes Taehyung’s hand in both of his. “Kook was crying, because you were crying, you know. Babies learn by mimicking. And then Jin started yelling, but before he could get into it, Namjoon really quietly goes, ‘This is so disappointing, you guys.’”
Taehyung sucks in a breath.
“I know,” Jimin says. “So we can go back and kill them, if you want, but honestly I think murder has already been committed today.”
“I don’t want to kill anyone.”
“That’s always been your problem, too soft,” Jimin says. “That’s why you have me to look out for you.”
Taehyung smiles for him, a little, even though it probably looks pathetic because he’s still oozing tears. Jimin wipes a few more away.
“It was a bad joke,” Jimin says. “But is anything else the matter?”
Taehyung nods. “It’s not really about the prank. It’s just… I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”
“What stuff?”
Taehyung has forgotten his speech. He knows he was supposed to say “I love you” a lot. He wants to say, “I love you, and it hurts.” But he doesn’t really want that, he doesn’t want to have this conversation when he feels this way, when Jimin feels obligated to take care of him.
So instead, he says, “Do you think I could talk to you about something tomorrow?”
Jimin takes in a breath Taehyung hears, holds it teetering at the top. There’s more on his face than fits together all at once—hesitant and steady, searching and sure. “Me?”
Taehyung nods. He’s been so busy looking at Jimin’s face, he’s forgotten to control the expression on his own.
Another careful pause, and then, “Sure,” Jimin says lightly. “You want to meet up for those breakfast burritos at the farmer’s market?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Cool.” Jimin’s hands are tight on Taehyung’s. “And then we can talk.”
Taehyung nods and sniffles as another humiliating wave of tears bubbles up from his throat. Jimin doesn’t react, just takes one hand—he leaves the other holding Taehyung’s, lacing their fingers together—and wipes away the tears as they come. He shuffles closer again and puts his lips on Taehyung’s hair, on his eyebrow. He wipes away a tear from Taehyung’s chin and leaves his hand there, holding Taehyung’s jaw.
“Jimin,” Taehyung says quietly.
They’re on a busy street, people are staring from their cars and the sidewalk, but Jimin just says, “Mm-hmm?” and kisses a tear off Taehyung’s cheek.
Taehyung doesn’t have anything to say. His heartbeat seems to slow down, maybe calming after such a long frenzy, getting bigger and surer. His eyes fall closed.
Jimin puts another kiss up his cheekbone, noses his temple, brushes a line of salt away from the corner of his mouth. He kisses Taehyung’s eyelid, a strange and intimate feeling with Taehyung’s eyes hot and wet from crying, and Taehyung takes one smooth, tear-free breath, and then Jimin lifts Taehyung’s face in his hand and kisses his mouth.
A simple kiss, just his lips soft and even against Taehyung’s, but he stays. Too long for it to be a comforting gesture, too long to be misunderstood. Long enough to a sigh a full, relaxed exhale across Taehyung’s cheek. Taehyung’s eyes pop open and Jimin’s are closed. He’s holding Taehyung’s hand so tightly. Taehyung turns into it, fitting his other hand around Jimin’s waist, and Jimin shivers even though it’s hot outside, an unmistakable thing.
He sits back one centimeter, almost nothing, staying as close as he can.
“That’s a mean joke,” Taehyung breathes.
“It’s not. You know it’s not.” Jimin sits back farther and touches Taehyung’s face again, tracing the line of his cheekbone and nose. “We can talk tomorrow, like you said.”
“Okay.” Taehyung shuts his eyes and lets himself be petted. He does have stuff he wants to say, but for now it’s nice to let Jimin take charge. The bus whose stop they’re sitting at comes by and pauses for them, but Jimin gives the driver an unreasonably confused look and waves her on.
Taehyung giggles. “I should go get my actual bus.”
“The bus,” Jimin repeats, disgusted. “Make Hoseok drive you. Make him beg for it.”
“Aww. I think poor Hoseok’s been punished enough.” Sitting like this, holding Jimin’s hand in the sunshine, is clearing some of the fog that has been shrouding Taehyung today, and he’s wondering if he didn’t take a lot out on Yoongi and Hoseok that wasn’t really their fault. If everyone might have had a nicer day if he’d been honest about what was bothering him this morning.
“Don’t get weak now,” Jimin says. “You could get a lot of guilt points out of this.”
That’s not a nice thing to think about, Yoongi sitting back at Chaotic Brunch getting yelled at, too drunk, feeling guilty about him. Taehyung makes a little fretting noise.
“Yoongi used hyung privilege to manipulate you.” Jimin pushes Taehyung’s shoulder. “Stay strong!”
“I use dongsaeng privilege to manipulate Yoongi all the time. If he’d invested all the money he’s spent on ice cream for me, he could probably retire already.”
“Well, you deserve it.”
“One time he made fun of my shirt, and I made him buy me a slushie just so I could dump it on him.”
Jimin grins, eyes sparkling. “Completely reasonable.”
“The first day he had to TA a class alone, I crashed it in an alien onesie and wouldn’t leave until he told me he loved me in front of all his students.”
Jimin bends into Taehyung’s shoulder to laugh. “Classic story.”
“I love that weird little man,” Taehyung says. “Why is he so little? He just kept getting weirder instead of getting any bigger.”
Jimin gives him a steady gaze. “You better watch it.”
Taehyung changes tack. “That nerd boy. That creature. I want to go back and give him a hug.”
“Squeeze him ‘til his eyes pop out.” Jimin nods. “That’ll show him.”
“I will. Get a picture.” Taehyung stands and finds Jimin moving with him, keeping his hand. He looks down at Jimin’s fingers laced into his, his favorite hand in the world.
“Okay?” Jimin asks.
Taehyung nods. “Do I look all messy?”
“You’re such a pretty crier, it’s obnoxious,” Jimin says soothingly. “You just look kind of windswept and dramatic, it’s fine.”
He’s probably only being nice, but Taehyung will take it. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I mean, not that anyone looks good in that sweatshirt.”
“You won’t believe this, but it smells even worse than it looks.”
“Oh my god.”
“You’re my best friend. Nothing in the world is more important to me than your friendship. But recently, I’ve realized… that’s not the only way I love you. I love you in every way there is.” Taehyung reaches his hand across the picnic table, offering one yellow daffodil. “I love you, Jimin.”
Jimin has his hands over his mouth, giggling so much his eyes are sweet crescents and his cheeks are pink, but he pulls them away to take the flower. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, oh. Oh gosh. I thought this would be good but it’s so good.” He takes Taehyung’s fingers and holds onto his hand. “I love you, too.”
They eat burritos and talk about the past and the future and kick each other under the table, and then Jimin goes to get some water with a strangely driven urgency and he doesn’t say it’s so they don’t have to kiss each other with burrito-breath, but the implication is clear.
While he’s up, Taehyung pops a mint in his mouth and checks his phone.
Yoongi
How’s it going?
Me
Good! So good!! Really good!!
Yoongi
Awesome. I’m happy for you guys.
Me
Thanks! You were right about the flower, good call.
Yoongi
Hyung’s always right.
Me
❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💜💜💜💜
Yoongi
🖤