Chapter Text
Yoongi is in a bad mood.
Hoseok, one of his three friends, would argue that this is nothing new. Namjoon, another of the three friends, would agree and then explain in detail why Yoongi being in a good mood would be far more surprising. There would be statistics. Yoongi would consider punching Namjoon in the face.
Not that he’d actually do it. Punching Namjoon would be like punching a koala bear. Unforgivable.
Regardless, it’s the middle of the night, Yoongi is in his dark living room (forgot to pay the electricity bill, again), his head is pounding, and he has just stepped into something squelchy on the carpet. (Fucking Sunny and her weird fucking fetish for lizards.)
Yoongi is thisclose to screaming.
However, instead of waking up the entire neighborhood with that, he takes in a deep breath, pulls out his phone and doesn’t bother with any searching, just taps in Hoseok’s number while taking off his socks at the same time. The one with which he’d stepped into what is most likely a dead lizard in the middle of his living room has started to soak through, fucking gross.
He brings his phone to his ear, knowing full well that Hoseok is asleep at this ungodly hour. Yoongi will derive a sliver of satisfaction from waking him up.
The line rings and rings and rings, enough for Yoongi to ball up his socks, throw them wherever and start for the sofa, only to bang his toes on the coffee table.
“Ow motherfucking piece of shit FUCK!” he exclaims at the same time Hoseok answers, and Yoongi doesn’t even hear the greeting before he begins,
“Fuck this day, honestly. The whole week has been a fucking disaster, but fuck this Thursday in particular.” He throws himself onto the sofa and closes his eyes, not stopping his rant. “I was at the studio since yesterday - I know, okay, I said I wasn’t gonna work nights anymore, but I can’t- Ugh, I want to finish this thing, I really do, but the last verse is a pain in my ass. I’ve listened to it so many times now that it’s lost all sense to me. I want to burn it. I’m tempted to rip the thing onto a CD just so I can literally set it on fire.
“And then I think, maybe I should leave the studio before I get arrested for arson, so I go to the noodle place, and it’s closed. Fucking closed! How long have we been going there - four, five years? Has it ever been closed? Not even at 4 AM that one time, when we hauled Namjoon’s drunk ass to get some food into his mouth and make him shut up about Jin-hyung for three blessed seconds.
“So I’m about to commit murder, I’m starving, the lights are fucking out because I didn’t pay the bill - I know, human disaster and all that - and there’s a dead lizard or something on the carpet again. I swear to god, Hobi, that cat might be cute, but she’s the spawn of the devil itself.”
Yoongi inhales, then deflates into the impossibly cloud-like cushions, feeling better after having let it all out. Hoseok is probably shocked into speechlessness by the sheer number of words that came out of Yoongi’s mouth; fuck it, it felt good.
“I need sleep,” Yoongi says then, mumbles it as he still feels the dull throb behind his eyebrows. “I need sleep and I need food and I need to fucking. finish. that. track.”
A short silence ensues. Then, an unfamiliar voice, conversational,
“What’s the song about?”
Yoongi freezes. His eyes shoot open towards the dark ceiling.
“Uh,” he says intelligently. That’s not Hoseok.
A giggle from the other side of the line. “Sorry,” the voice says. “I thought it would be rude to interrupt your little rant.”
Yoongi licks his lips. For one crazy second his mind urges - hang up, just hang up, abort, abort - but then the next - at least apologize, dipshit.
“U-um.” Yoongi clears his throat, grateful that his embarrassed flush isn’t noticeable over the phone. “I’m… I’m sorry, for that. I thought you were my friend.”
Another giggle, pleasant. “I gathered that. Somewhere between wanting to set something on fire and getting noodles at 4 AM.”
Fuck. Yoongi covers his eyes with his hand and says, “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” the voice agrees. “Fuck this day, huh?”
“In the ass,” Yoongi says, and the giggle is now louder, tinkling. “Sorry again,” Yoongi says, mentally digging a grave for himself. “I’m- I don’t even know.”
He’s too tired, too wrung out. Coherent thought isn’t possible at this point. It’s exactly why he should just go to bed right this instant and not get up until at least Saturday.
“That’s okay,” the voice says lightly. “I was getting too much beauty sleep anyway.”
“Shit, yeah, I woke you up, didn’t I?” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Kind of,” the voice doesn’t sound bothered by this. “I’m used to it, though, getting woken up in the middle of the night. My friends can be assholes sometimes.”
Despite himself, Yoongi snorts. The easy, lighthearted tone helps him relax a bit; at least one of them isn’t too upset by his idiocy.
“Guess I’m lucky that my friends aren’t assholes,” Yoongi says.
“Yeah, well, you’re the one doing the waking up. If you don’t think you have an asshole in your friend group, it’s because it’s you.”
Yoongi smirks, barely keeping his eyes open. “That’s fair.”
“Did you try to wake your friend up on purpose?”
“Yup.”
“Are you sometimes surprised you have friends at all?” The voice is joking, but Yoongi’s smirk widens; he’s completely honest when he says,
“Yup.”
The voice laughs in his ear, and Yoongi sleepily thinks how it sounds nice...
“Well,” the voice says. “Asshole Friend Caller. It’s been… surreal. Good luck with the dead lizard.”
“Thanks,” Yoongi says. “And sorry, again.”
“Goodnight.”
“‘Night.”
Yoongi ends the call, concludes that the universe is one giant shithole and all future Thursdays should be canceled, and conks out right then and there.
He wakes up to something tickling his face, soft and fluffy, and he squints against the too-bright sunlight pouring in through the basement windows. Sunny is standing on his chest, four small paws digging into his ribs, and she’s purring; annoyingly, deceptively sweet.
“Get off,” Yoongi mumbles, lightly pushing her away, but the calico cat doesn’t budge, purring even louder. Yoongi sighs. “Where did you find it, though,” he muses, more to himself than to her. “Where do you find all these lizards. Why do you bring them back.”
Sunny, of course, has no comment.
Yoongi frowns, now adding a paper dry mouth and a painfully full bladder to his mental list of things why having a physical body is just the worst.
He sits up and Sunny effortlessly leaps down to the floor, her tail curled up as she trots over to the dead lizard on the carpet. She sits down next to it; if Yoongi could assign an expression to a cat face, he’d definitely say that she looks fucking proud.
It’s a smaller lizard this time; Yoongi counts his blessings. Wonders how he’s going to explain yet another bloodstain to the carpet cleaning service.
“Yah, you did a great job, Sun,” he says, scratching his stomach underneath his wrinkled shirt. “Looks like it didn’t suffer much. Clean kill this time.” Unlike when Yoongi had found one lizard in three different places in the apartment. Ugh.
