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It’s raining. Fat droplets hurdle themselves at the dark concrete sidewalks without rhythm. The holes in the concrete overflow continuously with the force of the rain, creating little puddles.
The sky is dark, containing shades of purple and grey that bleed into the black of the night sky. The moon, that would usually shine bright and big, hides behind thick clouds, protected from the every-so-often sharp lightning that breaks through the murk of the night.
Jimin blinks a few times before he lets out a long sigh, the door behind him slamming shut as he steps out of the library. He hates this kind of weather.
Fortunately, there’s a glass awning that shields him from the unforgiving rain that just pours, though he feels the cold night air surround him and with a plain cotton sweater and jeans on, the wind startles him.
The parking lot is nearly empty at this time of night, the few cars sporadically parked only visible due to the street lamps. Jimin can barely see that much ahead of him, a light fog shielding his vision, and limiting his sight to just the end of the short parking lot. Smothered by the haze, he can see bits of silhouettes of trees and branches beyond it. The eeriness of everything causes a chill to run down Jimin’s spine.
And then, a series of yellow light flashes a short distance away, immediately followed by the rumbling of thunder.
Jimin flinches away from the sound, taking a step backward so that he’s flushed against the door—the farthest away he can get from the rain. His shoulders slump as he realizes just how harsh the rain is. And the fact that he left his umbrella at home.
He considers making a run for the subway station, it’s not too far—only a couple of streets down. And it’s way past rush hour so the dash won’t be too lagged by pedestrian traffic. Although looking down at his attire, he’s reminded how unsuitable for the weather he is. By the time he makes it to the station, he’ll be dripping head to toe.
He curses himself for not checking the weather forecast this morning but remembers how he woke up in a daze, his alarm blaring, and his clock reading that he had about thirty minutes until his first class.
He had ended up missing the entirety of the class but was able to obtain the notes from his classmate, copying them into his own book in the campus library after he finished all his classes. (Jimin makes a mental note to bake some brownies for Taehyung as an appreciative gesture once he gets home.)
Though, now that Jimin finds himself standing at the entrance of the library, the annoyance he feels increases tenfold.
He has no way to get home without getting soaked.
Again, he could simply dash as fast as he can to the station, though Taehyung's notes sit heavily in his bag; Jimin thinks that he’s already been troubling enough. He doesn’t want to make it worse by returning his notes completely ruined—ink smeared and pages crumpled.
With reluctance, Jimin decides that staying in the library until the rain has subdued is the best option for now, at least. He reaches for the door of the library but is taken aback by the sheer force that pushes from the other side. Jimin stumbles back and nearly falls onto the wet concrete, catching himself last second. He cringes at the thought of how his favorite jeans could have gotten soaked.
“Hey, watch it!” Jimin growls, straightening his posture to face the menace that stands before him. Jimin glares. “Min Yoongi.”
Standing a mere foot away due to the short length of the awning, Jimin can clearly see the way the older’s face crinkles in distaste. Although his eyes are mostly covered by dark fringe, Yoongi’s gaze mirrors that of Jimin’s. His eyes are narrowed and his hand tightens on the handle of the door.
“Park.”
Jimin’s glare deepens once Yoongi steps closer to him and his arm moves behind to shut the door.
He hears a click and then it’s just the two of them. Yoongi is straightening his posture, shoulder broad and back straight. He looks at Jimin.
Jimin doesn’t move aside to make room for the older even if there’s so little space between them that the older male’s breath can be felt on his nose. But he refuses to lose his ground.
They’re almost like wolves from rival packs. They’ve always been this way, since two months ago when Yoongi, eyes trained on his phone, accidentally ran into the younger, causing the both of them to tumble onto the hard concrete. Without an apology, the older had gotten up and went on his way, muttering something about how people like Jimin shouldn’t be standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Since then, Jimin’s blood boils at the sight of the other, and how he’s yet to apologize for the incident.
Jimin subconsciously admits that maybe he should be a little more forgiving as it was a so-called accident, though, the older hasn’t given him any reason to be forgiven—not when they’re constantly at each other’s necks, bickering.
Always bickering and teasing.
The two had once even gotten into an immensely petty argument about whether people should bite or lick icecream. It ended in Jimin biting the older, but his friends dragged him away before he could do any more harm to Yoongi.
So, Jimin just continues to glare at the man in front of him. He hates the way Yoongi just stands there, cat-like eyes fixated on Jimin, hates the way he stands tall and proud, like he’s better than him.
