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It’s seven in the evening, and Jimin is restless.
He’s invited Yoongi to his place for the evening and he knows that tonight’s the night; he can feel it in his bones. He’s tired of waiting, exhausted of being scared.
He’s known him for years, a connection through friends; he spends more time thinking about it than closing the café.
He remembers the first meeting, the silent sulk he’d given him, what was, he learned after, shyness. He recalls the weeks of monosyllabic answers to his small talk, the way he’d taken time to warm up to him, someone you had to earn the trust of.
It had been an accident, the way they had initially bonded, and maybe it had been the beginning of Jimin’s feelings for him, The Party.
They were having a costume party at Seokjin’s, an old friend of Jimin’s, and he’d had to change into his vampire count outfit when Yoongi had came in the room, clueless. Jimin had been alone, safe, shirtless, and Yoongi had opened the door directly on himself, exposing his chest, the remnants of his scars, the proof he’d been different one day, before, long ago. A flush had crept up Jimin’s face, not out of shyness but out of dread. He barely knew him.
And then, Yoongi had talked.
“Sorry. Just came in to drop my coat.”
He put it on the bed, eyes trained on it, ears red, dressed up as an elfish something, pointy ears, laced up shirt, velvet pants.
Jimin hadn’t answered, hadn't known what to say. But Yoongi hadn’t said anything more, leaving the room without another word to him, just, for the first time, a gentle smile.
Jimin had been afraid of three things in his life: not being good enough, people knowing about his transition, and being honest with his feelings. It hit right where he didn’t like it.
He cleans the tables, puts the chairs on them and swipes the counter one last time before closing the shop. That day had been frightful, he remembers. If Yoongi having a sneak peak into one of his secrets had been bad enough, Jimin was about to brave one of the other things he hated to be confronted with: confessing feelings.
The trip home was about to be a long one.
He thinks about that night again.
Namjoon had been a new addition to their group of friends, brought in by Jungkook who’d harbored the biggest crush on him if you were to listen to him. The older man had brought Yoongi with him one night and he'd never really left their friend group, finding a home in their friendship. So, there was Yoongi, two months into knowing them, still shy and quick to retort, having witnessed Jimin's most precious secret.
Just after Yoongi had closed the door, he'd opened it up again and had peeked inside, telling Jimin "You look like you just swallowed up a swarm of bees. If it because of me I—. You don't have to worry about it."
Jimin had snarled, a short and tired breath of air that had underlined his fear.
"Listen. Do you wanna know one of my secrets?" He'd said, walking back in the room and closing the door behind him.
Jimin had looked up from the ground.
"I'm bisexual. Struggled with that a lot. There. You have one of my secrets as well. Take care of it. It's the best I can give you, baring myself to you to make you feel safe. I hope it's enough."
Jimin had blinked, features softening.
"It is. Thank you."
He'd left him at that, and Jimin's panic had subdued. That's where their mutual trust had began.
He walks up to his flat and unlocks his door, entering and turning on the lights. He has an half-an-hour to cook dinner.
Putting some music on, he starts dancing, getting ustensiles and food out, chopping onions, stirring them as he cuts some beef and peppers.
There is something about Yoongi that leaves Jimin on edge, the way he speaks, lean fingers moving, soothing; the smile he gives, gummies showing when he’s particularly fond or happy; the low rasp in his voice in the morning when he comes at the shop's opening, eyes half-closed, the way it makes Jimin want to kiss his eyelids hello.
He remembers cold afternoons spent at the café looking at Yoongi dozing off in a corner, coffee gone cold, remembers nights out with Yoongi’s fingers tucked around the crook of his elbow to signal him something, the baring of his neck when he’s lost in thoughts and uncaring of whether someone’s looking or not.
He longs, wonders how it would feel to let fingers roam down his neck, tickle his collarbone before kissing it. Maybe even kiss him, if he’d feel his chapped licks, or if he’d even care. He just wants to taste him, get to know the feeling of his body pressed against his.
Anyway. He adds the beef and peppers to the onions and starts stirring, puts noodles in boiling water and knows Yoongi is minutes away from being here.
When the doorbell rings, Jimin doesn’t bother pushing his thoughts away. Tonight’s the night he comes clean, starts being honest with himself and the man he’s been in love with for a year and half.
He opens the door in a soft sweep, still dancing, and Yoongi’s nose is red from the cold, hands tucked in his coat. He looks soft and freezing, and Jimin wants to kiss his nose.
