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“You okay?”
Jimin blinks, turning to look at Yoongi as he plops down on the stool beside him. There’s a glass of mostly ice in the curl of his right hand, dim lighting of the bar casting shadows over his face.
“I’m good,” Jimin answers, an easy lie. He takes a sip of his own drink and very decidedly does not look back, does not stare again at where Taehyung and Namjoon are pressed against each other, Taehyung’s arms around Namjoon’s waist and nose pressed to the crook of Namjoon’s neck, a few steps away. “I’m surprised you came out tonight, hyung. You’ve been so busy lately.”
Yoongi shrugs, shoulders rising and falling, thick fabric of his sweatshirt swallowing his frame. “Hoseok kind of told me to.”
Jimin snorts. Hoseok is the only one who can get away with that. Seokjin, occasionally, but he typically avoids telling Yoongi to do anything. “Were you holed up at the studio for too long?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, and he shakes his glass, rattling the ice before he brings it to his lips and gets some of the whiskey dregs. “But it’s been pretty good. I got a lot done, at least.”
Jimin squints at him. “And you’re eating three meals a day and not trying to live on coffee alone?”
Yoongi laughs. “Yeah. Most of the time. Work is busy, but it’s not life-consuming.
“Good,” Jimin says decisively. “What about Hoseok-hyung?”
“Doing a lot, too. He would’ve come out tonight, but he has an early morning recording with some new artists.”
Jimin nods. Taehyung’s low laugh bubbles in the background, and his fingers tighten around his glass as he looks down at the chipped wooden surface of the bar.
“Jimin-ah?”
Jimin startles, glancing up at Yoongi before his eyes flick down again. “Sorry, I’m really tired tonight. I might head out early.”
So he can go home, alone, instead of to Taehyung’s place.
“I always sleep better when you’re here,” Taehyung murmurs, voice raspy, cheek squished against the pillow, pushing his lips out.
Jimin reaches out and gently tucks back the waves of hair falling over the side of Taehyung’s face. “I’m a very soothing presence,” Jimin informs him.
Taehyung snorts at that, even if it’s a sleepy thing, barely cracked open eyes and slow breaths. “Not soothing. Just. Good.”
“Good and soothing.”
“Sometimes soothing.”
They both laugh, and Taehyung nestles closer. Jimin makes himself bigger, stretching so he can wrap his arms around Taehyung, pull him to his chest and press a kiss to the top of his head.
Yoongi hums quietly, finishing off the last of his whiskey before wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “You want to share a taxi and crash on Hoseok and I’s couch?”
“It’s fine. If hyung’s already sleeping-”
“He sleeps like a rock. And he misses you. We can have breakfast together in the morning.”
Jimin turns his glass around in his hands. The offer is- it sounds like a real one, not pity thrown his way like a bone to a dog. He should’ve known, with Yoongi.
“If you don’t want to, that’s fine,” Yoongi says, no judgment in his voice. “But the offer is there.”
Seokjin’s laughter fills the air, clear and bright, and beneath it is Jeongguk’s, Taehyung’s, Namjoon’s. The emptiness in Jimin’s stomach feels like it pushes deeper.
“Okay,” Jimin says. “Yeah, hyung. I’d love to take your couch for the night and do breakfast tomorrow.”
Yoongi touches his arm gently, a soft squeeze above his wrist. “Cool. Want to say goodbye and then we’ll head out?”
“Sure,” Jimin says.
He’s almost always the last to leave on occasions when they all meet up. It’s been harder to stay, though. It’s always been Yoongi-and-Hoseok, but then it became Seokjin-and-Jeongguk and now, Taehyung-and-Namjoon.
Jimin drains the last of his beer and slips off the stool, boots hitting the dirty floor.
The floorboards creak beneath their feet, though it’s barely audible over the music. It sounds like one of the playlists Namjoon might’ve made for the owner over the years they’ve been coming here.
“Hey,” Yoongi says. “It was good to see you guys.”
Taehyung still has his arms around Namjoon’s waist, chin hooked on his shoulder. They look warm. Comfortable.
“You’re heading out, hyung?” Jeongguk asks. He’s got a dart in his hand, spinning it between his fingers. He wins every time against anyone here. Jimin thinks it’s really an act of love that Seokjin still plays with him, knowing he’ll lose regardless.
“Yeah,” Yoongi says. “I think Jimin’s coming with me.”
