Archive of Our Own

It never occurred to Park Jimin that heartbreaks could be so painful.

He was seventeen and naïve, baby fat still clinging to his cheeks and pitch black hair falling flat on his forehead. He was seventeen, naïve and so, so in love.

His best friend wasn't naïve at all.

Jeon Jungkook was a couple of years younger than him, smart and confident, all jokes and stupid pranks. And as far as Jimin could remember, he had always been there - in his oldest and most blurred memories. Jungkook had always been there, all jokes, stupid pranks and bad, bad ideas.

Back when they were only five, Jimin broke his left arm after Jungkook had dared him to climb on the highest tree of the neighborhood park.

Seven years later, Jimin's parents received a phone call by a furious teacher who had caught their “maybe-not-so-naïve son” smearing superglue on his chair just before the start of the class. Jimin was lectured and grounded, but never once mentioned that both the glue and the idea belonged to Jeon Jungkook.

Jimin indeed was naïve.

He still was, even in the middle of his teenage years, when a simple request slipped past his best friend's lips – “Why don't we try to kiss?” - and Jimin's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Now, Jimin was innocent and all, but he was already sixteen and he definitely knew a thing or two about kissing – he had never tried to hide the fact that he liked watching sappy American comedies during weekends.

First of all, when it comes to straight people – which was their case, wasn't it? – then it's supposed to happen between a male and a female. Second, it's clearly not supposed to happen between best friends, especially childhood friends – that only leads to messy plots and broken friendships, Jimin has learned.

“Why should we?” He carefully asked, dark eyebrows almost meeting in the frown. Jungkook only shrugged, looking half bored and half amused. “Aren't you curious? You've never kissed before, neither have I. What if you turn seventeen and you'll still be a lip virgin?”

Jimin didn't see all the fuss over being seventeen and a lip virgin, but he still hesitated. “Is this okay, though? We're both males...”

Jungkook shrugged again, this time looking almost impatient. “What's the matter with that? My brother and that Kim Seokjin guy do that all the time and they seem to be quite happy about it.”

“But Namjoon hyung is-”

“Gay? Yes, he is, but he has also kissed some girls in the past and that doesn't make him any less gay, so kissing me once isn't definitely going to make you any less straight, if this is what you're worried about.”

Jungkook was good with words and never talked like he was his real age – he was just a fourteen-year-old middle schooler who actually knew nothing about life – and that was enough to catch and control Jimin's pure and childish mind. Again, always.

|||

Nine months later Jimin turned seventeen and he sure wasn't a lip virgin anymore, but he was also a little less straight than before. Only that it wasn't just a little.

Soon Jungkook entered Jimin's high school and Jimin introduced him to his friends. They never kissed again, but ever since that lazy winter afternoon in Jimin's bedroom, the poor boy's heart had never calmed down. It kind of made him feel sick now, being around Jungkook: like a fever, all hotness and sweating palms, all shivers sliding down his spine whenever their eyes locked. Whenever their skin barely touched. He didn't like it, but he did at the same time. And so it started, his frightening but also electrifying first love.

It wasn't long before Jungkook found himself a boyfriend, the lucky guy being one of said friends Jimin had kindly and generously decided to share with him, only to be confronted with a timid “hey, I think I'm in love with Taehyung hyung” a few months later. From that moment on, the once confident and premature Jeon Jungkook turned into a bubbly, shy and perpetually flushed ball of sentimentalism and stolen gazes.

And unlike Jimin, he was so painfully obvious the whole school found out in a matter of days, so nobody was really surprised when a morning Taehyung, being the straightforward and unpredictable teenager he was, grabbed Jungkook's hand without saying a word and never let it go again.

Watching from afar, Jimin held his breath and never let it go again.

|||

Summer came and a warm, delicate wind started blowing through Jimin's soft hair. His name was Min Yoongi, nineteen years-old, and he was as pale as milk even in late June.