There’d been this one time, where they’d been walking home together after a party, where Jimin had told him he’d felt alone and Yoongi had taken his hand. It had been gentle, tender, and silent. Jimin had felt something, maybe more tangible than that time at the first party, a tug in his chest. He’d wanted to press closer, be more intimate, and he’d known he was in trouble.
Another time. Jimin had fallen asleep in Yoongi’s bed, clothed and tired, and he’d felt Yoongi tug the covers over him, brush his cheek on the way with the back of his hand. His heart had hammered in his chest.
And there’d been that morning where Jimin had kissed him hello on the cheek, particularly joyful, and Yoongi had blushed from ears to cheeks, eyes wide, and maybe, just maybe , Jimin has a chance.
So here stands Yoongi, cold and tired from his workday, and Jimin takes his coat off, brushes his fingers just lightly against his back, an accident . He hangs it in a corner and–
“Hi, how have you been hyung?”
“Stuck at the office all week, I just want to sleep. Can we watch a movie tonight?”
Jimin smiles at him.
“Figured you’d be exhausted. Downloaded Inception.”
“You’re perfect.” Yoongi tells him, and Jimin grins, trying not to flush, before getting away to finish cooking.
The dinner’s tranquil, and Jimin starts fidgeting, wonders how he should tell him.
Hey hyung, just a head’s up, I’ve been in love with you for almost as long as we’ve known each other. Hope we’re good.
Or
Please don’t hate me but I’ve wanted to kiss you for a really long time.
Or, really, just a long suffered groan might be enough to communicate the feeling. He doesn’t know, pays half-a-mind to what Yoongi’s saying, until they’re on the couch and he’s asking him if he’s okay.
Fuck.
“Yeah, there’s just been a lot on my mind.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
A beat.
“Actually? Yes.”
Yoongi moves from his spot on the couch to get closer, a hand on his knee, barely touching, just a presence.
Their calves are grazing, sitting cross-legged, and Jimin scoots closer, flushing their legs together, trying to give himself some contenance, already crumbling inside. He can hear his heart in his ears, has trouble breathing.
“I don't know how to tell you this." He starts, breathes in, breathes out.
He thinks about the time where he'd almost kissed him. They'd been watching a movie and he'd turned his head to see him staring at him, gaze focused, silent. It had felt like a moment. He'd leant in, but had pretended sweeping a bread crumb off of his sweater in the end. He'd chickened out. Tonight wouldn't be like that.
"We've grown close, you and me, over time." He says, and Yoongi has gone still.
"I trust you."
"I trust you too." He answers without hesitation.
"I—. I mean, you are important to me and I value our friendship first and foremost and—" He has trouble going on, his hands are shaking and sweaty. "I have feelings for you."
He looks at the hair on his ankles, doesn't want to look up. Yoongi doesn't answer. They're both silent.
"What I feel for you, it's more than friendship." He continues, and starts playing with the hem of his jeans. "It's been like that for a while."
"You're an idiot." Yoongi finally says, and tucks a finger under his chin, lifting his head up. He looks almost sad. "You should've told me sooner."
His brushes his thumb along his jaw, moves his fingers until they're touching his lips, caressing.
"It would've saved us some time." His hands wraps around his cheek and he leans in. Jimin meets him halfway. They're a hairbreadth away. They still. Jimin’s mind has gone a bit foggy, unsure of what to say next.
“I wondered, you know, but you keep a lot to yourself.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Yoongi gives him a small smile, and Jimin feels his breath on his cheek. “Write you a love song and then serenade you?”
Jimin smiles, cheeky.
“Would’ve loved that.”
“I hate you.” He tells him, with no heat in his words, gums showing.
“I hate you too.” Jimin licks his lips and leans in.
Yoongi’s lips are chapped from cold and lack of lip balm use, pouty and soft at the same time, and Jimin loves it. He presses, gently, timidly, hands rising around his shoulders, touching the fabric of his sweater. Yoongi kisses back as quietly, peacefully, sighing into his mouth, and his hands wrap around his cheeks, presses him closer until Jimin has to move and climb around his legs.
“I’m cold.” Yoongi states, deadpanned, with a hint of whine in his voice, and Jimin can only comply, takes him in his arms and kisses him again, with more strength this time, mapping every inch of his mouth, kissing, licking, softly biting into it. Yoongi’s hands moves from his cheeks to his nape, down to his shoulders, his arms, and finally his hands, taking them into his. He brings one of Jimin’s hands towards him and breaks the kiss to press his lips against them.
“I love your hands. Thought I should tell you, if I have to be more expressive.”
