Chapter Text
It’s late, he shouldn’t be up still. The nurse on shift however is distracted, so he takes the chance he’s been waiting for, as quietly and speedily as possible creeping out of the dark hospital ward into the glaring white of the corridors.
Ever since Hoseok died he’s wanted out. Every day at this damn hospital reminds him of how hopeful he used to be, how much he cared, how loved he felt.
Now he just feels tired. And... lonely. It’s surprisingly easy to slip out of the hospital, nurses at the end of long shifts, and no one’s expecting him to sneak out.
Turning the last corner Jimin holds his breath, tries to act as casually as possible and walks out onto the parking lot. Okay, okay, he’s out. Great. Fuck. Okay.
The night air is drafty, tugging his loose long-sleeve, hair lifting up off of his face. He’s been an inpatient on and off for a long time so while he has had near daily trips outside he still revels in the fresh air.
He doesn’t have a plan, he’s going to walk for as far as his weak body will take him. Maybe he’ll visit an old friend, or maybe he’ll only get as far as the river.
Walking around the carpark he notices how few people are out, it’s late, apparently late enough for Seoul to calm down to a low rumble.
Its stupid, he’s being stupid but he feels young. He feels like he’s in that obscure British tv show he illegally streamed on his laptop, Skins. Wonders if he could find a rave to go to, maybe get high out of his mind not on prescribed drugs for once.
He’s going to have fun, he promises himself that. So that’s how he ends up at a convenience store at 4am buying Soju, a packet of crisps and reduced kimbap. Not exactly fun but it’s a start and more freedom than he’s had in years.
He pays before making his way over to the table and chairs, unwrapping his nearing out of date seaweed triangle when a shadow falls over him. The fluorescent lighting had been giving him flashbacks to the hospital so he takes it gratefully, looking up with a small smile.
A man is standing beside him, “Hi.” he rasps in the nicest voice Jimin has ever heard.
“Hello,” Jimin replies curiously.
The man sits down next to him, there’s plenty of seating and he doesn’t look like he’s even brought anything but Jimin kind of doesn’t mind because the man is beautiful. Now not backlit he can see his features clearly. Soft face, pouty lips, he’s all curves and porcelain under a mop of striking black hair. He looks like he’s glowing, what kind of skin routine gives you that Jimin wonders.
“I’m Yoongi.” he says, voice lulling Jimin into trusting him.
“I’m Jimin.” Jimin says before biting into his kimbap. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you come over?”
“You looked friendly,” Yoongi replies with a disarming smile. “I just finished my ramen but didn’t really want to go home yet.”
“Oh, cool.”
“What sees you here at 4am then? I assume that has a story.” Yoongi asks casually.
“Um, ran away.”
Yoongis eyebrows lift high under his fringe, “Ran away from home? You don’t look quite that young.”
“Nah, just ran away from the monotony of life i guess, I want to really live tonight.”
“You do?” Yoongis gaze is sharp on him, making him feel a little bit stripped bare.
What’s there to see? Jimin thinks to himself, he must look ragged, tired from an old illness, tired from staying up to sneak out. He hasn’t bothered with himself in a long time, gone are the days of moisturiser and tinted lip balm.
“I do.” Jimin replies, tone firm and unwavering.
“Well I don’t know much about living but I wouldn’t have thought a convenience store would be the best place for it.”
“This is just a warm up, pre-living if you will.” Jimin points to his half eaten food, “Fuel for the night.”
“Okay.” Yoongi says in a tone that suggests he’s actually taking Jimin seriously, “Why do you have so much soju?”
“I kinda wanna get fucked up.” Jimin smiles widely.
“Is that how it is to live?”
“I mean, its part of life I guess, part of life that plenty people chase.”
Yoongi nods as though digesting this information. Jimin finds his demeanour a little odd, a little alien but doesn’t say anything.
“Part that I’m chasing tonight.” Jimin continues, finishing up his food and folding the wrappers into neat little triangles.
Yoongi is quiet for a long moment, long enough that Jimin starts to get uncomfortable, shifting in his seat, wondering how to excuse himself.
“I don’t really want to go home just yet.” Yoongi says slowly, as though that holds a lot of weight.
Jimin wonders what home is to Yoongi, can’t really get a read on his age, maybe mid twenties? But just as well could be thirty, he could have a wife, a wife that right now he doesn’t want to go home to.
“I don’t really want to go home yet either.” Jimin confesses. Thinking about his ‘home’, the repulsive scent of early morning hospital food and cracks open his soju. “Hey, Yoongi how do you feel about walking around the city aimlessly at 4.30am?”