Now, Jimin wasn't the worst student in the class, but he was only three people away from the very last place and even though he didn't really care about his school grades as long as he was managing to get by, his mother on the contrary did. So she found him a tutor.

Yoongi disliked many things – and sure complained a lot – but it took Jimin only three or four lessons to find out what the elder liked the most: 1) sleeping, 2) music, 3) sliding his long, thin fingers through Jimin's dark locks with the purpose of messing them up, an amused smirk playing on his small pink lips. Whether he got a question wrong or not, Jimin always ended up with a bird's nest atop his head.

He never protested, though, he didn't even touch his hair despite it sticking out in all directions. It was always Yoongi, eventually, the one flattening it out of pity after a minute or so, eyebrows scrunched together and mouth pressed into a thin line – “What? You looked like an idiot”.

That gradually led to Yoongi absently brushing Jimin's hair while waiting for him to solve a particularly long math problem, and soon it became part of the routine, of their routine. Part of hot mid July afternoons splayed out on Jimin's bedroom floor, a carpet of books and sheets full of numbers and scribbles beneath them.

Jungkook's name never once left Jimin's lips, but Yoongi learnt about him anyway.

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It had been some months now since Jungkook and Taehyung had started dating, but Jimin still couldn't stand being around them when they were together, all sweet and madly, madly in love. It made Jimin's heart clench, the ache in his chest almost unbearable, the jealousy corrupting his mind with awful, distressed thoughts. He hated that suffocating feeling and he hated himself for thinking bad of people he loved, that's why at the beginning of summer he had slowly started pushing himself away from Jungkook for the first time in fifteen years.

Jungkook hadn't noticed it at first, eyes too full of handsome Kim Taehyung to even spare a glance to his most precious friend slipping away from his fingers. Jimin had hated him for that – and maybe had cried himself to sleep for a week or so – but he also hadn't been very surprised.

He was, though, when a steamy August morning the doorbell rang and Jimin found himself in front of Jungkook again.

Pain. And Taehyung wasn't even there.

“Hi, Kookie! What's bringing you here?”

He tried his best to sound like his usual cheerful self, to smile like the other hadn't unconsciously broken his heart in a thousand pieces and Jimin hadn't avoided him like plague since then. Jungkook didn't answer him right away, instead he let his gaze fall behind his friend's shoulder, eyes probably lingering on the large sofa at the back of the room.

And there he was, the laziest man in the world, peacefully dozing off in a black tank top and loose basketball shorts, hand still tight around Jimin's phone where he had been trying to beat the younger's high score in Temple Run for the past hour, before the fatal combination of sleepiness and heat had knocked him out.

“Who's that?” Jungkook's eyes shifted back to Jimin, who had his glued to the floor.

“My tutor.” He muttered, completely missing the other's ironic expression in response. He heard it, though. “Doesn't look like one.” And Jimin couldn't argue that as he turned around and found himself barely managing to suppress a laugh as soon as he noticed that Yoongi's mouth had fallen open.

He looked like a tired bear and Jimin knew he had spent another night writing, composing, then deleting everything, angry and frustrated, only to restart all over again.

Yoongi never stopped, but sometimes he stayed. He stayed in Jimin's house more than in his own, from dawn till the darkest hour of the night, from the moment Jimin opened his eyes to the moment they fluttered shut.

Jimin resisted the urge to reach for the other's phone on the table and take a quick picture of the memorable moment – it was so hard to catch Yoongi making dumb faces and this could have been the perfect start of his revenge on the elder's precious photographic collection of Jimin's ugliest derp moments. Instead, he turned back to Jungkook and shrugged a little, intensely observing his own bare feet. “I know, but he doesn't need to. He's good at teaching.”

Jungkook stayed silent for a moment, then sighed. “Listen, Taehyung believes you hate him, hyung.” He started, voice deeper than the last time Jimin had heard it. He was changing. They were changing. Inexorably growing up, unexpectedly growing apart. “I told him he's wrong, but even I am not that sure about that anymore, to be honest.”