And something soars in Jimin’s chest. He hates his hands, they’re witnesses of his past, proof of a lack of manliness when he’s feeling dysphoric: not wide and long enough, cute and not impressive at all. He feels like they betray him, and yet, with Yoongi kissing his knuckles, the inside of his palms, he feels better, feels calm and soothed.
“I love your smile.” He tells him in return, and Yoongi’s gums show again. Jimin kisses his cheek. Yoongi’s looking bashful, red at the ears, and Jimin loves this sight, wants to see it over and over again.
“I’m thinking.’ Jimin suddenly says, breaking the mood, but keeping one of Yoongi’s hands in his. “If you’ve been pining, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
Yoongi huffs, looking away.
“Shut up.”
“Were you shy?” Jimin asks again and presses closer, knees on either side of Yoongi, pining him into the sofa. He’s smirking, circling his thumb around Yoongi’s palm.
“Maybe. None of your business.”
“Kind of, you know.”
“Yeah. Yeah I was. Now, can we get back to kissing? I’ve waited long enough.”
But Jimin tucks his head to the side, nervousness gone in the face of the realization that their feelings are mutual. There’s no harm in fooling around a little.
“I don’t know, now I’m curious about it.”
Yoongi groans, letting his head fall on the couch’s arm.
“Come onnn.” He whines, and Jimin loves it.
“A kiss per revelation.”
And Yoongi doesn’t even put up a fight.
“Fine, but really because you’re insufferable. I almost kissed you on New Year’ Eve a year ago, but you were drunk and I was sad, and you looked too handsome for me.”
“Did I?”
“You had this formidable suit, and I wanted to ravish you, but I was too intimidated between you and the amount of feelings I had.”
Jimin kisses him, slips his tongue in his mouth, and they’re dancing, tentative, trying to get what makes the other sigh. They kiss for a few minutes before Jimin leans back.
“Okay. What else?”
“That night, we talked on the balcony, and I couldn’t stop staring at the glint in your eyes, was a few seconds ago from kissing you, only Namjoon interrupted.”
“Oh god.”
“Yeah.”
Yoongi lunges forward to kiss him and braces a hand behind his head, pressing him closer, fingers tangling in his hair strands.
“I made latte art with your name on it to train.” Jimin confesses, and Yoongi snorts.
“I want one. I composed poems for you.”
“I wanna read them. I feigned sleeping multiple times at your place so you’d tuck me in bed.”
“Figured.”
“What?”
“I was too endeared and felt lucky enough to comply.”
“Unbelievable.”
Their smiles are wide, and their eyes crinkled.
“Fuck, I’m in love with you, aren’t I?” Jimin says.
“Seems like we both are in trouble.” Yoongi replies.
“When did you know?”
“First sight. You had morning hair, eyes puffy with sleep, and you smiled so wide at me I thought my heart was going to burst out of my ribcage.”
“But your face was so closed off!”
“A man’s gotta keep his dignity. Namjoon saw right through me, though.”
“You’re basically attached by the hip.”
“Says the one who’s sharing his brain cells with Taehyung.”
Jimin looks at him with defiance.
“Yeah. Says I.”
“Anyway, what about you?”
And Jimin stops talking, feels smaller, more vulnerable.
“That time, when you caught me at the party.”
“I was trying not to be a jerk.”
“You bared yourself to make me feel better.”
“Maybe.”
“Made me feel human.”
“You are.” Yoongi’s hand is on his cheek again, soft.
"It's hard to feel that way sometimes."
“You are a brilliant man.”
And Jimin feels like crying.
“You’re brave and unbelievably tender, so strong. You inspire me.”
He has to bite his lip for it not to tremble, eyes filling up with tears.
“You made me fall in love with you by being yourself and I’m grateful.”
He licks his lips and Yoongi embraces him, wraps his arms around his middle and presses him close.
“I’m in love with you Jimin-ah.”
“Me too. I’m so in love, it scares me.”
"Shhh." Yoongi tells him, securely wrapping him against his body, and Jimin kisses his nape, down to his collarbones, and, really, he can't stop, it helps him from crying.
When he finally looks up, Yoongi's head is thrown back on the couch's arm, eyes closed, small smile tugging at his lips and Jimin flushes his body against him, kissing his lips again.
"You're so pretty." He tells him and Yoongi huffs.
"So are you. So handsome." He replies in between kisses. He extends his legs and they're pressed against one another. Jimin's exhilarated. He thread his fingers in Yoongi's hair, and his closed eyes flutter, smile growing wider.
"Do you—" Jimin starts and then stutters, hesitates. Yoongi opens an eye.
"Hmm?"
"Do you wanna stay the night?"
Yoongi smirks at that.
"Only if you let me be the little spoon."