Sunny utters a mrrrraoh and hightails into the kitchen the moment Yoongi stands up. He dutifully follows, fetches a box of cat kibble from an upper cabinet and fills her yellow bowl, taking the one next to it to replace her drinking water.
On his way to the bathroom, he notices his phone on the couch, where it’s been wedged under him while he slept, now blinking with new messages.
***YOUR HOPE***
dinner tonight at the noodle place
if you don’t text back by 4pm I’m coming over to get your body before sunny eats your face <3
me
thank you for that image
it would be funny if it weren’t exactly what the little cat demon would do
see you then
Yoongi taps out of the conversation, and sees a new one, from an unknown number. Different than Hoseok’s only by the last digit.
xxx-xxxxx-xx-x
hope your day goes better than yesterday!
The Person You Woke Up Who Is Not Your Friend (Yet)
Yoongi snorts, throws the phone back onto the couch and finally heads for the bathroom to try and make himself resemble a human being again.
He mostly blames it on that (Yet) later.
When he’s once again in the dark of his small, cheaply rented studio, squeezed between the keyboard and the mic, staring at his laptop screen so hard his eyes start drying out. When he’s full of noodles and hot soup, one beer, and Hoseok’s loud laughter from their dinner earlier ringing in his ears.
Again Yoongi can’t make sense of the fucking verse. It’s off, it’s so off he wants to punch through his screen, but he doesn’t know what is off.
Hoseok, ever the supporter, said it was fine. For a demo song of a no-name rookie singer, it was fine.
Namjoon had his constipated thinking face on, meaning that it was not fine, but he didn’t have any constructive criticism except for, leave it, hyung. Work on something else and then come back to it. You’re too close.
Yoongi glares at Cubase’s interface taking up his entire screen; no, he’s not fucking leaving it until it’s done.
He plays it countless times. Dissects it, piece by piece, changes even the slightest bits he deems not good enough. It’s still wrong, it’s still just - a song. It’s a song. It’s not bad, but it’s not up to Yoongi’s standards either, and it’s driving him crazy.
He grabs his phone off the desk and shoots a text to Hoseok, how he’s changing careers and becoming a couch cushion instead.
Half an hour later, he’s sitting with his forehead pressed into the desk. He hates it, hates it, he’s tired, he needs to get this done by Monday, he h a t e s it.
Hoseok still hasn’t replied. He’s in late practice again, and so Yoongi thumbs through his phone, contemplating texting Namjoon; but he and Seokjin are having a date night and so he’d be bothering Seokjin as well. Yoongi isn’t sure how he feels about hijacking their romance time. They’re probably doing things Yoongi doesn’t want to picture them doing anyway.
Then he pauses on the new conversation with the unknown number. He remembers the voice from yesterday night - or early morning.
It was a nice voice, Yoongi’s tortured brain supplies. Sweet and warm and coupled with a bright, honest laugh.
He taps into the conversation, reads the one message.
(Yet)
It’s like... almost like... an invitation. A possibility of… what? A friendship? An acquaintance? Late-night rants?
Fuck it.
Yoongi writes out, I hate music and sends it before the sane part of his mind catches up and describes to him just how much of a dumbass he’s being.
He sets the phone aside, tries to put it out of his thoughts, and turns back to his laptop.
Not two minutes later, there’s an incoming call. From the unknown number.
A series of fuckfuckfuckfuck reverberates through Yoongi’s head. He hesitates for a moment, a brief check of his mental functions, before he swipes to answer and is instantly greeted with a laugh; the same one from last night, lively and bell-like.
“I thought you worked with music,” the voice says.
The voice, fuck, Yoongi doesn’t even know this person’s name, what the fuck is he doing--
“You said you were at the studio, and that you had a track to finish.”
Yoongi clears his throat, trying to sound nonchalant about the fact that he’s talking to a complete stranger the second night in a row, while not actually expecting any kind of emergency, repair or shady services from them.
“U-um,” he says, and fails at the nonchalance.
The voice laughs again as Yoongi groans and covers his face.
“I do work with music,” he mumbles, “and I hate working with music.”
“Really hate it or just hate it right now because something’s not going right?”
Yoongi pauses. “If it’s the second one, does it make me sound like a bratty five-year-old?”
“Kind of,” the voice says, and Yoongi hears the smile in the tone.
“Fine, it is the second one. It’s not going right and I hate it.”
“What’s wrong with the song?”
“Well, if I knew what was wrong I would’ve fixed it by now, wouldn’t I?” Yoongi’s voice doesn’t have much bite to it, but still he winces, anticipating a hang-up.
The voice isn’t offended, however.
“Wow, touchy. Okay, so you didn’t answer my question from yesterday.” The fact that there is a yesterday with a person Yoongi knows absolutely nothing about is so unbelievable to him he almost questions if he’s really awake at all. “What’s the song about?”
“I don’t know.” Yoongi lowers his hand, moves his mouse to wake up the computer. Stares at all the 2D equalizers and options. “Beginnings, I guess. Dreams. Coming to a big city to make it.”
“Hm. Is it yours?”
“No,” Yoongi is quick to say, but then he amends. “I mean, I did write it, my name is on it, but I don’t think of it as mine.” He hasn’t written something that is his for a long time now. Too long. “It’s for this unknown singer, who’s trying to get into the business.”
“Did the singer hear it?”
“No, not the final version. Which I’m supposed to have by Monday. If I finish it.”
The voice hums again, accompanied by rustling on the other side, like they’re making themselves more comfortable. “Well. I would love to help, but I know absolutely nothing about making music. Listening to it, sure. Dancing to it, definitely. But not producing, sorry.”
“That’s okay. I wasn’t counting on you being some insanely talented worldwide known music genius or something.”
Another laugh. “No?”
“Maybe a little.”
A louder laugh. Yoongi finds himself smiling, too.
“So…” the voice says.
“So.”
Yoongi spots a stray eraser on his desk and starts fiddling with it. He doesn’t really know what to say, now that he’s voiced what was bothering him and is feeling a bit better.
“I’m Jimin,” the voice offers first.
Jimin. A nice name, for a nice voice.
“I’m Yoongi. Nice to meet you, Jimin-ssi.”
“You too, Yoongi-ssi. A little weird, I have to say, but nice.”
Yoongi chuckles. “Sorry. I apparently have to find a better outlet for my frustrations.”
“Better than dialing random numbers and venting to whoever happens to pick up? I agree.”
“Excuse me, I didn’t dial any numbers today. You were the one who called me.”
“Hm, that is true,” Jimin concedes.
“I expected you’d ignore me. I also did not expect the text from this morning.”