Jimin can feel all of them glance at him, and he quickly smiles, tilting his head to the side. “I’ll make sure to tell Hoseok we all missed him tonight.”
Taehyung untangles himself from Namjoon, launching himself forward for a hug. “See you soon?” he asks, arms looped over Jimin’s shoulders.
Jimin’s throat tightens, again, stupid. “Yeah,” he says, and when he steps back, he sees something flash in Taehyung’s eyes. “Of course,” Jimin adds then, and watches as Taehyung’s face smooths out.
Taehyung’s always been easy to read. At least for Jimin.
“Yoongi-yah, you better not be turning Jimin into an old man like you,” Seokjin says, clicking his tongue.
Yoongi snorts. “We’ll have gray hair and reading glasses by next week.”
The song switches, one that Jimin recognizes as definitely from one of Namjoon’s playlist. Taehyung seems to realize the same thing, and he turns back to face Namjoon with a grin.
“Ready?” Jimin asks Yoongi, who nods.
Seokjin and Jeongguk go back to their dart game as Jimin and Yoongi turn away, Taehyung looping his arms around Namjoon again.
“Ready?” Taehyung asks, clinging onto Jimin’s arm.
“It’s going to be cold,” Jimin complains, and he pushes into Taehyung’s side, burrowing into his coat. “And we’re going to have to wait in line for a taxi.”
“We’ll keep you warm, hyung,” Jeongguk says. His words slur a little bit from the alcohol, pink cheeks and slow blinking eyes. He steps closer until Jimin is sandwiched between them both.
Jimin laughs, wiggling to get more comfortable. It’s more likely that Jeongguk will make them all trip, but he’s not about to say that when two of his favorite people are hugging him.
“They’re so cute,” Hoseok says, grinning at them as he sits on the edge of the pool table.
“Like penguins,” Seokjin agrees. He has his phone out, snapping pictures that will undoubtedly be sent to the group chat in the morning and potentially as blackmail material, depending on how ridiculous they all look.
“Do you guys want me to try to get a Kakao taxi?” Namjoon asks, leaning on his pool cue. The wood bends a little dangerously, and Yoongi gently tugs it away from him, lips curled with amusement.
Jimin shakes his head. “They’re probably all backed up right now, hyung.”
Taehyung hums close to Jimin’s ear. “We can stay, if you want? Or I can go alone?”
“Nah, I’m with you,” Jimin says. “I need to study tomorrow, too.”
“Studying,” Jeongguk repeats. “Fuck. Yeah. Bye, hyungs,” he calls, still sweet and warm and definitely a little drunk. “We have to study tomorrow.” He then starts toward the door walking backward, keeping Jimin and Taehyung wrapped up in his arms.
Jimin and Taehyung both giggle, stumbling to keep up.
“Be safe,” Hoseok says.
And Jimin, despite the fact that he’s nearly tripped twice in the last thirty seconds, feels very, very safe in Taehyung and Jeongguk’s arms.
The knot in Jimin’s throat gets a little bit bigger.
It’s stupid and selfish and Jimin tries to swallow it away.
They catch one of the last subways, Yoongi sleepy-eyed and Jimin with his hands shoved in the pockets of his light jacket.
Their car is crowded, people shuffling on and off at the end of Friday night. There’s a group of high school students still in uniform clustered around the phone one of the boys holds out for the others to see. Beside them is a couple holding hands, the shorter of the two with her head nestled on the others’ shoulder, sharing a pair of pink earbuds.
Jimin stares at them for a moment too long, the emptiness inside him stretching, pulling him further apart.
Yoongi doesn’t try to talk, just sways slightly as the subway moves along the track, then tugs on the sleeve of Jimin’s jacket when it’s their stop.
“Thanks for inviting me to sleep at your place,” Jimin says on the walk from the station, cool night air and light-polluted sky.
“Mm,” Yoongi says. He’s walking slowly, chin nestled into his sweatshirt. “You’re always welcome, Jimin-ah.”
Jimin lets out a quiet breath. It used to be Jimin over at Taehyung’s apartment every weekend, letting himself in with Taehyung’s door code. Or Taehyung bringing takeout to Jimin’s place as a surprise on a weeknight.
It always changes a little bit like this when Taehyung dates someone. But this is Namjoon, and with Namjoon, Taehyung is-
Taehyung is in love .