Yoongi looks at him seriously for a moment before cracking into the most endearing wide gummy smile. Jimin tries his best not to be shy now, pretty boys be fucking up his life.
“I guess that’d be something I might enjoy.”
The night is cool as the step back out onto the dim orange cast street. A breeze whips down the street, making Jimin shiver.
“Here little one don’t be cold.” Yoongi says, as though they’re very familiar with one another.
Jimin raises his eyebrows but doesn’t pull back from the warm body that pulls him closer. The effect is instantaneous and surprising, Jimin feels as though he’s just put on clothes straight from the dryer. A fuzzy warmth wrapping around him. It’s a little bit of an odd feeling but Jimin can’t think to challenge it when it feels so good.
They aren’t far from the river now so that’s where Jimin guides them, past scruffy residential streets.
Stepping down onto the riverside Jimin feels something in him bloom, something long forgotten and awkwardly curled inside him unfurls. The sense that he is his own person, that there is a world around him that he’s entitled to.
No one wanted to say to him that the world wasn’t his as it was everyone elses but the point had been hammered in all the same. Nurses timing his outings, parents fussing over him standing in even the slightest draft.
But none of that was here. Here was a large expanse of water, reflecting thousands of tiny lights, the city around them bringing the dark water to life, making it glow.
He steps closer, feeling the fresh sea air take ahold of his face, breeze dancing along his skin, cupping his cheeks, nipping his ears. If he could just take this sea-fresh scent to his hospital bed and cocoon in it he would have more peace in his life, “fuck this feels good.”
“Hmm,” comes a curious face beside him, Yoongi who he had forgotten was even with him has come to stand beside him. Mirroring Jimins positioning, face tilted to the breeze as his own had been moments before. “This is nice.”
“Yea.” Jimin smiles ruefully. Something about his companion makes him look like a baby fawn facing wind for the first time, legs positioned a little awkwardly, eyes wide and alert but soft in a way that speaks of not knowing any of the worlds dangers could ever hurt him.
“We should jump in.” Yoongi suddenly suggests.
“No we absolutely shouldn’t, Jesus Christ.”
Yoongi frowns at that, turning his attention to watch Jimin. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t have a death wish?” Jimin replies incredulous. Even the thought of jumping into the inky water brings shivers across his skin.
This inexplicably makes a surprised laugh rumble out of Yoongi, at first like a rough huff and then picking up more until he actually has to reach out and clench Jimins arm in support.
The touch is so foreign Jimin startles, he’s used to people grabbing him as though they own him, nurses lifting his shirt as casual as anything but something about this touch feels so welcomed. Jimin could shake him off and tell him to never touch him again and Yoongi would have to listen. Something in that power, that autonomy over his own body makes Jimin grin, letting himself laugh along to a joke he doesn’t understand.
“Here,” Jimin says, voice breathless and bright with warmth. “We haven’t drunk enough.” Getting the soju out of the
plastic carrier bag that has been limp at his side.
Yoongi takes it gently. Holding the top between two long pale fingers, sloshing the clear liquid curiously. “To think this brings the end to so many lives.”
Jimin frowns, “I mean I guess.”
Yoongi simply hums and cracks the lid open, taking a quick long sip.
“Just need to sit down a second.” Jimin says, smile not leaving him even as his fatigue makes itself known. He lowers himself to the dirty floor, barely has it in him to feel embarrassed at doing this in front of a stranger.
Yoongi however seems to think this is a good idea, settling beside him after only a moment. “What’s the plan then? Do you have a... bucket list is it called? I’ve never really understood that phrase. Something about wishes to fill before death, I don’t know...”
“Heh, not so much, my bucket list is one big bullet point: Feel Alive.”
“For how long?” Yoongi asks, handing him the bottle.
Jimin considers this odd question, “As long as I get I suppose.”
“Do you feel alive now?” Yoongi asks, something about the way he speaks doesn’t feel like a strangers curiosity. More like someone who knows him and has reason to care. Someone who knows the gravity of what ‘feeling alive’ means to Jimin, why he most often doesn’t feel it. But that’s not possible, he really is a stranger.
“Kind of, well yes, yea I do. I want more of it.”
“What is it that life feels like exactly then? Sitting on a concrete pavement in the dark... Or watching a river?”
“Er, I guess it’s the way the air feels, not heavy and stale. The air tastes like night, you know? And it’s quiet, not in the way that people being asleep feels when you stay up later than everyone around you. But rather in the way that there aren’t really many people that close, but when you do hear them it’s in distant shouts, like there are other people out there really living too and you’re all just out there having lives.”
“This sounds very specific.”
“Huh, well life is specific, every moment individual.”
“Okay, I can understand that.” Yoongi replies.