And, of course, he hates the way he’s so stupidly attractive.
The way the sharpness and slightly narrowed shape of his eyes as a displeased look overtakes his face. The way his nose crunches a little when his little pink lips curl into a slight pout. Although Jimin loathes the other more than anything, he can appreciate a beautiful man when he sees one.
“You finished staring yet, prettyboy?”
Jimin blinks at the other, mouth sputtering because he definitely did not expect that. He feels his insides curl up at the term (he can’t tell if it’s in a good or bad way), even if it was meant to be mocking.
Prettyboy.
Yoongi’s mouth curls into a smirk, his whole expression morphing from distaste to arrogance. Like he has the upper hand in this situation.
Regardless, Jimin recovers shortly, or at least he tries to. He’s not going to give Yoongi the satisfaction of catching him off guard… despite how he already has. “Yes, actually,” He says matter-of-factly. “Just wondering how someone can be that ugly.”
Jimin cringes. That’s a weak comeback and he knows it, especially when he can see that the older is definitely far from ugly. Though, he tries to play it off cool, tilting his head up to look Yoongi dead in the eye. Feigning confidence is something Jimin’s always been good at.
A scoff. “As if I didn’t catch you staring at me multiple times back in the library.”
And just like that Jimin averts his eyes, doesn’t know how to respond. He had been staring but not like that!
Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest and Jimin wills himself not to focus on them because—well, his arms. Pale and smooth. Jimin’s always taken aback by how soft they look, especially when his sleeves are rolled up and they’ve got a slight sheen to them due to his sweat—
“I was not staring at you,” Jimin finally answers, disbelief written all over his face.
“Sure. Yeah, sure,” Yoongi’s voice is filled with amusement, which surprises him, to say the least. Every interaction they’ve had always involved some level of spite and bitterness, but then again, this is the first time they’ve ever been alone together. None of their friends are present to egg them on.
Jimin huffs, “Staring does not mean that you’re nice to look at, Min Yoongi. Don’t flatter yourself.”
He notes that the older doesn’t mind the lack of honorifics from the way his lips twitch back into a smirk.
“I beg to differ,” He tilts his head. “Felt your eyes burning into my skull every time I remotely laughed at anything Jin-hyung said.”
Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. He assumes that the boisterous man, whom Yoongi had sat next to, must be Jin-hyung. The two had consistently chuckled every few minutes, squeaky and high-pitched, driving Jimin up the wall as he tried to decipher Taehyung’s messy scribbles.
Yoongi hums. “I might start thinking you have a little crush on me,” Yoongi’s tone is playful as he glances at Jimin through his fringe. “Is Park Jimin jealous?”
Jimin laughs—straight-up laughs with how ridiculous the older sounds. “Please,” He gives a tight smile. “I would be ecstatic if you and Jin-ssi were together. Maybe then you could use your free time terrorizing him instead of me.”
The older dramatically gasps with his hand placed over his heart in mock hurt.
Jimin ignores him. “You two were so damn loud,” Jimin continues, eyes narrowing. “I was hoping that if I glared long enough that a piece of the ceiling would just break off and crush you, but oh well,” He shrugs. “We can’t all get what we want.”
Yoongi laughs. Jimin pretends he doesn’t like the lightness of the sound now that he’s hearing it up close. “A library is for studying, Jimin-ssi. We were just discussing what our professor had said in class.”
The shorter of the pair murmurs something unintelligible, hand rubbing the back of his neck in agitation.
“Gosh, well maybe if you guys were a little quieter, I wouldn’t have had to constantly glare at you until you noticed,” Jimin mutters, unconsciously curling his bottom lip into a slight pout. “Could have gone home earlier too if I wasn’t so distracted.”
As if on cue, thunder rumbles a short distance away (almost mocking Jimin for being the reason he can’t be on his way home just yet), and he yelps. He finds himself moving closer to Yoongi now, but he doesn’t mind as long as Yoongi gets struck by lightning first instead of him.
Next to him, Yoongi lets out an incredulous laugh, eyebrows furrowed. “What, so now it’s my fault that you’re stuck in this rain?”
Yoongi must have seen that Jimin is quite umbrella-less and can’t make it home without ending up like a drowned rat. He suddenly feels bare and very vulnerable.
Jimin eyes the umbrella that hangs swiftly around Yoongi’s wrist.