Jimin’s laugh is joyful, musical. “I dunno, I guess… I just got invested? You were really funny yesterday, with your shitty day and your lizard-murdering cat - which, by the way, I want to know more about - and you being obviously unfit for adulthood-”
“Hey,” Yoongi interrupts, indignant. “I am not-”
“Did you pay your electricity bill?” Jimin asks easily.
Yoongi stops playing with the eraser. “...shit.”
He forgot about it. He had slept in, and it was daylight when he was home, when he scraped lizard remains off his carpet (while gagging only once, a new personal best), left a full bowl of kibble for Sunny and stepped out to get coffee and breakfast before going back to the studio. He had no need for anything electric, and most of his equipment and chargers are at the studio anyway.
“I believe the words human disaster were used?” Jimin asks teasingly.
“Yeah, yeah, ugh, fine. Like you never forgot to pay a bill or something.”
“Mmmm… Not that I know of. But I live with a roommate, so-” A pause. “No, forget that, Tae’s absolutely useless. If he was left to his own devices, this apartment would’ve burned to the ground a long time ago. With him in it, VR goggles over his eyes.”
Yoongi laughs quietly. “Sounds like you’re surrounded by human disasters.”
“Guess so. I must be a magnet for your kind.” Jimin sighs, breath like static in Yoongi’s ear. “You don’t have a roommate? Or… I don’t know, someone you live with?”
“No, now it’s just me and Sunny. That’s the cat. Though she’s not exactly my cat.” Yoongi frowns, leaning back in his chair and sliding down until he’s almost horizontal. “I feel like I’m more her human than the other way around.”
“Sunny. Sounds like a happy cat.”
“Psycho lizard killer.”
Jimin laughs. “Tell me about her.”
So Yoongi does.
Despite the late hour, the fact that he has more work to do - to finish this song and work on others he has deadlines for; despite the fact that he has a name, and only a name, to pin to his faceless companion - Yoongi tells him about the cat.
About how he lives in a basement apartment, and how he came home one day to find a small, scraggly, white and black and brown kitten sleeping on his couch. He’d left the kitchen window open and she had either fallen in or purposefully jumped inside.
Yoongi tells Jimin how he didn’t know what to do at first; how he called his friends, and how Hoseok showed up with bowls and pillows and cat food and cooed at her and named her Sunny before Yoongi even considered keeping her. Which is sort of classic Hoseok, now that he thinks about it; instantly sniffing out a Good Thing for Yoongi and accepting it, encouraging it before Yoongi himself even realizes what’s happening.
Because ultimately Sunny is a good thing. After Namjoon had moved out to live with Seokjin, Yoongi had been… He guesses he’d been lonely, in a way. He’s naturally closed-off, introverted, and really he hadn’t even noticed how gloomy it had been, coming home to an empty apartment. How it was too quiet.
Not to say that Sunny is always there. The kitchen window remains open at all times, even in winter - the basement apartment is shabby but at least the heating is good - and she comes and goes whenever she likes. Sometimes Yoongi doesn’t see her for a couple of days.
But often she’s there when he returns from the studio, and she tolerates his pats on the head and sleeps with him wherever he happens to knock out.
She’s a menace, but she’s good company.
“And the lizards?” Jimin prompts once Yoongi finishes.
Wow, he’d been talking for a good while now. His mouth feels dry, so he grabs a bottle of water from the stash under his desk; one which mysteriously keeps getting replenished, and the replenishments happen to coincide with the times Hoseok or Seokjin come around.
Yoongi takes a sip and sighs. “The lizards are… I have no idea what they are. I lost count after the twelfth one. She doesn’t eat them. I’m not sure if cats eat lizards anyway. Maybe. But she just kills them and leaves them there. On the floor.”
“You know,” Jimin starts, “I heard that cats leave dead things for their owners like… as a gift, kind of? Sometimes like a gift, to show thanks, sometimes because they’re proud of their kill, and sometimes… I think that sometimes she’s just trying to feed you.”
Yoongi snorts. “Feed me.”
“Yeah. Maybe you’re really skinny and she’s worried about you.”
Now Yoongi laughs, fingers picking at the water bottle label. “Well. I am skinny, I guess. But not because I don’t eat.” He stops, reconsiders. “Actually, I don’t eat that often because I forget to eat, but it’s not on purpose or anything.”
“Human disaster~” Jimin sing-songs in a surprisingly lyrical voice.
“Fuck off.”
“I’m saving your contact as that in my phone.”
“Oh my god.”
Jimin hums, then decides to change the topic. “You work very hard,” he says. It’s not a question. More like an observation. Or praise.
Yoongi shakes his head, even though Jimin can’t see him. “No, no, I just. I just don’t have much of a life.”
“Hm. From what I’ve heard of your life so far, it doesn’t sound too bad.”
Yoongi smiles a little. No, it really doesn’t sound too bad, he supposes. Not nearly as bad as how it used to be.
Now he’s mostly okay, and mostly content, and now he doesn’t feel like he’s thrashing in the deep, desperate for someone to throw him a lifeline before he gets pulled under.
“Well, it’s- fuck, it’s almost 2AM,” Jimin says, surprised.
“Oh shit, sorry. I kept you up. I’m. Fuck. Yes. You should- You should go to sleep.”
But Jimin’s voice is soft when he says, “Yeah, I will. And you should consider not working through the night.”
“No promises.”
Jimin laughs. “Thank you for the chat, Yoongi-ssi. I hope you finish that song on time. And up to your standards. Which sound like they’re way too high, by the way.”
“I like things done a certain way, so sue me.”
“Alright, alright.” Jimin laughs more. “I’d, um. If you want to, I wouldn’t mind hearing how it goes on Monday?”
Somehow, Yoongi finds that he doesn’t have a problem with this. After all, Jimin is the one who kept him company today while he was frustrated with his work; he deserves to know the results of it.
“Sure. I’ll text you.”
“Okay. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Jimin-ssi.”
Yoongi ends the call and stays at the studio for the next hour and a half.
He finishes the song, up to his standards.
It’s not that Yoongi doesn’t know that his standards are sometimes - often - too high.
He knows.
He knows exactly how high they can become, and how detrimental that can be to… pretty much everything. To his mental health, to his work, to his ability to function as an adult.
Yoongi still has his notebooks from before; the ones where he used to jot down ideas, to brainstorm, craft lyrics and test out lines. They’re safe in the bottom drawer of his rickety desk at home, proof of just how bad it can get if he lets his standards, his constant search for perfection, run rampant.
On Monday night, Yoongi returns to his dusty apartment just before midnight, exhausted and sluggish from too much beef and too many beers. He kicks off his boots, beelines straight for the sofa and faceplants on it.