Jimin closes the soju after taking a swift swig that takes a quarter of the bottle in one. “Come, lets go find some fun.”
Fun in Jimins mind means sneaking into a club, sneaking because he doesn’t have an ID on him but that only makes it more exciting. So that’s how they find themselves in a subway station.
“Shit, I don’t have enough money left for a ticket.” Jimin bemoans, staring helplessly into his wallet that he only really kept money in for the hospital vending machines.
“Ah well, neither do I but we can still get on.” Yoongi replies, walking up towards the barrier.
“How do you propose we do that?” Jimin asks amused.
“Just take my hand.”
So Jimin does, feeling slightly in awe as he gently clasps the outstretched cool pale hand. Fingers of a pianist, long and lean. Elegant.
Then right in front of a staff member he goes to jump the barrier.
“What the fuck hyung!” Jimin gasps, frozen, eyes on the staff member who is looking in their general direction.
“Look he isnt doing anything, don’t let go of my hand just, come on jimin-ah.”
“Why is he acting like you aren’t straddling the turnstile?” Jimin whispers harshly feeling a light panic grip him.
“Doesn’t matter Jimin-ah, come on.” Yoongi says, offering a gummy smile.
“Are you a drug lord or something?” Jimin asks, brain feeling a little fried.
“drug lord?” Yoongi repeats, incredulous.
“I don’t know! Mafia boss?”
Yoongi sighs deeply and tugs at Jimins hand until he succumbs and follows to climp over the turnstile.
“You haven’t said no.” Jimin grumbles.
“I thought the ridiculousness of those questions spoke for themselves.”
The platform they find themselves on is bright and empty. Glass walls separating the platform from the track gleaming and throwing their reflection at them. The two of them are an odd pair. While Jimin is scruffy with an outfit he hurriedly put on under his covers, hair untamed and stance weak. Yoongi stands strong, a dark line against the white walls, posture so commanding but slight, no taller than Jimin yet comparatively endless in its elegance. A pale porcelain face and hands striking against his dark hair and outfit. Against impossibly dark eyes.
He kind of questions what Yoongi is doing with him. Why would someone so polished, so beguiling give him the time of day?
Jimins not naive, he knows he’s regarded as beautiful. Just as growing up gave him an illness that unfurled, that took and took from his complexion until he looked sickly and weak. That wore away until his eyes sat heavy in dark circles. As that happened so did his maturity take hold, his cheeks settled back and let his strong jaw take precedency. Shoulders bulking out into a manly stature while still lean. None of this taking his youthful plush pout, his elegant straight nose and open dark eyes.
Perhaps it’s as simple as that, people are drawn to beautiful people. Even a dying flower like Jimin.
When the train comes in, swift and loud on its arrival Jimin scrambles to step forward.
Yoongi moving with ease beside him to take a seat in the empty carriage. “I like trains.” he states, eyes dark and curious as the train moves out of the station.
“Me too, I haven’t been on one in a long while.” Jimin confesses, ticking another point off of ‘feeling alive’ as he listens to the heavy rattle of the carriage, watches the black windows turn from stark white platforms to pitch black again and again.
He feels those black endless eyes on the side of his face but is too much of a coward to meet them head on.
The journey isn’t short but goes fast and they find themselves at Itaewon station with the sweet arrival jingle on the overhead speakers greeting them. They’re on the tail end of the clubs opening times but there are many open to choose from as they manoeuvre the streets scattered with drunken groups. Smoke fills the streets and the smell of liquor is heavy in the air but welcome all the same.
Yoongi pulls Jimin to a stop, gentle hand clasping his wrist. “Here, this club looks lively still. Lively being the optimum word right?” He quips.
“Sure.” Jimin replies, eyeing the security guard who is paying them no mind as he talks to someone and shares a cigarette.
Yoongi walks up to the entrance as though he’s not even trying to be discreet but somehow it works, no attention is drawn to them as Jimin scurries after him into the loud club.
“Hold onto me.” Yoongi tells him as they manoeuvre through the crowds.
Standing among the thickest part of the crowd, where the partiers are heavily intoxicated on both alcohol and the pounding bass, Jimin takes out his Soju once more. He hands the second bottle to Yoongi and downs the last of the first as though it were merely water.
He feels Yoongis eyes heavy on him, gaze settled where his throat is working, adams apple bobbing, jaw clenching and unclenching.
“Drink up.” Jimin says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing his pouted lips, Yoongi watches this too. But then does as he’s told, opening the bottle top and sniffing it.
Jimin screws up the plastic bag as Yoongi drinks, feeling a bit stupid for having it in a club but the alcohol doesn’t let him focus on it for long. It’s his turn now to watch Yoongi drink. And what a sight it is, reddened soft lips capturing the bottle opening, eyelids falling shut. Long pale throat on display.
