Chapter Text
01
I can’t wait for the next post haha have fun on your date!
You’re so pathetic for humiliating your dates like that. You should be ashamed of yourself!
Are you for real? How do you chug down ten glasses of soju on the first date? How funny kkk
Jimin scrolls down the notifications that light up the screen of his phone. He scolds himself for forgetting, once again, to turn them off. The constant vibration of more comments coming in earns him too much attention from the couples occupying the tables next to the one Jimin set his eyes on after entering the coffee shop.
It’s a nice place, Jimin thinks. The windows are big enough for the light to bathe the interior in a warm glow of afternoon sun, and the main room is spacious, giving the customers the guarantee of their conversations not reaching the ears of those sitting at any table close by. That’s probably why Jimin likes to invite his blind dates here — even though he deems them all pointless, he can at least order his favourite latte, with almond milk and just the right amount of cinnamon dotting the whipped cream on top.
You might wonder why Jimin initiates the meetings at all, if he doesn’t see them ending successfully, anyway. There are times, especially when listening to one more man rambling about his workout routine — or, well, when pretending to be paying attention to the other’s words, while stuffing himself with spoonfuls of strawberry ice cream — that Jimin reckons: maybe it’s not worth it.
But, just one glance at the comments, left underneath one of his multiple posts, convinces Jimin of the opposite. He receives hundreds of them, some telling about the most unfortunate dates Jimin has ever heard of and others mentioning the very same thing Jimin wholeheartedly believes — that there’s no such thing as love. He likes seeing the latter the most.
Jimin started the series describing his dating experiences after one particularly bad one. He still remembers the bitterness of frustration lingering on his tongue after he got back home, his button-up drenched in soju and hair clumped together from a sticky fluid Jimin didn’t want to envision the origin of.
All he had done was type all the fiery humiliation down, words muddled and disarrayed, expecting not much more than a small sense of closure. What he didn’t expect was for the post to blow up all over social media, bringing him thousands of followers and a demand for more misfortunate escapades -- escapades Jimin had avoided until now.
Funnily enough, that’s how Jimin had ended up meeting his best friend, Yoongi. In a lesser misfortune, both of them had been set up on a date by their friends. (In Jimin’s case, Seokjin was the culprit, while Yoongi suffered from a bet with someone Jimin didn’t get to meet till today.)
The date was horrible. After not more than fifteen minutes Jimin and Yoongi eyed each other up with an eerie understanding of this becoming their first and last date. After that had been established, they figured why not enjoy the night, since they were already there. It led them to a heated argument over which social media media app is more influential — Twitter or Instagram — and when the waitress left the receipt on their table, it felt natural to exchange numbers. Thinking back, Jimin doesn’t understand what prompted him to appoint Yoongi, the sweetest person in the world disguised as a hermit, as his best friend, but he doesn’t find remorse tainting the memory with its shades.
Are you from Seoul? It feels like you are!
Jimin huffs, amused. It’s not like more than fifty percent of South Korea’s population live in the capital, and the area surrounding it. He scrolls some more, his free hand encircled around a cup of coffee, when he hears a squeaky voice addressing him. Jimin’s eyes hover over the blonde-haired guy, who's in a fucking suit , feeling his excitement dispersing in a span of a second.
Who comes to a date in a suit?
“You’re Jimin, right?”
Jimin puts his phone down, screen facing the surface of the table, and offers the man a wide smile, a smile a little too strained to be genuine, but by the looks of it the newcomer is not about to notice. Jimin nods curtly.
When his date finally plops down on the chair opposite to him, Jimin ponders over the flavour of soju he should buy on his way to Yoongi’s apartment. Maybe peach?
In the back of his head he hears the man complimenting his looks and he smiles gratefully at the other, fingers laced around the coffee cup. The warmth of the drink heats up his skin, a tingling sensation circulating up his arms, as the tips of his fingers draw leisure shapes on the porcelain surface.
No, he would rather get the grapefruit one. He bets Yoongi would prefer it, too.
02
“So he came in a suit? Who wears a suit these days?” Yoongi laughs, gums on display as he doubles up, wrapping his arms around his waist.
He’s sitting on the carpeted floor despite an old, worn out sofa standing directly behind his back. That could be possibly attributed to Jimi, who has sprawled out on the cushions in a way that doesn't leave Yoongi much space to occupy. Yoongi’s legs are stretched out under the table, eyes leveled on a dozen of bottles of soju placed atop, and every single time he laughs, his chest presses against the edge of the table.