Jimin follows Yoongi inside the apartment, stepping out of his boots and into the gray pair of guest slippers.
“These are cute,” Jimin says, kicking off his sneakers and swinging off his over-the-shoulder bag as he closes the door behind him. Blue slippers decorated with little yellow ducks sit on the tile beside him.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. They’re for you,” Taehyung answers. He’s got a smudge of paint on his cheek, still wearing his pajamas. “I saw them at Daiso yesterday and thought you should have your own pair here.”
Jimin feels his eyes crinkle with the force of his smile. “I love them. Thank you.”
The hall light outside Yoongi and Hoseok’s bedroom is still on, but the door is closed. Hoseok must have left it for Yoongi.
“Want any water?” Yoongi asks.
“I only drank two beers,” Jimin answers, a hint skeptic as he peels off his jacket in the warmth of the living room.
Yoongi stares at him.
It surprises a laugh out of Jimin, and he nods. “Okay. Sure, hyung, I’d love a glass.”
Yoongi’s lips curl up the slightest bit in the corners, and he retreats to the kitchen, flicking another light on.
“Hoseok’s always getting on to me about drinking more water,” Yoongi says as he pulls two mugs out from a cabinet.
“Probably because you used to live off of coffee alone,” Jimin points out.
Yoongi snorts. “Yeah, fair.” He grabs a pitcher from the fridge and fills the mugs before sliding the one with a dinosaur on it across the counter.
“Taehyung gave this to you, didn’t he?” Jimin asks, grinning as he looks at it.
“Yeah, for my birthday last year,” Yoongi answers. “It was stuffed with that red beanie.”
“Creative gift wrapping,” Jimin says with a laugh, only to have his throat hurt again. He raises the mug to his lips and takes a sip.
“It’s called creative gift wrapping, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung declares.
Jimin is twenty today, and all he can do is laugh as he shakes another set of earrings out of a new pair of socks. “I love it. I love you . Thank you, Tae.”
Taehyung beams back at him, bright and warm. “Happy birthday. Here’s to many more years of friendship to come,” he says, then tosses another pair of socks far too heavy for just fabric at Jimin.
“You don’t have to tell me about it,” Yoongi says, and Jimin blinks up from the mug, “but if you want to talk about whatever’s going on in your head, you can.”
Jimin pulls the mug closer to his chest. The kitchen light is bright, white instead of yellow- almost clinical. He shifts his weight. “It’s not that-” Jimin starts and stops. “I think it’s a really selfish thing to be upset about.”
Yoongi hums softly.
“And maybe it’s not just one thing,” Jimin says in the quiet of the room. “Maybe it’s a lot more than that.” He fiddles with the handle of his mug.
“You want to move to the couch?” Yoongi asks.
Jimin nods, and Yoongi turns off the kitchen light behind them as they step back into the living room, dark save for the hall on the other side.
Yoongi grabs a blanket folded over the back of the armchair, and they both settle on the sofa, mugs of water on the table in front of them.
There’s something about the way Yoongi lets the silence settle over them, the way he doesn’t push, that makes the tumble of things in Jimin’s head nearly force themselves out of his mouth.
I miss Taehyung , he nearly says.
It’s selfish that I can’t just be happy for friends who fall in love with each other.
I thought last night about going to a club and finding someone who wanted to go home with me just so I wouldn’t have to fall asleep alone again.
The words that finally make it out are, “I’m really lonely, hyung.”
He feels about three times too small, swallowed up the void in his stomach- in his chest. He draws his knees up with the admission, wrapping his arms around his legs.
Yoongi just says, “Ah.”
“It’s stupid. I see people at the dance studio every day. Taehyung still comes over sometimes. I go out with you all for drinks at least twice a month. I have ten unanswered messages from my mom and friends back in Busan because I don’t know what to say.” Jimin plucks at a stray loose string on the corner of the blanket, wrapping it around his pointer. “It’s all different than being the first person someone messages when they see a dog on the way to work and different than knowing you can go over to someone’s apartment any time because they want you there, and different than being able to fall asleep next to them even if you wake up with an elbow in your ribs because sometimes you just need to be able have someone there at night to keep you from falling too deep into your own head.”
Yoongi shifts a little on the couch. “I don’t think that’s stupid.”
“It is, though.” Jimin’s breath shudders when he exhales. “Because I’m angry about it. Even though it’s… it’s natural for people, you know? It’s natural for people to fall in love and spend less time with their friends and for me not to have the same place in their life anymore.”