An idea sparks in his mind and he pulls on a mock seductive look with his eyes hooded, head tilted to the side, and his eyelashes fluttering. “Yes, so why don’t you be a good boy and hand over the umbrella so I can go home.”
They’re always teasing each other, so Jimin is quite shocked when he sees Yoongi’s eyes crinkle in amusement—like Jimin is actually comical.
Yoongi stifles a laugh into his palm. “What the fuck is this?” He makes a vague motion at Jimin’s posture. “Who would have known Park Jimin’s kind of cute?”
Wait what?
Mouth agape, Jimin lands a light punch on the older’s arm. “I am not cute… or pretty. As a matter of fact, I will gut you like a fish then force-feed you your insides if you don’t give up the umbrella,” He extends his arm out expectantly, his palms up.
Yoongi winces. “Kind of gruesome, don't you think? Not trying to give you any ideas here, but wouldn’t it be easier if you quickly knocked me out and then took my umbrella?”
Jimin sends him an unimpressed look, hand still outstretched.
“So I just give you the umbrella?”
“It’s the least you could do for being loud in the library.”
The other simply raises his eyebrows, “Is that so? You want me to hand it over so that you can go home and I can’t?”
Jimin tilts his head from side to side like he’s considering the ethics behind it, before he nods. He thinks that it only makes sense that Yoongi does that for him, even if it’s not really his fault that he’s going home late—actually, Yoongi isn’t to blame for any of this but Jimin’s way past thinking logically at this point. He just wants to go home and soak in his bathtub after this shitshow of a day.
“That’s hardly fair,” Yoongi’s tone has a teasing nature to it, a bit cheeky.
Jimin’s face goes dark. “Well, I don’t care. Go home with your friend. He’s still in the library, isn’t he?”
Again with the cheekiness, Yoongi responds, “I don’t even like you, remember? Why should I listen to anything you say?”
And that’s true, but Jimin’s cold and exhausted and can’t feel his fingertips right now. He thinks he’s about to lose his mind.
Jimin opens his mouth to respond but a series of thunderclaps a short distance away seizes his attention.
And exasperated and tired, Jimin lets out a sound extremely close to a whine. So squeaky, long, and loud. A whine.
Jimin’s breath hitches and a sense of embarrassment wash over him as he cringes at how oddly sexual it had sounded. It usually wouldn’t be a big deal if not for how Jimin just knows Yoongi will use this against him forever. He’ll never live this down.
He feels his ears glow red, neck grow warm, and heat overtakes the bottom half of his face. He shrinks into himself, feeling small, and wraps a hand over his mouth to prevent other humiliating sounds from coming out, but the damage is already done.
Gosh, Jimin wishes a hole could just open up and swallow him right there and then, wishes a hawk could just fly by and carry him all the way to the Han River just to dump him in it because he just—whined in front of Min Yoongi.
Jimin glances up but feels his cheeks flush darker when he finds Yoongi staring back at him. Yoongi’s eyes are wide, though he looks conflicted. In between trying his hardest to not laugh, yet his eyes are dark and trained on Jimin.
He attempts maintaining eye contact with the older, though he starts to feel the heaviness of it and flickers his eyes somewhere else—anywhere other than the piercing darkness. Though, with the distance between the two, Jimin can’t completely escape. Instead, he focuses on somewhere near Yoongi’s hands and—wow, his hands. So large and veiny.
A chuckle.
“Jimin-ssi. All pink and flustered. You really are cute, aren’t you?” Yoongi mocks, a smirk tugging at his lips again. Jimin wants so badly to make it disappear.
“Shut up,” Jimin grunts, mustering the courage to respond.
All the feigned confidence that Jimin masqueraded until now has gone down the drain. He is simply just there, with no way to go home and completely exposed to Yoongi.
A beat of silence, then, “How ‘bout we compromise?” Yoongi offers.
Not having recovered from the embarrassment, Jimin squeaks out a sound of agreement. He’d be up to do anything now, just as long as he ends up in his warm and cozy bed by the end of the night.
Yoongi hums in satisfaction.
The shorter glances up to finally lock eyes with him. He’s met with complete mischief but doesn’t bother to comment until Yoongi says something.
His lips are pressed together and the corners of his mouth twitch a bit.
Apprehension settles in Jimin’s stomach; He has a feeling that he’s not gonna like what comes out of Yoongi’s mouth.
They stand in silence for a few seconds. Jimin’s shoulders are tense.
“We can share my umbrella.” the dark-haired man finally says.