Once he’s finished Jimin still can’t turn his gaze away, until Yoongi smirks and whispers, “Dance.”
Jimin follows the command, tuning in on the fast music and trying to follow it with his body. He once had aspirations in dance, that’s what he and Hoseok first bonded over, two gawky teenagers, passionate and young. Young and ill. The thought of his friend makes Jimins limbs feel heavier. Yoongi seems to notice, wrapping his arms around Jimins waist and tugging closer.
“You’re good at dancing Jimin.” He says, words syrupy. Jimins attention snaps back to the present and then some, body suddenly alight with the closeness to Yoongi.
“You’re good,” Yoongi continues voice now brighter. “But I’m better.”
And he’s not, he looks ridiculous as he bobs up and down, darts his limbs out with little to no pattern. But he grins, he smiles so wide that he has Jimin convinced. And he’s sure Yoongi is just doing this to rid him of the deep sadness that must have been apparent on his face. It works.
Time passes fast, challenging each-other into more and more ridiculous dance moves, laughing more than Jimin has in a long time. When the club starts to clear they go with it, spilling out onto the street with giggles chasing them.
“That was good.” Yoongi says, catching his breath and striding down the street so that Jimin has to hurry to catch up. “What next?”
Jimin eyes the slowly lightening sky and considers their options. He hasn’t been to a gallery in years.
“I would like to go to an art gallery.” He says, smiling at the idea.
Their walk to the train station is under the saturated blue that is the last hour before sunrise, the streets are near empty except for people such as themselves, slowly wandering towards transport.
“Lets get this train Jimin-ah.” Yoongi says as they walk through the wrong platform.
“But this is going in the opposite direction.” Jimin complains, coming to a still.
“Come anyway, the gallery can wait. I once picked someone up from this train and have a hunch we’ll see something beautiful.” Yoongi says, eyes fond.
“Beautiful?” Jimin enquires, watching the back of Yoongis head, hair looking so incredibly silky that it’s all Jimin can do to stop himself reaching out and threading his fingers through.
The train is far busier now but neither mind. Something about being in a throng of people is so purposeful, it makes you pay attention to the lives passing you by.
A pair of seats clear for them to sit by the window, Yoongi pokes Jimin so that he will twist around and look at the station platform. There’s nothing special to watch, just sleepy commuters making their way on and off the escalators. Soon though the train rumbles to life once more and they enter the open air, no longer underground.
Jimin doesn’t have to wait long before he understands, before the train pulls out onto the bridge and the moments stretch long and they pass over the water, sky in a beautiful gradient of sunrise. A hazy wash of periwinkle and gold. Water alive and sparkling with it.
“Oh.” Jimin whispers, fingers cupping the windows lip.
And then the moment speeds up again. They are passing through a tunnel and that’s that. Jimin turns to Yoongi who sits knees pressed against the backrest, eyes still wide and staring at the window that now only shows him his own reflection. He looks strangely young.
After a moment he speaks with a rasp, “Did that feel like being alive?”
“Yea,” Jimin says, eyes impossibly soft. “It did.”
They right themselves and Jimin looks around, slight dread preparing himself for peoples gazes but no one is looking their way. “I’m feeling tired now Yoongi hyung.”
“It’s okay Jimin, you can nap.”
And so he does, briefly looking to yoongi, checking to see if he’ll be rejected but all he can see is softness in the set of his face. So he tilts his head and rests against Yoongis shoulder exhaustion taking him.
The gallery looks tall and bright under the early sun. It’s one of those rare days where sky is blue with only the faintest haze, when the pavements bounce back the light and the leafless trees feel alive again.
Yoongi in the sun is... something else. Dark like a creature made for night, for big black blanketed skies smattered with stars. For corners unseen and inky waters. But here, as the sun halos his hair making the stray strands that bounce gently in the wind translucent. Here, as his pale skin is doused in morning sun. Here, as he smiles softly, walking closely beside Jimin. He looks like he was made for it.
“I haven’t been to this gallery before.” Jimin tells him, sticking close to Yoongis side, not out of necessity as the path is clear of people. But out of want, out of this feeling of gravity shifting, this feeling of not wanting this strange man slip out of his fingers.
“Neither have I.” Yoongi replies, pushing the big glass doors open, letting Jimin pass first.
The central entrance hall is big and echoing. Polished marble floors shine, the greeting desks to the side are made of the same marble, all clean lines and sharp corners. The staff there pay them no mind, clicking away at a keyboard or speaking on the telephone. The gallery is free admission so they move through the entrance into the first doorway that seems to promise traditional art.