It is no surprise that Sunny jumps on top of him and happily curls up in the small of his back, so that even if he thinks of moving sometime in the future, he can’t.
The meeting went well. The singer was thrilled with the song, Yoongi was satisfied with the second half of his payment, and all in all, it was a job well done. Yoongi wished the singer good luck in his career - and the guy’s got potential, he could really make a name for himself - and then got dragged out by Namjoon and Seokjin and Hoseok for a celebration.
“It’s nothing worth celebrating,” Yoongi had complained, allowing Hoseok to tug him along the bustling street lined with small, cheap noodle joints.
“How many times did he complain about the song to you, Hobi?” Namjoon asked from behind them.
“Exactly twenty-two times. I counted.”
“Eight times to me,” Seokjin piped in, walking arm in arm with Namjoon.
“And fourteen to me. Which makes it a total of forty-four.” Namjoon whistled. “Is that a new record?”
Hoseok shook his head. “Nope. His record is whining fifty-three times to all three of us plus his brother combined when he lost his apartment keys.”
“Since when do you talk to my brother?” Yoongi wanted to know, at which Hoseok smiled sweetly.
“Since it became my life’s goal to make you pay for all the hours I spent listening to you bitch about things.”
“I don’t bitch about-”
“Which is why,” Namjoon sidled up to them and led the way into their regular noodle place, greasy and crowded and probably a health hazard, but at this point a permanent fixture in their group’s dynamic, “you’re buying tonight.”
“And I’m ordering three portions of naengmyeon.” Seokjin beamed, allowing Hoseok to pull Yoongi inside ahead of him.
Yoongi really needed to get some new friends.
Except that he didn’t. Except that, despite poking fun at him, the three of them were genuinely happy that he finished the job that bothered him so much, and clinked beer bottles with him and, in the end, made him smile wider than he’d ever admit to.
With his face buried in the sofa cushions, Yoongi tries to reach for his phone in his back pocket. His fingers meet soft, fluffy fur and he feels a meow-purr travel up his spine.
“Ugh, Sunny. I just need my phone. Can you… not? For a sec?”
The calico playfully bites him, her small teeth too pointy to not sting. Yoongi groans.
“We’re not playing. We’re trying to get my phone. I’m trying to get my phone. Can you-” He has trouble reaching over her to his pocket, and then she’s also still trying to gnaw at his thumb. “No-” She adds a paw as well, her razor-sharp claws digging into his wrist. “Ughgghgh,” Yoongi groans again, and gives up.
When she settles some minutes later, he makes another attempt and this time successfully bypasses the mound of fur on his back to get the phone. He brings it up to his face and squints at the bright screen.
He did say he was going to send a text.
He remembers it.
It’s kind of dumb, because not like Jimin will be disappointed if they never talk again; not like they have anything of importance going on.
But Yoongi also kind of wants to tell him how it went. He likes Jimin’s voice. His laugh. Jimin sounds like a merry, open type of a person; easy to like, easy to make friends with.
Yoongi has never thought of himself as someone who enjoys making friends, but-
He shoots a text.
me
song was good
got money
home
can’t move because sunny
He spends the next few minutes scrolling through his feeds and glancing over who got married, whose kid barfed some green goo, who traveled where and what they ate during the trip. Then he gets a reply.
unknown jimin
WHOOOO
congrats yoongi-ssi!
knew you could do it!
also not moving because cat is a great place to be rn
Yoongi smiles.
me
thanks
she’s tiny but her claws are not to be fucked with
I hope you’re at an equally good place
unknown jimin
not really
waiting for train
going home
long day
me
I feel that
what do you do?
And that’s sort of how it starts.
Jimin doesn’t call like last time, and Yoongi sticks to texting as well, but he learns more about his strange new acquaintance.
He learns that Jimin teaches dance at this tiny studio somewhere in the city. That his students are mostly children, ages four to twelve, but that he also holds classes for adult beginners, twice a week.
Jimin likes contemporary ballet, of course deeply rooted in the foundations of classical, and he’s very opinionated about people who scoff at any type of dance; it’s all a matter of personal preference, and he enjoys making his classes interesting for kids by adding elements of ballroom, hip-hop and traditional Korean.
Yoongi finds his passion admirable and endearing. He reads as Jimin types about his schedules, about the organization that goes into each week of classes and how meticulous he is about the end-of-the-year shows, where all of his students can showcase what they’ve learned to their friends and families.
Jimin as a dance teacher seems to be an unusual combination of playful and carefree, but also determined and laser-focused.
me
I would probably hate you as my dance teacher
unknown jimin
kjshdjhah no one is there against their will
our studio is not a big company or anything
tho I do hope to one day organize prep classes to help students get into dance academies
but not yet
maybe next year
are you a good dancer, yoongi-ssi?
me
I’ve been known to nod my head to the beat
from time to time
when I’m drunk
and think no one’s watching me
Yoongi has an instant flashback of the time when he got way too hammered on some pink shots Seokjin had concocted, and practically started stripping on Hoseok’s coffee table.
Hoseok’s sister had tucked a 10 000 won bill into his jeans when he had seductively offered a peek of his pasty stomach. Namjoon asked Hoseok to take Yoongi down from the table and Hoseok had replied with, “In a minute, I want to see if he’ll flash a nipple.”
Yoongi had, in fact, flashed a nipple. There’s video evidence. It is the single most humiliating ordeal of his life, and he had vowed never to drink Seokjin’s cocktail inventions ever again.
But Jimin doesn’t need to know any of that.
me
one of my friends is a good dancer
a great dancer
the one I mentioned before, who named sunny
he does choreo for rookie idols at this company
unknown jimin
wow
that’s so cool
me
he called me a wet paper towel in terms of my dancing skills one time
so
I assume I’m not very good at dancing
unknown jimin
hahah that’s okay
at least you’re good at making music?
me
eh
decent, yeah
unknown jimin
k I’m at my apt now
I’d
actually love to keep txting
but pretty sure I’ll get tackled the moment I open the door
bcs I’ve been gone since lunch
and tae’s probably been by himself
so
puppies needing constant attention and all that
me
didn’t you say
tae
was your roommate?
unknown jimin
yeah
I wish I could explain the correlation between tae and a huge cuddly puppy
but you just have to meet him to get it
me
hah
ok
good night
unknown jimin
night yoongi-ssi
congrats again
it was nice talking to you
again
me
thnx
same
Yoongi falls asleep like that, on his front, with Sunny warming his back. In the morning, it proves to be the worst idea in the history of bad ideas, as it takes Yoongi almost half an hour to somehow get himself upright. He questions why people need back muscles and why are spines a thing and why he can’t just be a puddle of rainwater in his next life.
unknown jimin
[image attached]
reminded me of sunny!
me
this one looks like it could eat sunny
unkown jimin
noooooooooooooooo
she’s cuuuuuteeee
met her on my way to the studio just now
cuddly kitty
me
[image attached]
sunny is tiny
(banana next to her for size reference)
(she was not happy about the banana)
unknown jimin
sadjkasdjfgl
KITTY
K I T T Y
KITTY
she is almost as small as the banana omg
KITTY
me
concentrated evil
unknown jimin
TINY KITTY
THANK you for sending me pictures of her yoongi-ssi !!!