Oh.
Jimin’s posture straightens up. He fights down his blush as a wave of relief washes over him.
That’s not the worst idea. He can do that. He can share an umbrella with Min Yoongi for five minutes. They’re both headed in the same direction anyway. That’s not too bad—
“But…”
Yoongi chuckles a little. Low and husky.
Jimin feels his insides churn in nervousness as he realizes he’s at the mercy of Min Yoongi; he can make Jimin do anything he wants.
Yoongi’s always been brutal with his teasing, too. He knows that Jimin’s stubborn and would never back down from a challenge. Yet then again, this is the first time they’ve ever been alone together. Jimin subconsciously knows that all of their bickering had always been for the entertainment of their respective friends... right? Yoongi can’t possibly be that inhumane—
Yoongi grins, truly grins in amusement. “Beg for it.”
Jimin’s heart plummets to his stomach. He feels himself freeze up, hands clenched and eyes focused on the ground.
He has to be kidding.
In no way will he embarrass himself in front of Yoongi again—not when he’s already done that twice today. And especially not when he’s his archnemesis, his supposed rival, his enemy.
Plus, he can’t be serious; he can’t possibly be that cruel.
“On your knees, Jimin-ssi. I’m waiting.”
Okay. Maybe he can be that cruel.
Jimin thinks for a split second that he’d rather get soaked by the pouring rain than beg on his knees. He can still run to the train station from here. It’s not too bad. Come on, he’ll just have to terminate all friendly relations with Taehyung after returning his notes completely ruined, but that’s fine. And of course, that’s only after they find his body lying on the side of the road, struck by lightning and freezing half to death under the bitter rain. But it’s all fine.
Jimin nods to himself with his head hung low, trying to reassure himself, but a small cry is retched from his throat.
No, it’s not. It’s not fine.
He just wants to go home.
And Jimin’s always learned that desperate times call for desperate measures so, within a second, he finds himself on the ground, the concrete below him pricking at his knees. It’s mortifying how quick he does it but he’s already embarrassed himself enough today, so what’s once more?
He lifts his head to look up at Yoongi, eyes narrowing at the smug smile that plays on the other’s lips.
He can't believe he’s doing this. He’s stooping this low and publicly humiliating himself just for Yoongi to find pleasure in his pain.
He’s about to open his mouth when he hears Yoongi. He’s laughing, head thrown back, and fingers bunching at the fabric at the front of his shirt. A slit of his gums peeks out from his top row of teeth that would probably fill Jimin’s stomach with warmth if he wasn’t so irritated.
Anger bubbles up in Jimin’s throat because Min Yoongi is just standing here and laughing at him. Like his humiliation is top-notch comedy.
“You’re too funny, Jimin-ssi,” Yoongi says through breaths of air. “Get up, I was just kidding. Oh my gosh.” His sentences are filled with little inhales as he struggles to talk past his constant laughter.
And once again, he’s caught off guard.
Jimin doesn’t think his cheeks could get any hotter until they do; his resemblance to a tomato must be uncanny.
“You should have seen yourself. Looked like you were on the verge of tears.” More laughter.
Jimin slowly gets up from his position and a pout finds its way onto his lips. “Not funny. You’re stupid, and I hate you,” Jimin states, matter-of-factly, and turns away from him to hide the increasing blush that has conquered his face.
“We’ve established that multiple times already,” Yoongi says through more giggles. Jimin’s heart sings at the sound, though he would never admit that because how many times will Min Yoongi continue to embarrass him? Jimin refuses to give him the satisfaction of having such an effect on him, even if his feelings say otherwise.
“Yes and my hatred for you only grows with each passing second we’re together-” Jimin deadpans. “-so chop chop, let’s get moving.”
A chuckle. “Okay but only because I’m such a nice citizen of society, and help tiny children in need.” He gives Jimin a salute.
“I’m just two years younger, I am not a child,” He huffs. “And we are the same height, for the last time!”
Yoongi waves a hand at Jimin, muttering, “yeah, yeah, keep thinking that, Jimin-ah ” just like he does every other time they have a dispute over who is taller.
Jimin scoffs and rips the umbrella from Yoongi’s grip, opening it swiftly. Fat droplets deflect off the umbrella, almost like bullets, and Jimin yelps as a particularly big drop hits him on the nose.
Hands preoccupied with the umbrella, Jimin twitches his nose to try and get the droplet off, though Yoongi must notice since he takes it upon himself to use the sleeve of his own sweatshirt to dab at the tip of his nose.