In large glass cases are intricate pieces, more dotted along the walls, spaced out with plenty of room to breath.
Jimin thinks to himself as he looks around the slim but high ceilinged room, this is a place I’d like to stay. I would stay here and never return to the stale, disinfected hospital. I would stay and sit in on that large windowsill looking out onto a large courtyard, life would be slow in a different way than it is now. Life would be beautiful if nothing else.
He reaches out, heart beat making itself known and hooks Yoongis pinkie with his own. He hears the slightest intake of breath, waits a moment for any more reaction, and then relaxes as Yoongi just hooks his finger around Jimins in return.
He doesn’t know much about this man, this beautiful man who walks through the bright high ceilinged room with such grace that he seems ageless. Whose heels don’t clack the way Jimins do on the stone floor, whose clothes don’t even rustle. Quiet as anything. It strikes Jimin how unusual that is, but he just tucks the thought away in his heart and pays attention to the artwork.
The different rooms seem eclectic, going from old traditional Korean works, to modern colourful pieces to rooms of foreign works.
They stand now in a modern art room, the canvas in front of them is rich with colour, all golds and burnt orange and shining yellow that is painted in such a way as to glow. The woman sitting in the centre of the piece is done quite traditionally, a simple rendering but the colours speak loudly in a way that was not found in the older rooms. She sits there eyebrows drawn close and mouth pouting, skin in shades of beige and green making her seem almost ill. Jimin huffs out a laugh.
“What is it little one.” Yoongi asks, glancing at him with those dark eyes of his.
Jimin colours slightly at the endearment. “Nothing, it’s just... she reminds me a bit of myself.”
“Oh.” Is all Yoongi replies with, taking his hand fully now.
“Lets move on.” Jimin says, looking around to the next doorway. “Let’s go look at that old foreign art.”
Jimins heels clack as they walk through, he likes how he’s making noise, filling the silent space a little, claiming it.
The room is full of oil portraits, hung close and all the way to the ceiling, the room is stuffed full. All women and men sitting primly, the fact that they are sitting for a portrait is obvious, the fact that most of them are wealthy is even more obvious.
“She looks like her husband’s just told her a dirty joke.” Yoongi says, pointing a long pale finger to a portrait of a couple where the woman has a strange expression, almost like she’s keeping a noise of emotion trapped in her mouth.
Jimin laughs freely, letting the sound fill the room. Yoongi looks proud as he pulls him along to the next section of wall.
Here there are cherubs and angels, all painted with flushed cheeks, golden curls and pouting lips. They’re beautiful and almost make Jimin hope that heaven really is like that, that Hoseok is up there somewhere teasing a fat little cherub until it cries with laughter.
“They look nothing like angels.” Yoongi states, for some unknown reason scowling.
Jimin laughs, amused. “And you would know?”
Yoongi glances at him, scowl dropping slightly, “I mean look at them, none of these so called angels look anything as angelic as you do and you’re just a human.” He says it like its so deeply engrained with truth that no one would think to challenge it.
“You think?” Jimin asks, blush taking over his cheeks.
“Of course I think.” Yoongi says, clenching his hand tighter.
“Yoongi, I don’t mean to be presumptuous...” Jimin begins, but he has no idea what to say. How to say, you are so beautiful I’ve been trying not to kiss you all night. Especially when you smile, especially when you made a fool out of yourself dancing to make me cheer up. Especially when you stared at the passing sunrise as though you’d never seen one properly before. Especially when you sat with me on the dirty floor because I was tired. Especially when you sat down next to me in that grubby convenience store as though you’d known me all your life. Especially now.
He can’t bring it to words so he doesn’t. He just leans forward, slowly and carefully as though giving Yoongi a chase to let go of his hand and run for the hills. Until he’s close and their noses are rubbing, he’s closing his eyes and Yoongi is just staring in wonder. Their lips touch and bloom with warmth, so soft against each other. Someone had once told Jimin his lips were made for kissing and he uses that to his advantage now.
Yoongi gasps deep against his lips.
Jimin comes to. “Shit sorry! I, damn I’m sorry.”
“No, no.” Yoongi whispers, reaching out to cup Jimins cheek like he’s holding a small baby. He leans in closer until their breaths are brushing against each other, lingers there, suspiciously like he’s smiling. Slotting his lips against Jimins, pressing closer and moving against him so tentatively, so curiously.
When they pull apart Jimin feels weak, he smiles a little giddy and feels his exhaustion catching up to him. Like his body was holding out for this, and now it can rest.
“Just wasn’t expecting it. Haven’t done that before.” Yoongi tells him quietly.