I’m off to deal with rowdy four year olds
hope you have a nice evening!
me
thnx
you too
me
[recording attached]
does this sound too generic?
can’t really tell anymore
it’s like smth I already heard before
unknown jimin
it’s only like 15 secs
I need to hear more to know what it’s like
is this what you’re working on now?
me
can I call you and play it to you?
unknown jimin
yes!
Sometimes, he gets ideas for new beats. New melodies. Songs that would be his; that would be about what he wanted to say and what he wanted to put out into the world. With his words, and his voice, and his energy.
Yoongi gets stuck with an idea, and he thinks about it for days. Can’t sleep at times. Can’t stop repeating it, turning it over in his mind, imagining…
Imagining what it could become.
Then he promptly shuts it off, chains it into the corner all his other ideas go to wither away, and forces himself to move on. To let it go.
He doesn't write them down. Doesn't commit the ideas to anything that’s outside his own head.
It used to terrify him. He's not sure if it still does.
unknown jimin
so
[image attached]
tae tried to make a smoothie
me
oh my god
unknown jimin
yeah
he figured the top lid of the blender wasn’t too important
so now we’re scrubbing the smoothie off the tiles
and the counter
and the floor
some of it’s on the ceiling
me
I always say
a healthy diet is not for everyone
unknown jimin
I support him in making smart eating choices
but just
ufgh
anyway
how was your day?
Jimin likes sending pictures of cats; all cats, not only calico ones. Of dogs, too. Sometimes he sends a picture of a sunset or a pretty cloud on a clear November day.
He shares book titles that he reads and rates them from 1 to 5 and grumbles about the ones he didn’t like.
He sends a picture of the backs of his roommate and another friend as the two are playing video games. It is quickly followed by a picture of a hole in the wall from when this third person, Jungkook as Yoongi learns, attempted to recreate a fight move a game character did and put his fist through the plaster.
Yoongi, in turn, shares clips of the songs he’s working on, and appreciates Jimin’s opinions and reactions. (good dance beat; sounds like smth my grandma would listen to; this is amazing!; is that a trumpet? I don’t understand the trumpet)
He sends pictures of Sunny, sleeping on the sofa and sleeping next to him on the bed and sleeping on his chest - though he’s careful not to include his face. He also sends a picture of the newest unlucky lizard, smeared across the kitchen tiles.
Yoongi shares his cooking attempts, the recipes he finds online that he tries to make, always vigilant that Sunny doesn’t stick her nose where she shouldn’t during the process.
It’s nice. It’s easy.
It happens almost every day now, and is something that Yoongi is starting to look forward to. Texting with Jimin; sending him something interesting, or getting something fun in return; hearing his voice if they talk, and his contagious laugh.
me
[image attached]
so I was wondering why the water wasn’t boiling
jimin
that’s a picture of an empty pot
me
indeed
it is 12:17AM and I have been waiting for an empty pot to boil for almost an hour now
it started to smell a little
the bottom of it is a little black
jimin
ahahdhshahah
you’re almost as bad as tae and kook
me
I’m so tired
jimin
aw yoongi-ssi
I’m sorry
I need to brush my teeth, but I’m gonna call you in like 5mins
jimin
the show is about an ice kingdom
sort of like frozen if you know what that is
but less… idk
not like frozen
me
like frozen but not like frozen
got it
jimin
kids are gonna be winter elves
and spring elves
and there’s a spring queen
and we didn’t have a winter queen
so
long story short
I’m playing the winter queen in this year’s showcase
me
oh wow
jimin
don’t laugh
it’s for the kids
me
not laughing
will there be like a winter queen costume
jimin
yeah
sparkly
probably with a tutu
me
I have to see that
jimin
hah
fine
when I get it I’ll send you a pic
me
I’m sure you’ll make a great winter queen jimin-ssi
jimin
thanks yoongi-ssi
“He’s smiling,” Hoseok notices.
“He’s texting and smiling,” Namjoon corrects.
“But,” Seokjin starts, “if you two are here, and I’m here, and none of us are on our phones… then who’s he texting?”
“Whoa,” Hoseok says, mindblown.
“I can hear you,” Yoongi mutters, and looks up from his phone. He’s sitting by himself on one side of the booth, his three friends crammed together opposite him. “Why are you all over there?”
“We like to touch each other,” Seokjin, in the middle, says. “Who’re you texting, Yoongi?”
“No one.”
He’s been in the middle of describing their usual noodle place to Jimin, after having sent a picture of this one suspiciously orange stain at their regular table.
They had made that stain the first time they ever came in here; Hoseok made it, actually, after he’d ordered a bowl of something super spicy and couldn’t handle the super part. There was sauce all over Namjoon as well, and somehow, even after so many years, the original stain on the tabletop never went away. Yoongi is loathed to find out what really was in that sauce. At least it didn’t burn holes through Namjoon’s face when it happened.
“I mean… Is it like… No,” Seokjin says, dramatic disbelief in his expression. “It can’t be.”
“What? What?” Hoseok asks.
“Something unfathomable. Something so unimaginable it has never been spoken of until now.”
“You’re scaring me, hyung,” Namjoon joins in, and Yoongi’s gaze goes flat. They’re despicable sometimes.
“Is it possible? Is it truly happening? Does…” Seokjin lays a hand on his chest and closes his eyes; Yoongi half expects a single cinematic tear to roll down his cheek from how much he’s into this. “Does Min Yoongi have other friends?”
Hoseok gasps, covering his mouth, and Namjoon presses his lips together to stop from laughing out loud.
“Har har,” Yoongi drawls, locking his phone and putting it away. “Like I never make friends.”
He gets three identical unimpressed glares in return.
“I asked you out for beers in my sophomore year,” Namjoon recounts, even though Yoongi remembers this well. “I was a senior and you were a postgraduate when you finally took me up on the offer.”
“I work up to things,” Yoongi says.
“A year and a half, hyung! It took you a year and a half to say, Yah, Kim Namjoon, how ‘bout those beers? ”
“And you only know us,” Hoseok adds with a smile, laying his head on Seokjin’s shoulder, “because we come with the full Kim Namjoon package.”