“It’s natural for some people,” Yoongi says immediately, his brow furrowed. “It’s just as natural not to do that at all.”
“I know, hyung. I know.” Jimin rubs his hand across his face only to realize it’s shaking. He wraps it back around his legs again. “It’s not that I want to change who I am.”
Yoongi hums. “But it’s still hard?”
“Yeah,” Jimin says quietly. Then, after a moment, “Taehyung tries. And I don’t want to put pressure on him to spend more time with me. He keeps inviting me to do things with both him and Namjoon, but it feels like a pity thing.”
“Jimin,” Yoongi says, leaning forward. “Taehyung loves you.”
Jimin twists too hard, and the string snaps off, wrapped tightly around his finger and turning it red. He swallows, letting go of the blanket. “But he’s doing it because he feels guilty. He knows that it’s been hard for me not to see him so much.”
“Have you been guilt-tripping him? Sending passive-aggressive messages?”
“No!” Jimin says, looking up immediately. “No, I don’t. I wouldn’t. I- I’ve learned not to, over the years.”
“Then it’s not on you,” Yoongi says with a shrug. “It’s hard to find balance sometimes. It took Hoseok and I a little while, but we fell into something that works for us. Taehyung just might need time to do that. And part of that might be some open communication with him. Not to make him feel bad, but just how you both can feel best.”
Jimin pulls the string off from where it’s still tightly wound around his finger. “It’ll still be different.”
Yoongi makes a noise of agreement. He picks his mug up from the coffee table and takes a slow drink before setting it back down again.
“I sometimes think about going out and finding someone to hook up with,” Jimin says. He tucks his chin on the top of his knees, like curling up can stop the emptiness from spreading. “I used to do it a lot, even though it was… bad for me. Because I didn’t want to be alone. But I always hated it. And in the morning, there would be someone in bed with me, but I wished they weren’t. And I was even lonelier than before.”
Yoongi’s hand appears in Jimin’s peripheral, long fingers and upturned palm.
Jimin laughs, the sound surprisingly wet, and takes it. “I don’t know what to do, hyung. I don’t want someone the way you and Hoseok want each other. Or Seokjin and Jeongguk or Taehyung and Namjoon. But I want to get pictures of the dogs he sees first and fall asleep with my best friend and not-” his eyes are burning, “-not-”
Yoongi squeezes his hand as he chokes on his own words, curling over his knees. Yoongi’s fingers brush over the back of his hand gently, rubs circles over the side of his thumb with his own.
“-not be so lonely anymore,” Jimin manages with a breath that trips in his lungs, comes out hiccuped and small.
Yoongi shifts on the sofa until his side is pressed against Jimin’s folded up legs, shoulder to Jimin’s knee, never letting go of his hand. It’s quiet for a few moments, punctuated by Jimin sniffing.
“Sometimes,” Yoongi says quietly, breaking the relative silence, “I think that loneliness is something that never really goes away.”
Jimin raises his chin, rubs his free hand beneath his nose. “That’s a very shit take, hyung.”
Yoongi blinks in surprise before huffing out a laugh. “Yeah, maybe. I’ve just thought about it a lot.”
Jimin sniffs again before he arranges himself so his arm is resting against Yoongi’s, knees still tucked to his chest but with the warmth of Yoongi’s side meeting his own. “Are you lonely too, hyung?”
“Sometimes,” Yoongi admits.
Jimin frowns, and he raises his shoulder for a moment to rub his cheek, catching an escaped tear. His throat aches. “But you and Hoseok seem like you’re so good together.”
“We are,” Yoongi says, and he tilts his head to the side, brow furrowing slightly. “But it’s like… we’re all a little bit like islands.”
“You sound like Namjoon.”
Yoongi snorts, retracting his hand to elbow Jimin in the side, and Jimin surprises himself with a small laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. No metaphors. I can be sitting next to Hoseok,” Yoongi says, and Jimin nods. Yoongi licks his lips before he continues, “and he can be sitting next to me, but we’ll both still feel a little lonely. It’s not that we don’t love each other enough, but it’s just- a family thing for me, or his knee acting up again. We can be there for each other, but it still feels lonely.”
“You know you can talk to me,” Taehyung says, voice a little bit fuzzy through the call.