“Kissed?” Jimin asks, frowning lightly in confusion and looking around for the marble bench. He finds it and walks backwards until it’s bushing his legs, sits heavily with the weight of weakness and illness.
“mm” is all Yoongi responds, taking a seat next to him.
“Aren’t you like.. older than me?” Jimin asks, his tone isn’t judgemental, just gently curious.
“You could say that.” Yoongi rasps out, a laugh following. “I’ve experienced a lot, it’s true, this though was something that never interested me.”
“Really?” Jimin asks, lowering his gaze and staring at the floor like it’ll have answers, like it’ll explain Yoongis whole life to him.
“Uhuh, but I like the idea of it now.” He says, smiling and biting into his bottom lip.
“Hyung, I should tell you something important about me. I’m ill. Like really ill, like the doctors are surprised I’ve made it this long ill.” Jimin says tentatively like he might break Yoongi.
“Okay.” Yoongi says, surprising him. Jimin glances over and finds him watching, dark eyes so deeply intent, nameless expression in them.
“Yea.” Jimin breathes.
“Better make the most of it then huh.” Yoongi says like it’s that simple. Maybe it is that simple.
Jimin for all the time he’s been given since his diagnosis has been hopeful. He’s been brave and patient. He’s been letting doctors prod and nurses touch him like he’s an object. He’s been giving his life to a hope of a miraculous cure, but then Hobi died. Then he saw life for what it is, death for what it is, and he stopped being scared. Because his best friend wasn’t in pain every day anymore and maybe he soon won’t be either. He thinks, when death comes knocking on his door he’ll greet it like an old friend.
So when Yoongi says that it makes sense, Jimin should just make the most of life while he has it. That’s been what this night had all been about. Even now, with sleep hanging heavily in his peripheral Jimin doesn’t quite want to let go yet, he doesn’t want to succumb to the hospital ward again.
“I think they have a gift shop.” Yoongi tells him, looking about himself curiously. “I always like gift shops.”
Jimin laughs again, wow, maybe it is just that simple he thinks as he lets Yoongi pull him up.
The gift shop is small but packed full, Jimin feels like a kid, picking things up and fiddling, smiling at crudely drawn mug versions of the beautiful art work he just saw.
Yoongi too looks young. He suits it, like for all his grace and poise he’s just a bouncing boy inside.
There’s a candle Jimin finds, its a delicious red and apple shaped. The little rope for lighting that sticks out at the top is there instead of a stalk, knotted at the top. Jimin leans forward and sniffs in a rich spicy scent, eyes practically glittering with want.
“You like that?” Yoongi asks, coming up beside him.
“I do, but you know I have no money on me.” Jimin says, leaning back again. “I can ask my parents for it.”
“But you deserve it.” Yoongi says, staring at the candle with a pout.
Jimin laughs soft, “I can wait.”
When they leave the gallery the sun is set higher in the sky. Jimin smiles, it smells a little like sewers on this street side but that doesn’t bother him. Not after lemon scented disinfectant made a permanent home in his nose at the hospital.
“Here,” Yoongi says, pulling something out of his coat pocket. Jimin looks over curiously, eyes widening when he sees the apple candle sitting innocently on his palm. “It’s for you.” He says with a wide gummy smile.
“You’re a thief?” Jimin asks, eyes wide as saucers. “You don’t look like a thief, maybe jumping the train barrier should have been a clue...”
Yoongi lets out a little high pitched cackle that make Jimins heart beat faster.
“I could have waited.” He says, exasperated.
“No you couldn’t” Yoongi says, patting his shoulder before taking his hand again.
Jimin leans closer, pressing his head to the crook of Yoongis neck. “Hmm sleepy now hyung. Thank you for the apple.”
“S’okay Jimin. Come on sleepy, one last place, where do you want to go to say good bye?”
“Let’s go sit at the riverside.” Jimin says, wondering if Yoongi will let him nap against him for a little while again.
“Come on then, I don’t think we’re far.” Yoongi says, tugging Jimin along gently.
Jimin smiles to himself, before mischievously adding, “Wanna make out with you at the river.”
Yoongi coughs, squeezing his hand once, twice. “You can do that.” He replies quietly.
Jimin smiles as they walk along the empty streets to the stairs that lead down to the river side path. He never thought he’d get to fall in love, lost too young. But here he was, feeling that he might just get to yet.
For a while they just walk along the bike path quietly, both pairs of eyes trained on the sun hitting the river. It’s so incredibly wide, broken up only by the bridges that cut across it with shadow further down. Along the other side are lines of tall buildings, slightly hazy with the distance.
“How long have we been out?” Yoongi says suddenly.
“Don’t know, my phones switched off. Looks like late morning now so maybe 8 hours?” Jimin replies, watching as Yoongi walks beside him. “Why, you got somewhere to be?”