“Befriend one, get the other two for free.” Seokjin nods. “If you’re worthy.”
“Not gonna lie, at first we thought you weren’t worthy. What with the resting bitch face and all,” Hoseok says.
“The general gremlin vibe,” Seokjin adds, gesturing to the whole of Yoongi.
“But then we realized that you’re kind of cool.”
“Hard-working,” Namjoon says.
“Hopeless,” Seokjin contributes generously.
“And we couldn’t help but think how you wouldn’t survive without our help.” Hoseok grins and reaches over to pinch Yoongi’s cheek, but Yoongi bats his hand away.
“Fine,” he grumbles. His phone buzzes with Jimin’s reply, but he suppresses the urge to check it. “So I’m slow at making friends.”
“So… you being like this with someone else means you really like the person,” Namjoon says, and now he’s serious. No more teasing, no more making fun of him. Just honesty. Maybe a hint of concern; are you okay, are they good to you, do you enjoy talking to them.
Yoongi takes a moment to look at his friends. At how, yes, they’re a pain in his ass, and Hoseok is too loud and Seokjin is too chaotic and Namjoon is too abstract, but they’ve been by his side for years now. Through thick and thin; when he didn’t have enough money to support himself and Namjoon had moved in with him to pay rent; when Seokjin had cooked for them every day so he would have something to eat; when he couldn’t get out of bed from how heavy his heart was, his soul, and Hoseok had dragged him up to at least take a shower…
They’re right; Yoongi wouldn’t have survived without them. When the music had gone quiet in his mind and the world lost its color for a while, they were the ones who stuck by him. Who helped him get back on his feet and find his voice again.
They care about him. A lot. And it goes without saying that he, in turn, very much cares about them, too.
So when the waitress sets down their steaming bowls of delicious noodles, Yoongi says, “His name is Jimin. I accidentally dialed his number when I wanted to talk to Hobi one night. I think… about a month ago now?”
In between the slurping and the munching and Seokjin guarding his bowl from Namjoon and Hoseok’s chopstick advances, Yoongi tells them what little (or not so little; it doesn’t feel like little to him anymore) he knows about Jimin. He tells them how they often text and talk on the phone, and how, yeah, maybe Jimin has become a new friend, in a way.
“Is he hot?” is the first thing Hoseok asks, picking up his bowl and drinking the last of the broth directly from it.
“No idea.” Yoongi pushes his empty bowl away and uses a napkin to wipe his mouth. Then he takes advantage of being the only one on his side of the booth and leans back and stretches his legs out underneath the table. “Dunno what he looks like.”
“Well, he’s a dancer, so he must be hot,” Namjoon says.
“Aw, thank you, Joon-ah.” Hoseok winks at him, at which Namjoon smiles, dimples and all. He’s decidedly ignoring how Seokjin is fishing around his half-eaten bowl in search of juicy slices of anything edible.
Yoongi sighs, so full that the first button of his jeans might pop off and take someone’s eye out.
He hadn’t wondered what Jimin looked like. He’s been content with just the voice, the laugh, the cheerful personality; content with the idea of Jimin, somewhere out there in this large city, petting cats and teaching children how to pirouette and stopping his friends from breaking down his apartment in their enthusiasm.
Not knowing what Jimin looks like, partially treating him as a faceless entity, has been one of the reasons why it’s been comfortable for Yoongi to talk to him the way he does; to chat about everything and nothing, to share bits of his daily life.
But the fact is that Jimin is a person. A real, live person, just like Yoongi is. Thus, it stands to reason that Jimin looks like a person, too.
“You’re wondering if he’s hot, aren’t you.” Seokjin smirks and shoves a piece of Namjoon’s pork into his mouth.
“I’m… No,” Yoongi says. “Just never thought about what he might be like, physically.”
“Does he know what you look like?” Namjoon asks.
“No. I only send pictures of Sunny.”
“Well, then.” Seokjin sets down his chopsticks, having looted all he could from the other portions. “That’s something to consider, in the moments when you’re alone and lying in bed in the dark, thinking about your new friend and whether or not he might be visually appealing.”
Yoongi scoffs. “Doesn’t matter if he’s visually appealing. We’re just texting.”
“Hm,” Namjoon remarks. “Texting and smiling. ”
That night, when Yoongi is alone and lying in bed in the dark, absolutely not thinking about his new friend and whether or not he might be visually appealing, he indulges in a brief fantasy of knocking in Seokjin’s teeth.
But then that’s not as satisfying as he thought it would feel, so Yoongi resolves to just resent him and his stupid handsome face and stupid comments.
Because Yoongi doesn’t need this. He doesn’t need to wonder what Jimin looks like. It absolutely does not matter. If Jimin were short or tall or hot or not or had a third eye or yellow teeth or whatever, Yoongi would still want to talk to him; tell him about Sunny and listen about children failing at ballet.
And yet, as Yoongi watches Sunny soundlessly leap up onto the bed and make her way over to him, he does wonder. Not because it matters but because it would be nice to get a general picture - height, hair color, basic shit like that.
To maybe have a vague image to pin to the voice and the personality.
Sunny sits leaning into his side, starts purring and kneading the comforter. Yoongi absently pats her head, at which she purrs louder; such a large sound contained in such a small being.
“Who gives a shit in the end,” Yoongi mutters to her. “Right? Not like we’re ever going to meet or anything.”
Sunny glances at him in a way that makes it clear how she - a supreme being - is completely uninterested in his pitiful mortal dilemmas. Then she curls up to sleep like that, pressed up against him.
Sometimes, the mere presence of that bottom drawer in his apartment, in his living space, somehow puts him on edge.
He can’t decide yet if it’s in a good way or a bad way.
Yoongi just becomes acutely aware of his past, of his potential stored away in that desk, those notebooks, that he often has to leave his house to clear his head. He has to call up any one of his friends and meet them, listen to them, and not…
Not let his thoughts hyperfixate on this one thing. One small thing.
