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Jimin was sad.
He was sad and he was walking.
He didn’t know why he was sad, and that just made him more sad.
But the fresh air and the light breeze helped. It didn’t heal him, it didn’t carry his worries away in the breeze, like water eroding a rock of its sharp edges. No, it just grazed over him, cooled his skin, tousled his hair, tinted his nose a light pink. It was just there.
Jimin was cold.
The sun was setting, pink clouds reflecting in the ripples of the Han river. Jimin stuffed his hands in his pockets and burrowed his chin into his scarf. It would be dark soon.
Jimin was alone.
He preferred it that way when he was sad. He preferred not to bother anyone with his moping and his ‘grumpy’ mumbling and his silence. He preferred it, but it ached.
That feeling deep in his stomach, like his ribs clenching in on his internal organs, hugging. Hugging. Jimin ached.
Not far away, a silhouette stood by a bench, holding a sign. As Jimin got closer, he read: FREE HUGS!!!
Jimin was still.
He stopped walking, frowning at the sign. His heart clenched, tired, and his ribs hugged him, squeezed him, aching.
He shuffled forward, stopping in front of the Free Hugs Man. “Hi.”
The man’s smile was warm, his eyes sparkling with reflections of the sunset. “Hi.”
“Um,” Jimin pointed at the sign. “Is it still…” He couldn’t find the words he wanted, ducking his head and mumbling, “Can I?”
“Of course.” The stranger set down his sign, opening his arms.
Jimin shuffled into his space, carefully wrapping his arms around the taller man’s waist. He rested his head on the man’s chest, nose nudging the crook of his neck.
They were together.
The stranger was with him. With him. Around him.
His big arms were hugging Jimin close, strong. So close and so warm and so together. Their chests were so tightly pressed, Jimin thought he could feel the other man’s heart beat though the layers that separated them.
He could feel the warmth of the man all over his chest, the side of his face, the insides of his arms where they were wrapped around him. Somehow, he could feel the man behind his ribs, warming his heart like a small fire warmed the hands of tired campers.
The warm pressure of the man holding his back, arms squeezing him so tight, so warm. His ribs relaxed.
Jimin was crying.
He was crying into the man’s neck, into his chest, hiding away in the man’s arms as the man held him closer, running his hands up and down Jimin’s back, nuzzling into the top of his head.
“I’m sorry.” Jimin blubbered, sobs escaping him, “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s ok. Crying is ok.”
“But--” Jimin pulled his head away, looking at the wet spots on the man’s sweater, “I messed up your clothes.”
“That’s ok,” He nodded and allowed Jimin to nestle his head back onto his chest.
Jimin kept crying. His lips turned out and his chin wobbled and his eyes squished closed, forehead tense and wrinkled. His temples ached, red and hot and his throat burned as he sobbed into the man. Shaking, squeezing the man tight and tense, his breaths squeaky and wet, he cried.
He cried because he needed to.
After his breathing had calmed down, ragged whispers of air entering and leaving him, his face tired and wet, he relaxed. He relaxed into the man’s arms, no longer holding him tight. Just holding him, letting himself be held. He breathed.
Cool air whipped against his face, making his skin feel icy cold where it was stained with tears. But he felt good. Secure, relieved.
He listened to the man’s breathing and played a game, tried to match it with his own. In out, in out until they were one.
“Hey,” The stranger pet his head with a big hand, delicate. “Do you feel better?”
Jimin sighed, closing his eyes and pressing his nose into the man’s wet sweater. He nuzzled further into him, hanging onto him. “I feel better,” He mumbled.
“Good. I’m Namjoon.”
“Jimin.”
“Hi Jimin.”
He giggled. A scratchy, bright thing, like cracked porcelain. “Hi Namjoon. You’re a really good hugger.”
“You too.” Jimin could feel Namjoon’s smile on the top of his head. He could also feel the distant rumble of his stomach.
Jimin giggled. “Do you want to get food?”