“No, just stay close to me.”
The shadows seem lengthen, crawling across the pavement as though the sun is moving at speed across the sky. Jimin frowns, feeling Yoongis hand clamp around him like a vice.
“Yoongi hyung are you okay?” He asks, slightly concerned now.
“Fine Jimin-ah, come on, how about I take you to my place for a nap. You’d like that yea?” He asks with a small smile, speed picking up.
Jimins heart picks up speed, he’s almost worried Yoongi will feel his thundering pulse where their wrists are pressed together. This is more than Jimin had hoped, how long will Yoongi let him stay he wonders. To not have to go back to the hospital, to... be with Yoongi, to hold him and sleep and maybe make out? Wow.
“For fucks sake.” He hears Yoongi grumble.
Jimin follows his gaze to a dark figure. It’s almost discernible whether its a man or creature, so dripping in darkness as it is.
“Come here Jimin.” The man calls, voice kind.
How does he know my name Jimin thinks, confusion heavy and rolling in his mind.
“Er,” Jimin starts, looking quickly to Yoongi. “No?”
“No, you will not. He isn’t for you.” Yoongi says cryptically, voice harder than the soft rumbling rasp Jimin is familiar with.
The creature smiles, it god damn smiles. A crescent so shadowed that it’s hard to make out. Like being in a dark room and having someone close to you. “Let me have him Grim.” The man asks, voice almost polite, like he’s talking about having the last chocolate or something mundane. Not a person.
Yoongi seems to be growing more and more agitated, “Back off.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you on drugs? Have me? What? You think I would let you have me???” Jimin asks in confused outrage.
The man says, speaks directly to Yoongi, as though Jimin isn’t boiling over with indignation. “I can sense it in him, he wants to live, they always do. Let him stay here, let me have him, I’ll look after him I promise.”
“You won’t give him life.” Yoongi scoffs. “You just hold onto people in a... a pitiful limbo.”
“Shit am i on drugs?” Jimin murmurs, anger losing steam.
“If not me then at least give him to the river, look he loves the river, he’d like it.”
“Listen here bitchass I am guiding him!” Yoongi growls.
And then something so nonsensical happens that Jimin roots to the spot, mouth hanging open. Yoongi lets go of his hand and with a blur of movement and colour and fur(?) he leaps forward. What lands is not Yoongi. What lands is a giant fucking tiger.
Jimin stumbles back, watching as though mesmerised as the tiger approaches the dark figure at speed, the mans eyes widen, two circles of white in a mass of shadow and he backs away.
“Listen, there’s no need to get this mad, he’s just a boy.”
The tiger doesn’t listen. Because... it’s a tiger. Just prowling closer, the man backing up slowly. Jimin can almost feel his fear, or maybe that’s his own.
And then in a flurry of movement the tiger swipes, The black figure dispersing like wisping black smoke where the paw touches.
The tiger turns once the smoke is dissipated, he turns and Jimin feels so incredibly lost, not scared, just lost. The tiger has clever dark eges, round towards his nose and tilted down towards the outside edges.
“Hi.” Jimin whispers before he knows what he’s doing.
The tiger walks towards him until his head is pressed to his chest, a big warm weight like nothing Jimin has ever known. He’s still not scared. Then in one swift movement the tiger is standing on hind legs to wrap his paws around Jimins shoulder, big eyes so so close and watching with warmth. The tiger pushes his head forward, impossibly soft, rubbing along Jimins jaw and when he pulls back? It’s Yoongi. The heavy weight from his shoulders is gone, replaced by the warmth of human arms.
“what the fuck was that.” Jimin gasps. Nearly stumbling back but still being so drawn to Yoongi. No matter what he is. What is he?
“Pretty boy, trust me.” Yoongi rasps, hiding his face against Jimins neck.
“I trust you.” Jimin assures him, he can’t help himself.
“He assumed you were a lost soul to claim.” Yoongi tells him sadly, dripping with sadness. Jimin forgets all about his confusion, cupping Yoongis face like a flower in small gentle hands.
“It’s okay, whatever it is it’s okay. Come on, you said we could go back to yours for a nap?” Jimin says, exhaustion deep deep in his bones. He’s surprised he hasn’t passed out yet.
Yoongi leads him to a small set of stairs, up through a few empty streets, Jimin can’t pay much attention to his surrounds, tired as he is. He lets his weight rest more on Yoongi, has no power in him to stop it.
“Okay Jimin, not long now.” He Whispers against his hair, voice like a lullaby.
And he’s right, because after only a moment more they are standing in front of a building covered near entirely in ivy, the door is barely visible through it but Yoongi knows exactly where the handle is, the door giving away as soon as he pushes.