He’s fine. He’s doing music again, for other people, and he’s fine.
jimin
I love them
but sometimes I just want to
jump on their necks a little bit
me
hah
what now
jimin
just
let’s just say that indoor football is not a good idea
we have a hole in our kitchen window now
me
you needed a hole in your window to realize that indoor football was a bad idea?
jimin
no
kind of
we weren’t sober
kookie promised he’d be careful
we’re never getting our deposit back
if we ever move out
if we don’t all tragically meet our demise in that apt
me
an outcome that is likelier with each passing day
jimin
ugh thanks
me
no prob
here
[image attached]
maybe this helps
jimin
KITTY
me
it started as a joke
but by now it’s like
a thing
their thing
or our thing
every time they came to my place
they used to put my coffee can on the highest shelf
bcs they knew I couldn’t reach
and so at first it was funny to them
maybe even to me
but now I just keep my coffee there
bcs it saves everyone the effort
of repeating the prank
even tho I still can’t reach
without climbing the countertops
jimin
so
you’re short
me
that’s what you take from all of this
that I’m short
jimin
lmao yes
a coffee addict with tall friends who think they’re funny
but ultimately
you’re short
me
wow
coming after me like this
jimin
hfnffhj
it’s okay yoongi-ssi
I’m not that tall either
just kinda
from your voice
pictured you as tall
old
wise
me
that implies that I’m not
jimin
short
old-ish, more in spirit than in age
a dork
me
why are we talking again
Seokjin sends him pictures of Jimin; pictures of Jimins. Every single male Jimin he finds online, averaging two pics per day.
Turns out, there are a lot of people named Jimin on Facebook, Instagram, and even Twitter, when there’s not even a family name to somewhat narrow down the choice. At this rate, the sun will explode, the Earth will get swallowed by a black hole, and Seokjin would still be sending Yoongi pictures and asking:
jin-hyung
[image attached]
is this him
me
ffs
how would I know
jin-hyung
does he look like your jimin would sound
me
do I look like I would sound
jin-hyung
good point
you look like a marshmallow
ergo you’d probably sound like a marshmallow
roasted
me
that’s
what
jin-hyung
it was funnier in my head
anyway, better luck tomorrow!
Yoongi doesn’t ask. He’s never had any online friends, he doesn’t know what the etiquette is, so he doesn’t ask Jimin directly what he looks like; doesn’t send a pic of himself because he’d prolong the moment of revealing his unremarkable face until the day it comes out in an obituary, preferably. Because of that, it’s only fair that he doesn’t ask Jimin for a selfie.
It’s fine.
He doesn’t need to know what Jimin looks like.
me
[image attached]
it took some tinkering
this is actually my fourth attempt
but
it tastes good?
jimin
djsahomg
it looks so delicious
wow
the meat looks so… juicy?
I want it
the rice and the meat and the sauce
all of it
am so hungry
on the train home from dance practice
me
hah
sunny was staring at me the whole time I was eating
I would have shared
but the sauce and the spice isn’t good for her, so
jimin
it’s amazing
your cooking all looks so good yoongi-ssi
well
except that one time
with the rock cake
that you almost broke a tooth on
me
yeah
never baking again
It happens one random Wednesday afternoon that Yoongi takes out one of his old notebooks.
He has his electronics, he has his laptop and his equipment - at the studio anyway - but he likes writing by hand. Used to like? Likes, still. It made the idea more real somehow, made the project he was working on more genuine. He can’t explain it, really.
But he takes out a notebook from his Don’t Do This To Yourself drawer, opens it on a random page, and starts reading.
He remembers the song he was messing with when he was writing the notes.
It was a song that was supposed to go onto his mixtape, a song he had completed but that got cut at the last second. Yoongi probably has the files to it somewhere in a Seriously, Don’t Do This To Yourself folder on his computer.
He had written this song; produced it; it exists. It’s his song, down to the core.
Yoongi closes the notebook and inhales deeply.
He’d like to write again. For himself. He’d like to try, maybe.
Maybe.
Yes, it still terrifies him.
jimin
yoongi-ssi
you awake ?
can I call you?
It’s past midnight and Yoongi has become one with the sofa. The TV is on and playing some movie, and there’s a calico-cat-shaped loaf next to him. Scrunched wrappers of honey butter chips and dried squid are all over him, the sofa, and the cat loaf.
The loaf didn’t even notice when Yoongi had precariously balanced a biscuit wrapper ball on her head, where it still sits. He’d snapped a picture of it to send to Namjoon. Namjoon had advised him to get a better hobby.
Without stopping to question the messages, Yoongi gives Jimin a call. It’s not unusual that they talk this late; most often Yoongi is at the studio and working and needing a break, but they’ve been known to talk even on his days off, like today.
“Does the blue-faced guy die?” is the first thing Yoongi asks when Jimin picks up.
“What?”
“In the freedom movie. The guy with the blue face. English? American? But about Scotland, I think.”
“Braveheart?”
“That one! Does he die?”
There’s a hint of Jimin’s laugh on the other line, tugging at the corners of Yoongi’s own lips. It’s hard not to smile when Jimin is laughing. “Yes, Yoongi-ssi, he dies.”
“Ah, well, not watching that until the end, then,” Yoongi says and nopes out of the movie, goes back to browsing through Netflix. “What’s up?”
“Hm, nothing.” Now Yoongi can hear that Jimin is outside, from the occasional car that whooshes past. “Just… ah, nothing.”
Yoongi stops looking through the movie library; focuses on the tone of Jimin’s voice, how it's little pensive. A little bothered maybe.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Mmyeah. Just thinking.” Jimin says nothing for a moment, and when Yoongi is about to ask what he’s thinking about, he continues, “I feel like… I mean. Am I wrong, for not wanting more out of life?”
Yoongi glances at how he’s sunken into his sofa; how there are at least eight different snack wrappers scattered around him, crumbs collected in the folds of his wrinkled t-shirt. A cat with a cellophane ball balanced on top of her head is sleeping next to him, and Yoongi thinks how he is not a suitable person to answer that question. At all.
“U-um…” he wants to try anyway. Because this is something that seems to be weighing on Jimin’s mind at the moment, and he’d chosen to talk to Yoongi about it, for whatever reason. So Yoongi is going to try. “More like what?”
“Like… I don’t know, like… A bigger career? More things? Fame. Stardom?”
Huh. So it’s going to be that kind of a Friday. Okay. Yoongi straightens up a bit, brushes some of the crumbs off his chest.
“Is there a reason you should want these things?” he asks.
“No? I don’t know?” Jimin sighs. “I don’t think there’s a reason I should want them, and if there is, I don’t see it.”
“So… then… Why do you need to want them?”
“Because… ugh, no, forget it.” Now Jimin sounds frustrated, though Yoongi can’t tell if it’s at himself or at something - or somebody - else. “Because I talked to someone and they made me feel like… like this wasn’t enough. This- like, me, and what I do and… that I should be aiming for more. For much more than I’m doing right now. Like… trying out for a dance tour or a big company or something.”
“Uh-huh. And you don’t agree with them?”
“No? No,” Jimin repeats, more firmly the second time. “I’ve never… That’s not me. I’m happy where I am. I love my job, I love dancing and working with kids. I love Tae and Jungkookie and- I don’t need more. Right? I don’t need more than that.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“I… hm.” Jimin falls quiet, and Yoongi lets him parse it through. “I’m telling you,” he says in the end. “I don’t need- I don’t want more than that.”