Jimin immediately stops twitching and wills himself to look past the man, keeping his face neutral because Min Yoongi is so close to him, dabbing at his nose. Dabbing at his nose!
He’s gentle with his touch and the fabric is soft and smells good, drenched with a flowery scent from what must be Yoongi’s detergent.
Face hard, he moves his eyes a bit to glance sideways at the older, observing how delicate he looks. With the glow of the streetlamp behind him, the hairs at the top of his head gleam a bright white and the few that stick up wave a bit in the wind. Yoongi appears so—Jimin doesn’t know how to describe it but it’s along the lines of angelic.
“Wha-what are you doing?” Jimin whispers, throat suddenly dry. His heart pounds in his chest and he doesn't know why he’s feeling these things towards Yoongi. Maybe it’s the way he’s nothing like Jimin had predicted. Despite the fact that they argue upon being in the same room, he’s kind of nice to be around. With his cute laughter, the way his eyes crinkle, even his teasing, Jimin finds him sort of endearing. He feels all fuzzy, suddenly.
Yoongi laughs as he pulls away and takes the umbrella back. “With your wet nose, you look like my dog after he drinks from his water bowl.”
And just like that, the warm feeling in Jimin’s chest disappears.
Yoongi shrinks under the glare that he’s sent. “Kidding,” and steps out into the rain, swinging his umbrella above him.
Jimin pouts and runs out to stand next to Yoongi. He attempts to keep as much distance between their bodies without exposing his shoulder to the rain, which is a success with how surprisingly big the umbrella is.
Although, as they start walking, thunder and lightning continue to threaten Jimin so he finds himself shuffling closer and closer to Yoongi until there are a few centimeters between the two. Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind if his silence is anything to go by.
When they’re halfway to the train station, however, Jimin’s legs and back begin to ache, realizing that their walking pace is not in sync at all despite their similar heights.
“Can you slow down? My bag is literally dragging me down. I feel myself sinking into the concrete.” Jimin wails, hands pulling at the straps of said book bag to try and redirect the weight off his back.
Yoongi exhales, a visible puff pouring out his mouth due to the cold. “Sorry, I can’t help being gay and fast.”
Jimin feels a giggle bubble up his throat but holds it in as another shock of pain shoots up his leg from how quick he has to move to stay under the umbrella. “Well, stop being gay and fast. I can’t keep up.”
Yoongi stops and Jimin’s shoulder collides with his. His head turns to bore his eyes into Jimin’s. “Stop being gay? Are you homophobic-”
“I’m literally gay.” Jimin deadpans and shoves Yoongi in the shoulder, which he takes as a notion to start walking again—slower, this time.
“Okay okay, no need to be mean and push me.” He snorts and faces forward.
From this angle, Jimin observes the slope of Yoongi’s nose and how it resembles a button; Jimin feels the need to boop it though that’s not what one does to their enemy. His fingers twitch and he moves a little closer until their shoulders are pressed against one another. He hopes it goes unnoticed just as his last few attempts have.
Jimin’s luck isn’t the greatest today, however, so he goes pink when Yoongi glances over in question, raises his eyebrows in amusement.
Jimin looks over at him, eyes scanning over the moles on his face before they land on his eyes. “What?”
Yoongi coos.
“Shut up, I just don’t want to get my shoulder wet,” Jimin defends. Even he doesn’t believe himself.
Yoongi nods and murmurs something Jimin can’t quite catch, yet he’s a thousand percent sure he’s not fooled by the obvious bluff.
He feels the need to whine, though, tries to will it down as he feels Yoongi lightly nudge his shoulder against his.
Yoongi sends him a look, a devilish smirk curling on his lips. Always like he knows something Jimin doesn’t know, always filled with so much pride. It rubs Jimin the wrong way and before he can stop himself—
“Okay, look.” He heavily exhales. “I hate you. Get that through your thick, fat, stupid head,” He spits, trying to drive the point across.
Jimin winces at how harsh he might sound. They’ve said far crueler words to each other before but somehow Jimin feels genuine guilt swell at his stomach this time.
But he shouldn’t care because he will never admit to liking Min Yoongi. He won’t accept the fact that he doesn’t hate the older as much as he claims he does, even if it would resolve all the unspoken tension between them.