Even as disoriented as Jimin is he notices how beautiful the space behind the door is. A courtyard, surrounded at all sides by the most beautiful hanok building, sloped roof over hanging in gentle slate waves. Paper sliding doors decorated in rich wooden patterns, gleaming in the sunlight. Yoongi hurries them through, opening a door to their right and setting Jimin on the heated floor. It feels like bliss to put now bare feet against the floor panelling. Yoongi sets out a futon, unrolling blankets and then with gentle arms like Jimin is the most delicate thing in the world he pulls him to himself. Cradles him and curls around him on the futon.
Jimin immediately drifts.
When Jimin opens his eyes he feels not better but at least some wakefulness now, turning in Yoongis arms to find dark eyes watching him.
“Hello beautiful boy.” He says in a sleepy rasp.
Jimin smiles, feels it in his whole body, all of him smiling into the embrace. Leaning in to speak against Yoongis lips. “Good morning beautiful man.”
That draws a silent chuckle out of Yoongi that Jimin can only feel in the shake of the arms around him. They draw closer in a kiss, soft and slow.
“I think you deserve some answers.” Yoongi speaks again. Jimin agrees, he does deserve some answers, he’s actually quite proud of himself for being so steady minded about the whole thing.
Yoongi pulls back, only enough to watch him with expressive eyes, the space between their chests just enough to cradle a baby, or for a curled up puppy.
“I am death. Some call me the grim reaper, others call me the angel of death.” Yoongi says with a rueful smile. “I came to you last night to take you. But you... you were something I had not come across before. You are more beautiful than any person I have taken to the village of death.”
Jimin blinks. Parts his lips. Blinks again.
“You can stay with me now beautiful boy, and trust me when I tell you that you will be happy.”
A tear slides from Jimins eye, across the bridge of his nose and onto a Yoongis finger that reaches over to catch it. “I’m sorry that you didn’t get to live more. I didn’t get a choice. People die. I come to save them.”
“Who was that man?” Jimin asks, voice faint.
“That bastard.” Yoongi suddenly scowls. “Every place has a shadow watching over it, they watch and take spirits who lose their way, who I don’t get to in time. The shadow of that path wanted you to stay there as a ghost, alone and confused forever.”
“Oh.” Jimin whispers, not really taking the information in. “I think I would like to nap again.”
Yoongi smiles soft and so incredibly tender. “Of course you can, come closer pretty.”
Jimin shuffles until his face is pressed to Yoongis neck. Warm puffs of breath against him.
When Jimin wakes this time it’s to Yoongi kissing his cheeks. Soft presses of plush lips again and again.
“Mmm?” Jimin hums, coming to.
“Hello sweetheart, there is something we have to do.” Yoongi tells him, helping him stand up. Jimin is still so weak as they make their way out onto the bright courtyard once more and then into a main room that has large glass sliding doors. The room isn’t very large but plenty spacious, in the centre is a low table with cushions surrounding to sit. The back wall of the room is glass, through the other side all Jimin can see is long grasses at the front and a wall of trees. The trees are out of season, alive with green leaves and little birds hoping if you look closely. It makes Jimin gasp in delight.
“Sit with me, I have prepared you some food.” Yoongi says, watching him with a smile.
Jimin turns from the window to sit at the table beside Yoongi. On the surface are an assortment of foods, a bowl of ramen, meats, steamed buns, strawberries sliced on a plate. Jimins stomach grumbles, suddenly overwhelmed with hunger and desire to eat this beautiful food. So he does, reaching out to pop a strawberry into his mouth.
As quickly and calmly as any passing thought, it comes to him. The knowledge of how he died. On his hospital bed beside his nurse.
If he had felt confused by Yoongi before he isn’t now.
It’s funny that Jimin doesn’t mind this deep rooted realisation, that he isn’t crying or shouting. As sick as he was, he had wanted to be alive, he had wanted to get better.
“Eating makes you settle, brings you here fully.” Yoongi explains in a quiet murmur as though not wanted to distract him.
Jimin turns, looks Yoongi, the beautiful angel of death in the eyes and smiles. To greet death like an old friend. He smiles.
“You’re so pretty.” Yoongi whispers, eyes bright with emotion and maybe tears. Lunging forward he takes Jimins face into his hands and presses a desperate kiss to his waiting lips. Sucking and nibbling and tugging gently with his teeth, Jimin whines into in, pressing back just as wantingly.
They break apart, both pulling in big breaths and then laughing at each other. Yoongis laugh is a quiet rumble, Jimin wants to hear it forever.
“Eat up Jimin.” Yoongi tells him.