Yoongi hums. He doesn’t know who this person is, who brought this on Jimin, but Yoongi kinda wants to step on their face a little bit. Making him doubt himself, doubt his life and his choices, what the fuck.
“Kinda sounds like you have your answer, then,” Yoongi says. “About whether or not you’re right for not wanting more.”
“Yeah.” Jimin groans into his ear. “Fuck, ugh. I hate it when I… I hate this.”
“Hey, it’s okay. I mean, not okay in the sense that whoever made you feel like this should suck on a dynamite stick, but… but it’s normal to question yourself. From time to time.” Idly, Yoongi flicks away the biscuit wrapper from Sunny’s head and pats her. She murps and starts purring right away. “Just as long as you’re not… either holding yourself back or forcing yourself to do something you don’t want to.”
“Dynamite stick,” Jimin echoes, now a faint smile in his voice.
“You really focus on the most unexpected shit when I talk.”
The faint amusement turns into a faint laugh, and Yoongi much prefers that to the frustration from earlier.
“It’s just an interesting image. But no, Yoongi-ssi, I heard you. I know, I… I know. I just let them tell me how I can do so much more and how I can be so great, and how I shouldn’t limit myself to a small dance studio or just teaching children, like- Even if that’s true, it made it sound like what I am right now, currently, was…” he trails off, searching for the word, and Yoongi supplies,
“Inadequate.”
“Yes! So just- UGH. I listened to that and I thought… Is there something wrong with me. That I’m just... really okay with what I have now?”
In the bluish tint of the TV, the white of Sunny’s fur seems ghostly, the black and brown markings melding together.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Jimin,” Yoongi says quietly. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting more, and nothing wrong with not wanting more. I…” He licks his lips, hesitating, waging with himself for a fraction of a second, before he pushes on, “I used to want more, once.”
There’s a throb in his chest - still not completely healed, even after so much time.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I used to work for an entertainment company. A big one, as a producer. I used to arrange music for idols. I wanted…”
Yoongi wanted everything; wanted a promotion and more work and to make a name for himself and to release his mixtapes, too, and to be a good mentor to the rookie artists and to be a good student to his own mentors and he-
He wanted stars. Awards. Worldwide recognition.
“I wanted a lot. I wanted… the top,” he says, and it tastes bitter.
He’s not sure why he’s telling Jimin this. It seems relevant to their topic, and he feels like… He feels like he can tell Jimin this. Like Jimin can know and not think any less of him. Hopefully.
“I worked a lot. I stressed a lot. I didn’t sleep and I barely ate and my friends were worried, but I insisted I was fine. I lost...” Yoongi swallows, not sure if he’d ever said this out loud. Hoseok, Namjoon and Seokjin were there. They’d witnessed it first hand, he didn’t have to explain anything to them.
“I lost something in the process of chasing my dreams. Or what I thought were my dreams.” He frowns. “Sounds fucking poetic, but… but it’s actually pretty fucking scary. I was ready to sacrifice everything for… I don’t know, for something I thought mattered to me the most.
“I asked for more and tried to meet all of the deadlines and tried to be perfect. Everything was supposed to be perfect - the music, the arrangements, every last note. I started being afraid of putting anything out there because it wasn’t good enough, it wasn’t what I thought it should be or whatever… And then I started falling behind.
“And when I finally crashed, it was so bad I couldn’t get out of bed for a while. Literally, couldn’t-”
Yoongi shakes his head; all those days, weeks, months were just one giant blur in his life. Something he barely remembers at all.
“It was really, really bad. If it weren’t for my friends, and later this cool therapist, I don’t know how I’d… Yeah. So.”
He scratches behind Sunny’s ear. It's a horrible thing, being within reach of your goals and losing your footing just before the finish line.
“So, my point is: not everyone is cut out for that something more. Maybe it seems like it’s something good, something you should be striving for - or that everyone should be striving for - but in reality, you’re far better off just finding what makes you happy - whatever it is - and sticking to it. If what you have now makes you happy, then that’s… that’s far more than most people can say.”
Jimin doesn’t say anything for a while, enough for Yoongi to wonder if this was oversharing; if Jimin got way more than he’d expected when he’d first texted Yoongi tonight.
“Are you happy now?” Jimin asks then, and his voice sounds gentle; gentle in a way that makes Yoongi close his eyes, focus on the fluff of Sunny’s fur under his fingertips.
“Yeah, I’m…” He thinks of his notebooks, of his itch to write, of considering what it would be like if he started doing his own music again. He wonders if he can handle it, if this time, this time, it'll be different, if he will be stronger... “I’m getting there,” he says, and it’s a far better answer than he’d have given a year ago.
“Hm. If we were together right now, I’d give you a huge hug,” Jimin says, smiling.
“I’d probably hate that,” Yoongi says, but he’s also smiling.
“My hugs are amazing, okay. I’m a first class hugger, international certification and all.”
“Shoulda guessed you’re the touchy type.”
“You have no idea,” Jimin laughs.
“Hey, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says, going back to trying to balance a different wrapper ball between Sunny’s ears. He uses the more familiar form of address on purpose; hopes it’s okay, hopes they’ve reached that point where they can talk to each other like this now. “You okay?”
“Yes, hyung,” Jimin accepts it easily. “You… really helped me a lot. And I liked hearing about you. Even if it wasn’t about the brightest part of your life.”
“I didn’t mind telling it,” Yoongi says honestly. “You kind of make it easy for me, so… Yeah.”
“Keep me company until I get to my building?”
“Sure.”
“Tae and Jungkookie are home alone so there might not actually be a building by the time I get back.”
“Sunny and I will be happy to accommodate you for no more than a week until you find a new place to live.”
“Wow, such generosity.”
“Only the best for an internationally certified hugger.”
Jimin’s laugh is nothing short of healing in Yoongi’s ear.
Later, after they finish the call and Yoongi decides to collect all of his empty snack bags and throw them in the trash, Jimin sends a picture. It’s of two boys sleeping together on a sofa, facing each other, their hoodies over their heads and their legs tangled. Yoongi can only make out a tuft of cherry pink hair from one of them; no other defining features.
jimin
they fell asleep watching a ghibli movie
thank god
our apt lives to see another day
me
[image attached]
before you called
my productive evening consisted of balancing wrapper balls on sunny
jimin
KITTY
she’s so cute
you should get out more
me
can’t make me
jimin
hey
hyung
thank you again
it was nice
so nice
talking to you
It feels warm, whatever it is that blooms in Yoongi’s chest. Warm and a little suffocating; like the air is too thick, too humid for a proper inhale.
me
you too jimin-ah