Jimin internally flinched at the name, and in a flash of guilt, anger and hurt mixed together he wondered when Taehyung hyung had become only Taehyung, whereas Jimin hyung had always remained Jimin hyung. “It's not like that at all.” And it really wasn't.

Jimin liked Taehyung, the weird and funny guy who, a couple of years before, had taken a seat next to him in Chemistry class, introducing himself with a blinding, innocent smile – “Hi, I'm Kim Taehyung, but you can call me Taetae! Can I touch your cheeks? They look sooo soft, like marshmallows!” – only to almost burn the whole building down a few minutes later. Jimin really, really liked Taehyung and also kind of missed having him around, all loud and happy, clinging to his arm and swinging their hands together like children do. Jimin just really, really disliked Taehyung near Jungkook.

Taehyung and Jungkook.

“Look, I'm sorry for not hanging out with you anymore and I'm sorry I didn't answer his texts, but I've been studying hard in the past few weeks and I really didn't have time for anything else.” And again he wasn't lying. He didn't need to. He had been busy replacing his thoughts about Jungkook (and his precious boyfriend) with math theorems and relevant historical events. He had been busy suppressing the desire of calling him on the spot only to hear his voice – and then maybe discover he was sleeping over at Taehyung's – with never-ending studying sessions.

He had been busy surviving his first love. First and one-sided love.

“You never cared about grades, what's changed now?”

Jimin shook his head, face dark. “I need to catch up, Kookie, I'm at the bottom of the class.”

Jungkook scoffed, looking almost irritated. “As far as I know, you always have been and you never cared about that.”

“Yes, but my parents do and I'm turning eighteen in a few months, it's about time I start to care too.” Jimin had long forgotten about smiling and also about keeping his eyes far away from Jungkook, so when he lifted his gaze and met the younger's upset face, he almost jumped in surprise.

“I see that the only thing you don't care about anymore is me.”

Jimin's heart sank.

And for the first time he felt selfish. So selfish he was almost disgusted by himself.

Jungkook left like that. And Jimin didn't try to stop him nor even looked at him, but those fast and mad steps on the sidewalk echoed in his head for a long, long time. There he stood, completely frozen, until the click of the door closing startled him and warm breath came to startle him even more, hitting the bare skin of his neck.

“Is that him?”

Yoongi's voice was low, rough with sleep, and Jimin felt trapped. “What are you talking about, hyung? He's just-”

“Him.”

Sometimes Jimin liked to forget that even if Yoongi was the laziest ass around, he was also quick and acute. Perspicacious to the point of being scary. And little did Jimin know that Yoongi had been silently watching, reading, sensing all along. “You're like an open book, to me.”

That was the day Jimin found out that 4) Min Yoongi liked to make him shiver.

And that 5) he was also a good listener.

|||

A week later Jimin texted short, but sincere apologies to Taehyung and it didn't take the other boy longer than ten seconds to write back:

17:21 taetae: Jiminnie!!! You're back!!! I missed you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ .

It made Jimin happy, but not for long.

|||

“You must be crazy.” Yoongi stared at Jimin like the other had just set fire to his beloved beanie collection: in pure horror.

“No, I'm not! Please, hyung, I've never asked you a favor before!” Jimin pouted and tried to make the cutest face and sounds he could manage, but the elder looked totally unimpressed as he judged Jimin harder than ever from behind his light brown fringe.

“I'm teaching your slow brain to be a little more cooperative, actually. Isn't that enough?”

Jimin almost screamed in exasperation. “You're being paid for that!”

“Exactly, for that, not for wiping your drool while you're staring at your lost love. I'm not going, Jiminnie.”

So, so stubborn.

“But I-”

“No.”

“Please-”

“No.”

“I can't do this alone.”

Yoongi snorted, grumbled and protested like the old grandpa he was, but eventually gave in with one last, pained “I know I'm going to regret this, you little shit”.