“Businessmen I guess?” Jimin ponders out loud, throwing his hands over his eyes, fingers rubbing over the pulsating pain beneath his eyelids. “He is an intern in some big company.”
Yoongi glances at Jimin over his shoulder.
“So, he wasn’t rich.”
Logically, it should sound like a question, but it doesn’t. A lot of things Yoongi says don’t sound like they should and yet, they sound just right when he’s the one uttering them.
Jimin erupts in laughter. “Are you kidding me? He made me pay for our coffees.”
Yoongi chuckles. From where Jimin lies, it looks like the other is surveying the yet to be opened bottles of soju. He presumes that Yoongi’s trying to figure out how many more they can stomach before they throw up. If you ask Jimin, they already reached that point some time ago.
“Did he make you order the cheapest drink they had on the menu?” Yoongi snickers from behind the hand hovering in front of his lips.
“Nope,” he answers before he shifts to lie on his side. “One of the more expensive ones, actually.”
“So, waste of time?” Yoongi puffs, reaching for another bottle, grunting unapologetically as his bones crack at the stretch. Jimin grimaces.
“No, not really. His post on my blog already has two thousand views, though, and I swear it hasn’t even been an hour since I typed it up.”
With the lights dimmed and the night blanking out all the bright tones outside of the window, it becomes a great challenge for Jimin to not let his eyelids fall, blanketing his vision with nothing but darkness. Eventually, he succumbs into the urge, feeling his eyes closing and he doesn’t fight it.
“Don’t let it get to your head. You’re not a celebrity. I know you know that too.”
Jimin smiles into the darkness, giving a hoot of laughter.
“Hyung, you’re so mean,” he whines pointedly. Oddly enough, even though his eyes are closed, he doesn’t feel sleepy. Maybe a little bit, but it’s still manageable to keep his drowsy mind in check. “I’ll hire you as my servant when I’m already filthy rich. Just wait.”
He hears Yoongi move, but his hands don’t meet Jimin’s body.
“Can you promise me that you’ll be become the richest man in South Korea before I turn eighty, though? I want to bathe in the splendor of your fame while my body is still all pert.” Jimin can’t help it, he lets another salvo of laughter ripple through his body.
“You’re so disgusting, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin articulates, forcing his tongue to move instead of sleeping inside his mouth. “Oh my god, why are we even friends?”
Yoongi shifts once again, but this time the shuffling of his clothes is laced with the clinking of bottles that the older probably is moving around for some reason. Jimin doesn’t care enough to open his eyes and see for himself.
“You forced me to hang out with you when we first met, that’s why.”
“You literally texted me first!”
Yoongi spits tenderly. “'Cause I felt urged to do it after you whined about how lonely you were the whole evening.”
“I think you mistake me for you. You were the one without friends.”
“In retrospect, I think having no friends might have been better than enduring your company twenty-four seven.”
“Let’s end this relationship, hyung,” Jimin sighs, resting his head on his arms, serving him as a makeshift pillow. “It’s pointless. You hate me.”
“Don’t forget, you promised me a job as your servant. I can’t just walk away from something like this.”
The last words are stifled, as if uttered from a distance and Jimin wrinkles his nose, anticipating. Soon enough, when Yoongi’s steps become louder again, Jimin feels something soft engulfing his entire body. His hands reach for the blanket instinctively, fingers curling around the hem and pulling it up to his chin.
Jimin doesn’t answer for a while, his mind dazzled by the warmth enveloping every inch of his skin. Meanwhile, Yoongi moves from one place to another, and Jimin determines the sounds fathered by Yoongi's movements indicate that he’s readying himself to bed, too.
“I should sleep. Another date tomorrow,” Jimin mumbles. The words are slurred and swallowed by the blanket covering one corner of his lips, but based on the fact Yoongi replies, they seem to have been just loud enough for the other to catch them.
“Shouldn’t you practice for your dance evaluations?”
“I can sacrifice one more day.” Jimin’s mind is already asleep as the words escape his lips. If Yoongi had decided to reveal to Jimin that he’s been a frog in disguise of a human all along, Jimin wouldn’t have remembered it whatsoever the next morning.
“Does it at least sound promising?”
“No… no, just… just some art kid…”
Jimin falls asleep.