Almost as if he’s been reading his mind, Yoongi stops again and presses his lips against the shell of Jimin’s ear. He feels a hand grip firmly at his shoulder that halts his movement. “Park Jimin,” Yoongi whispers. “Why don’t you admit you like me already?”
Jimin tenses. He shivers at the unexpected warmth of the breath and feels a heat coil in his lower stomach. At this proximity, Yoongi’s voice sounds raspy and incredibly deep, so different from how he usually sounds. He feels the sudden need to have Yoongi closer, though—flushed against him, maybe.
He unconsciously bites down on his lip to drown out any lewd sounds that might arise; his heart pounds rapidly against his chest.
Min Yoongi is so close to him. So close.
He dares to peek over at Yoongi and is surprised to find his gaze already fixed on him—fixed on his lips.
Jimin flushes under the intense gaze. He feels his toes curl a bit because Yoongi looks so focused, eyes flickering subtly from his teeth to their press against his bottom lip.
Jimin doesn’t know what takes over him but he finds himself peaking his tongue out, running it slowly along his bottom lip, glossiness lying in its wake. He observes how Yoongi’s eyes follow his tongue.
Then they snap upward to meet his, half-lidded and so dark.
Jimin’s well aware that the two of them are standing in the middle of the sidewalk in the midst of a thunderstorm but he can’t take it upon himself to care because he just wants.
He’s not sure who makes the first move but soon, there’s barely space between the two of them. Foreheads pressed together with their noses softly brushing, Jimin can’t find it within himself to pull his eyes away from Yoongi’s pretty pink lips. Their breaths are mingled and Jimin smells mintiness as Yoongi simply sighs.
From this distance, Jimin can clearly see the moles that decorate his face, a particularly cute one that rests on his nose, urging Jimin to peck it.
He almost does until a large hand comes to rest on the back of his head, compelling him to lock eyes with Yoongi again. Fingers press faintly against his skin, a similar level of delicacy as with his nose, a thumb slowly stroking at the short hairs. Yoongi’s looking at him so softly, a small smile playing on his lips and Jimin—he realizes how gentle everything is.
With tender force, Yoongi coaxes his head sideways, tilting it so that their lips will slot together easier.
They’re so close now, lips barely brushing and Jimin smiles in relief as his eyes flutter shut.
He’s going to kiss Min Yoongi, his enemy, his rival, the antagonist. But he doesn’t care anymore.
He feels a gentle pressure on his lips and—
Thunder claps.
Jimin squeaks out, jumping back and away from Yoongi with his heart basically leaping out of his chest from the deafening sound.
Yoongi jumps too, though, through the haste of things, the handle of the umbrella smacks Jimin square on the forehead, eliciting a groan.
That seems to snap Jimin out of his daze because he suddenly feels hot embarrassment fill his insides. Both his hands reach to simultaneously rub at the back of his neck, feeling the burning sensation radiate off.
He keeps his eyes cast downwards, refusing to look over at Yoongi. His hand moves to rub awkwardly at the red bump that is doomed to swell into a large bruise later on.
Yoongi seems to notice the harsh red patch on Jimin’s head as he profusely apologizes, making to cover the both of them with the umbrella again.
Jimin nods without making eye contact and starts walking again. He doesn’t bother to check if Yoongi is following or not. He’s too flustered to risk making eye contact with him. He just hopes Yoongi takes the hint and continues walking with him. Luckily he trudges close to Jimin, umbrella between them.
For the rest of the time, they stay quiet. Only the constant pittering of the raindrops reflecting off the umbrella, and the occasional rumbling thunder where Jimin tries very hard not to scream from fear.
Thankfully, the pair makes it to the train station in record’s time. With the awkward silence after their almost-kiss, Jimin had taken the lead the rest of the way, ignoring the burning sensation that ran up his leg from walking way too fast. He could not wait to go home and soak in some warm soapy water.
As they make it down the stairs and into the warm station, Yoongi finally breaks the silence.
“That’ll be twenty dollars, Park Jimin, for being your protector against the rain,” Yoongi sends him a smile. “Though, if you don’t have that, I take payments in any form—preferably kisses.”
Jimin appreciates the fact that Yoongi’s trying to break the unbearable tension. He lets out a short laugh. “You wanna kiss me so bad,” He muses. “Don’t you?”
Yoongi’s smirk doesn’t seem to ever fall off his face. “And what if I do?”
Jimin gives him a smug smile before he turns his back towards him, “Beg for it.”
And just like that, it’s gone.