“Yes,” Namjoon’s answer was sheepish, mumbled into Jimin’s hair. “There’s a good ramen place near here, it’s warm. We could go--I mean, only if you want.” Jimin felt Namjoon’s arms tense around him. “We just met and everything, so I know that might be weird--”
“I just cried in your arms for like twenty minutes. Dinner isn’t weird.”
“Ok,” Namjoon pulled back, holding Jimin at arms length. “Shall we go?”
If Jimin had ever thought that eating dinner with a stranger he found off the street would be awkward, he would be wrong.
They had walked to the restaurant in comfortable silence, shoulders bumping occasionally. It was nice. It was nice to walk with someone else, knowing that he wasn’t the only one shivering beneath his layers, not the only one with their cheeks and nose stinging from the cold.
As promised, the restaurant was warm. After ordering, they settled in, slumped and huddled over a small table.
The question had been rolling around Jimin’s tongue for a few minutes before he finally asked, voice soft, “What made you come out today? Why were you giving free hugs?”
Namjoon ducked his head, blushing. He mumbled something.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
Namjoon sighed, lifting his head but still not making eye contact. “I needed a hug too.”
Jimin couldn’t contain the smile that took over his face, cooing at the larger man. He teased, “Selfish Namjoonie. Using poor old me as a teddy bear.”
Namjoon just ducked his head again, flushed smile hidden.
Jimin thought he had said something but he wasn’t sure. “What was that?”
He buried his face in his hands, voice loud but still muffled, “You look like a teddy bear.”
Jimin squawked, a small “AH!” escaping him. Butterflies erupted in his stomach, tickling his tummy. He held his cheeks where they were flushed red, “Why would you say that! I’m all--” He squished his cheeks, “--pink!”
Namjoon giggled at him, squeaky, “It’s cute. You’re cute. I think you’re cute.”
“AH!” Jimin hid, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his head. “No more talking!” After a moment of muffled laughter, he felt a gentle hand tug at one of his wrists. He peeked up.
“Come back,” The big man pouted, holding Jimin’s wrist with three delicate fingers.
Jimin, heart clenching for an entirely different reason than before, loosened his limbs, letting his legs fall back into their proper place.
Pleased, Namjoon smiled big, eyes crinkling.
Jimin’s skin burned where Namjoon still held onto it. He felt a wave of heat flash up his neck and onto his face as he maneuvered their hands together, intertwining their fingers.
Jimin wasn’t looking, but he knew Namjoon was pink too.
After dinner, they were bundled up on the street. It was dark out, people coming out of the shops and restaurants around them.
Jimin looked at Namjoon. Namjoon, with his smiling lips and kind eyes. He was beautiful. His eyes still sparkled, even in the dark, finding any light and pointing it right back out. Right at Jimin.
He sniffled, opening his mouth--
“Jimin--oh, sorry. Go ahead.”
“Uh,” Jimin nestled into his scarf. “I was just going to say thank you. For the hug. And for dinner.” His heart raced, cold flooding his head. “And I wanted to ask you--fuck,” He buried his face in his hands.
In his mind, Jimin saw a string between them. Ever since they hugged, ever since they touched, they hadn’t strayed farther than a couple feet. A string hung between them, tied them together, and Jimin didn’t want to cut that tie. But now it was taught. It felt like an ultimatum.
“Can we stay together?”
Namjoon stared.
“Just--can we be friends? Or--” Jimin mumbled the last part, “--something. I don’t know! I just--I want to hug you more. Yeah. And hold hands, if you want to--OOF!”
Namjoon crashed into him, wrapping him up in his arms and nearly making the two of them topple over. He yelled, breathless, “Yes!”
As Jimin struggled, strained with Namjoon’s weight leaning over him, he let a shock of laughter escape him.
Namjoon laughed too.
They were just two hugging, laughing fools, wrapped in each other's arms outside a noodle place.
Namjoon held him close, mumbling into his hair, “Let’s stay together for a long time.”
Jimin wasn’t alone.