03
The same coffee shop Jimin met with the suited man yesterday is not farther than twenty minutes away from the condominium Yoongi’s apartment was situated in on the highest floor, enabling Jimin to watch the sunrise from the sofa he usually occupies when visiting his friend. He prefers when it’s cloudy outside, so that the view is not similar to a simple, blue square, but rather resembles a disarray of grey and white, some spots of color shining through here and there. It’s a mess, a beautiful one. Jimin would never say it out loud, knowing Yoongi and Seokjin would laugh the moment the words escaped his tongue, but deep inside he thinks he’s just like the cloudy sky, perfectly imperfect.
It’s just one more thing Jimin doesn’t say out loud, because he cannot fathom others comprehending any of it. They might think they do, but he knows better than granting someone an insight into the chaos he deems his thoughts to be. He can’t blame them. He couldn’t untangle them himself. Expecting his friends to doesn’t seem too fair.
After draining one cup of tea, Jimin leaves the empty apartment in rushed steps. Yoongi already left for work hours ago, so Jimin spent the morning watching dramas on his friend’s old TV and clearing the fridge out of the minimum bought by the latter. He almost feels sorry for Yoongi, seeing nothing more than bottles of soju, dozens of mandarins and eggs on the shelves. He should tell Seokjin to force Yoongi to get some groceries. Much to Jimin’s sourness, Yoongi seemed to only listen to Seokjin when it came to replenishing his fridge or simply taking care of himself. Whenever Jimin tried to voice his concerns, all Yoongi gave him was a shrug of the shoulders and a pained look, signaling that Yoongi’s utterly done with him. Still, it never kept him from trying.
The weather is as pleasant as the November weather can be — the sky is monochrome with grey, shades of it scattered all over the firmament like a meadow of cotton extending from one skyscraper up until the next one. The wind whips Jimin’s cheeks, not losing fervor, making him set up the collar of his coat in hope of giving his prickling skin a break from the cold. It doesn’t necessarily help, so he speeds up, walking in the direction of the coffee shop.
He’s a bit curious this time, considering the person he’s meeting reached out first and, usually, it’s Jimin who pulls the first move. They didn’t really talk before arranging the meeting, though Jimin noticed the man, called Taehyung, tried to stir up conversation anyway.
Maybe that’s one of the reasons he decided to accept Taehyung’s invitation — he’s tired of the same story each of his dates have brought with themselves. Sure, focusing hard enough, Jimin has always found something worth caricaturing on his blog, offering his readers a reason to laugh, but aside from his growing number of followers, there’s not much Jimin has gained personally from the meetings. After a while they became just another part of his daily routine, boring and monotonous, regardless of how much the men he met tried to impress him. He really doesn’t expect for this Taehyung guy to be any different.
When Jimin arrives at the front of the coffee shop, he halts, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his coat. He swiftly glances at the time, fifteen minutes too late, and smiles briefly at himself. Maybe it’s silly, but Jimin noticed those who wouldn’t wait are not worthy of his time whatsoever. The fifteen minutes rule certainly helps with chasing them away.
Jimin exhales, bracing himself for what’s to come, and enters the coffee shop.
It hasn’t changed from yesterday, so he doesn’t pay too much attention to the interior. Instead, he glances promptly over the tables in a search of a lonely man, pocketing his phone as he waltzes between the guests. He throws a quick look to the waitress, who recognizes him right away and shoots him a courteous smile. He sends her one, too. If he plays it right, he might get a discount on the drinks he’ll presumably have to pay for anyway.
Having scanned the guests, he finds two men sitting by themselves. One is wearing a black suit, at which Jimin falters slightly, almost ready to turn around and never look back, while the other is seated with his back directed towards Jimin, so Jimin can’t be sure what he looks like, but his hair is brown, the kind that reminds you of dark chocolate, and the shirt clothing his torso a plain grey.
Jimin’s feet move on their own in the latter’s direction. Call him an optimist, but he doesn’t want to imagine another boring date that would not differ from all the other ones he already was on in the past.
Barely meters away from the man, Jimin realizes his hair falls in soft curls over his forehead and, although from the side, Jimin discerns right away the beauty of its features. Even looking down at his phone and wearing the most casual of a sweater, the man looks like a work of art, with the line of his lips and lashes grazing against the skin beneath his eyes.