“I know,” Jimin answers. He’s the last one in the studio again, and his ankle throbs and he’s soaked in sweat but he still can’t get the choreography done right and he wants to sink into the floor. His reflection stares back at him. “Sorry, Tae. I just- I don’t think I can right now.”
“Alright,” Taehyung says quietly. “Don’t forget to eat when you get home, okay?”
“Okay,” Jimin says, and he bites his lip to keep from crying. “Love you, Tae.”
“Love you, too.”
Jimin ends the call and slides his phone across the room, polished wooden floors carrying it easily to the mirrors. Then he stands, wincing and still far too close to tears, the silence of the room deafening.
“You can be lonely around other people,” Jimin agrees.
“And not feel lonely when you’re alone,” Yoongi nods. “It’s just what’s going on inside your own head.”
“Or in the pit of your stomach.”
Yoongi hums softly. They sit in silence again for a few breaths before Yoongi says, “I think that’s the thing about loneliness.”
“Hm?”
“It passes.”
“Hi.”
Jimin pauses, looking up from his desk in the lecture hall. At first he’s not sure he’s being addressed, but he realizes the boy who took the seat right next to him is staring directly into his eyes with an intensity that would be intimidating if it weren’t for a rectangular smile gracing his lips.
“Hello,” Jimin answers. He doesn’t think he’s talked to anyone in a week. His dorm is full of other first year university students who all somehow seem to know each other from an orientation Jimin hadn’t been able to tend. He hasn’t heard Busan satoori either, all accents matched to Seoul.
This boy, though, sounds like he’s from close to home. From Daegu, probably.
“I’m Kim Taehyung.” The warmth of his voice is almost overwhelming.
“Park Jimin.”
Taehyung’s smile widens. “The syllabus says we need partners for the first project. Do you want to be mine?”
“Yeah,” Jimin says, and for the first time in a week, feels a little less alone.
Jimin feels Yoongi’s fingers weave through his again. “Sometimes it’s fine for a while. And then it’s- it’s not.”
“It comes in waves.”
Jimin nods slowly, looking down at his hand in Yoongi’s. “Yeah. I guess it does.”
“And sometimes it’s harder than others. Sometimes it feels like you’re drowning in it. But then you come up for air.”
“Your hyung lets you spend the night at his and his boyfriend’s apartment and holds your hand,” Jimin says quietly.
Yoongi squeezes his hand. “And your best friend gets a boyfriend, sure, but he still loves you just as much as before and talks about you every opportunity he gets because he thinks the sun shines out of your ass-”
Jimin laughs. “He doesn’t.”
“He does,” Yoongi answers, and he’s got a bit of a lopsided grin on his face, but his eyes are soft. “And if you want to have someone in your life who sends you dog pictures first? You can find them.”
“Cat pictures are also acceptable,” Jimin says, and his voice is thick again, heart beating against his ribs, chest aching from having something inside of it. “Just as good.”
Yoongi just chuckles under his breath, and Jimin slides down a little bit further on the couch, putting his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so lonely, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says, lips pressed to the side of his head.
“I’m sorry you still feel lonely sometimes, too, hyung,” Jimin tells him.
“It passes,” Yoongi answers quietly, and Jimin feels him rest his cheek on the top of Jimin’s head.
“Maybe that’s another thing about it,” Jimin says, and the realization sits deep in his chest, pushing back against the emptiness of his stomach, against the void there that takes up so much space despite holding nothing at all. “We’re never alone in our loneliness.”
Yoongi exhales in what might be a half-laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess we’re not. We’re all waiting for it to pass together.”
Jimin squeezes his eyes shut against the tears that threaten to rise again. “Thank you for waiting with me tonight.”
“Of course.”
“Love you, hyung.”
“Love you, Jimin-ah.”
When Yoongi stands, it’s with a soft kiss pressed to the top of Jimin’s head.
Jimin falls asleep to the sound of his own heart beat, the rhythm of it passes, it passes, it passes .
He wakes up to the smell of breakfast with upturned lips and a crick in his neck, and he slips off the couch and into his guest slippers.
“Morning, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok greets first, his hair rumpled, face still puffy, but offering a sleepy grin all the same.
“Coffee,” Yoongi says, peering blearily at him and pointing at a mug on the table.
It passes, Jimin thinks, picking up the mug and cradling it between his hands. He smiles, taking a slow breath in. “Good morning.”