“Taehyung?” Jimin can’t contain hope sneaking into his voice. Please, let it be Taehyung.
Please, please, please.
The man swivels towards Jimin, eyes wide open and lips curled into a broad smile, a smile Jimin didn’t have enough time to register appearing, and waves at the other in the gentlest way possible.
“Yes, yes, that’s me. Kim Taehyung.” Jimin freezes for a second, his body and heart growing silent altogether as he hears Taehyung’s voice. It’s warm and deep, just like honey and chocolate would be if they had a sound.
Jimin blinks, once, twice, and shakes his head slightly, chasing away the sudden paralysis washing over his senses. Taehyung is just a guy. A dude. The most beautiful one Jimin has ever seen, but a man all the same. He gulps and smiles at the other amiably, praising himself right after, because, based on Taehyung’s expression, he got away with his little panic incident.
Well done.
“Nice to meet you,” he beams, taking a seat in front of Taehyung. Only then does he notice that Taehyung already ordered warm chocolate for himself. Jimin arches his brows in surprise. “I hope I didn’t make you wait for too long.”
Taehyung snickers. “You’re fifteen minutes late and you know it.”
Jimin fights the initial bafflement at hearing Taehyung’s voice once again and answers, “How can you be so sure?”
“I saw you check the time before you went inside.” Taehyung motions towards the door and Jimin understands. He remains unbothered, even though his thoughts are wreaking havoc underneath his skull.
“I could have just received a message.” Jimin shrugs with an impish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He crosses his arms across his chest, his coat still on.
“But you didn’t,” is all Taehyung says. It prompts Jimin to unclothe himself. In the meantime, Taehyung carries on, “You owe me a coffee.”
Jimin’s eyes dart towards the man in front of him mechanically. Taehyung feels like a magnet drawing all of his attention in, and he can’t say he minds.
“You’ll get a cookie, too.” Jimin laughs, beckoning the waitress to come. Taehyung smiles and Jimin swears his boyish smile has its own gravity that plays with Jimin’s orbit in whichever way it likes.
“For what? I just called you out on something I assume you wanted not to reveal?”
Before Jimin is able to answer, the waitress takes their orders, Jimin going for a latte macchiato with some vanilla flavour and Taehyung for another hot chocolate with whipped cream on top. She eyes Taehyung up for a little bit too long for it to have not been on purpose and Jimin laughs inside at the sight. He’s not surprised. Everyone should see a face like Taehyung’s at least once in a lifetime.
The waitress leaves and Jimin’s eyes level on Taehyung on their own.
“We exchanged more words in five minutes than during all of the dates I was on combined. You deserve an award.”
Taehyung draws his brows together. “How many dates?”
“Huh?”
“How many dates were you on?”
Jimin cocks his head, confused, embarrassment washing over him, because how can he even remain honest when asked something like this? He tries to think of an adequate number, but after a while he gives up. He lost count a long time ago.
“Aish, why would you ask that?” Jimin huffs, shifting in his seat. He hopes that the uneasiness evident on his face will induce Taehyung to drop it, but the only reaction he receives are the same brown eyes peering right at him with an innocence Jimin can’t remember to have ever witnessed before, and a slight nod that, he assumes, is supposed to offer him encouragement. He gives in. “Too many, trust me.”
Taehyung hums, acknowledging the other’s words. His facial expressions don’t change like Jimin feared they would, and just that thought alone baffles him. Why does he care if Taehyung likes him? It’s just the first, and presumably last, date they’ll ever go on, so why the hell does it matter?
The waitress places their orders on the table and when she bends over, for a reason Jimin cannot think of, she smiles at Taehyung expectantly, as if she wanted the other to finally act. Jimin puckers his lips in annoyance, sporting the grimace even after the waitress is gone. Taehyung takes a sip from the cup in front of him, but even though he manages to cover his lips well enough, Jimin still notices that he’s smiling from the way his eyes disappear between two happy lines of skin. Jimin reciprocates the smile.
“It’s my first one.” Taehyung puts the cup back. Jimin tries not to focus too much on the way the other licks over his lips in order to get rid of the remaining whipped cream. He fails, but at least he tried. Except that he didn’t, but Taehyung doesn’t have to know that.
“Ever?”
“Sort of.” Taehyung shrugs. “Does it count if one of the people involved was in second grade and the other was his teacher? Wait, this sounds so wrong.”
Jimin tilts his head back as a laughter too helpless to contain builds up inside his throat and gains on volume after finally reaching his lips. His entire body is laughing with him. It slides down the chair, making him almost fall on the floor. However, just before it happens, his legs balk at the pressure, restoring his balance.
Jimin doesn’t see it, but Taehyung watches the spectacle Park Jimin is with the fondest of looks — looks Jimin was meant not to notice for the longest time.
“It does,” he finally manages to say. He wipes away the nonexistent tears just for the fun of it. “So, your first date was a late night study session with your teacher?”
Taehyung laughs, too. “You say it like it’s something bad.”
“It’s not bad. Tragic fits the situation better.”
“You’re a true villain.” Taehyung sighs, his hand reaching in defeat for the hot chocolate. It reminds Jimin to drink from his own cup.
“And you’re a baby,” he giggles, tasting the vanilla on his tongue.
“Don’t tease me too much.”
“Too late.” Jimin winks. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
For whatever reason, this seems to stir up Taehyung’s attention.
“What for?”
“Just wait, I’ll make sure to use it against you in the future.”
Jimin should have expected it, but when Taehyung’s eyes glint shamelessly, while his lips bend into a playful smirk, he’s still caught off guard. “Does it mean there will be a second date?”
“Oh... I…”
Jimin’s heart skips a beat and his eyes widen in surprise. He feels the “yes” burning on his tongue. He squirms under its heat, ready to let it emerge from in between his lips afraid of ending up incinerated.
“I’m messing with you,” Taehyung adds quickly, his voice a little bit deflated at Jimin’s reaction. “Relax, no pressure.
Jimin blinks, because he doesn’t understand anything anymore. This entire date is nothing like he expected it to be, but he’s not sure he minds. That’s what scares him the most.
“Actually, when’s your birthday? I’m not sure how to address you.”
“I’m a ninety-five liner,” Jimin answers, relieved at the change of topic.
“No way! Me too!” Taehyung exclaims loud enough for the couple occupying the table next to them to throw them agitated glances.
“Oh? That’s so dope! When exactly is your birthday?”
“Thirtieth of December.”
Jimin lifts his arms in triumph. “Then you’re still a baby.”
“ No ,” Taehyung whines, dragging out the vowels. “When's your birthday then?”
“In October,” Jimin announces proudly.
“That’s not fair.” Taehyung crosses his arms, throwing Jimin a resigned look.
“It’s just a birthday, relax.” Jimin beams, mimicking Taehyung’s voice.
Right in that second, the headache that stayed by Jimin’s side, as a solemn reminder of too many bottles of soju emptied the night before, strikes again and Jimin winces at the sudden pain.
“You okay?” He feels Taehyung’s fingers holding onto his arm. It feels nice. It feels warm.
“Just a headache,” he sighs.
Taehyung observes Jimin, his brows narrowed, as if surveying the other’s condition. Jimin gifts him a lopsided smile. “I’m fine.”
“Do you want some water?”
“No, it’s—” But before Jimin can say no, Taehyung has already motioned for the waitress to come with a peculiar urgency etched into his gestures. Not more than one minute later there’s a glass of water standing in front of Jimin, who has no idea how to react.
“Thanks,” he says eventually, the smile that washes over his face a little bit restrained, but grateful all the same.
“No problem.”
Jimin watches Taehyung take another sip of his hot chocolate, traces of it lingering on the man’s upper lip after he places the cup back on the table. All of a sudden there’s a scenario playing in Jimin’s head, where he lunges at Taehyung, licking his mouth clean with a kiss, and once he realizes how crazy it is to think such a thing, his cheeks heat up, flashing all shades of pink.
Taehyung throws him a curious look, completely unperturbed. Somehow, it makes everything worse.
“Have you ever watched Death Parade?” Taehyung asks suddenly, fingers playing with his ear.
“I wouldn’t trust someone who hasn’t,” Jimin answers, absolutely serious. It earns him a smile from Taehyung, the prettiest yet. It’s broad and somehow square, the kind of smile a teenager would sport whenever he got away with something. Even though Jimin has only just met Taehyung, he cannot envision any other smile that would compliment the man’s personality any better.
“Today marks the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
And, Taehyung was right. That day was a start, but neither of them knew that it wasn’t friendship that smouldered in the fire of their hearts, but love. Maybe it’s good that they didn’t know.
Jimin wouldn’t stay if he did.