And Jimin was thankful, because he knew that Yoongi strongly disliked having to deal with people in general, but he especially hated being around “snotty brats who still don't know how to tie their shoelaces” – that's how he liked to address younger people, and Jimin wondered whether he was an exception to the rule or not.

Jimin was thankful, because maybe he could face Jeon Jungkook or Kim Taehyung, but he certainly couldn't face them together. Not alone.

Not without Yoongi.

|||

They all met at the nearby cafe on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

When Jimin spotted Jungkook's black and adorably ruffled hair from afar, he suddenly felt all the determination drain from his body, leaving him in a pure state of panic. His feet stopped, ready to take him back outside the cafe, but then warm fingers brushed against his own trembling ones and the next moment he was being dragged towards the table the pair was sitting at.

Jimin was still staring at Yoongi, genuinely surprised, when someone cleared their throat, “Hyung?”

He had almost forgotten.

Almost forgotten how beautiful Jungkook was.

How beautiful he and Taehyung looked together.

“Hi, Tae.” Jimin smiled, or at least tried, but that was enough for Taehyung to jump out of his seat and throw himself at Jimin, hugging the poor boy so tight he couldn't even breathe. Jimin could swear he had just felt his heart skip a beat – and maybe also a rib snap – and he squeezed Yoongi's hand a little tighter before setting it free.

“Hyuuuuung! You came!” The moment Taehyung started to sob while rubbing his cheek against Jimin's soft one, the latter finally understood the reason why Jungkook had fallen in love with him in the first place. And in that moment he felt so regretful and guilty towards Taehyung that he finally lifted his arms and hugged him back, whispering a tiny “I'm sorry, Tae” against the taller's shoulder.

It took Jungkook's sweet and patient coaxing abilities to pry the still sniffling Taehyung away from Jimin, and only then they all sat around the small coffee table. Jimin didn't honestly know what to think about Jungkook and Yoongi facing each other, especially when the younger was eyeing Yoongi a little too warily as the bored tutor was just yawning behind his hand, probably regretting his life decisions.

They ordered some drinks – Jimin took the liberty to order Yoongi a double shot espresso because he needed him to be awake in a matter of minutes – and chatted about unimportant stuff. It almost felt like a quiet and peaceful afternoon amongst friends (plus a sleepy old turtle), but as soon as Jimin's lips touched the edge of the cup, Jungkook decided to drop the bomb.

Such a good timing.

“So... You've been avoiding me for months now, hyung. I think you owe me an explanation.”

Jimin's hand froze in midair, a sigh trapped in his throat. “I don't think this is the right moment to-”

“I think it's perfect, instead.”

Jimin went silent.

“I actually wanted to ask you this when I dropped by last time, but...” Jungkook's eyes shifted briefly to Yoongi – who was too busy adding loads of sugar to his coffee to notice – and then settled back on Jimin. “... You weren't alone.”

“Neither I am now.” Jimin finally took a sip of his cappuccino. “And neither you are.”

There was an expression of authentic surprise stuck on Jungkook's attractive features. Jimin had never been the type to answer back, he had always been easy to bend and mold, easy to control, but things were different now.

Yoongi was indeed a good teacher.

“I can't wait anymore, hyung, and please don't start with the I-had-to-study bullshit because I know you.”

Jimin placed the cup back on the table and tried to hide his slightly trembling hands by clasping them together. He took a deep breath.

He was nervous, no, he was scared.

And he felt cornered.

Jungkook demanded an answer that Jimin couldn't possibly give him, and not because he didn't know what to say or how to say it, but simply because he wasn't ready to see their friendship come to an end yet.

“So?”

What do you want to know?

Do you remember that time you suggested to kiss and I didn't want to do it because it sounded weird and so, so wrong, but you insisted and convinced me by saying that it wasn't going to make me any less straight and in the end we really kissed? Well, that was the start of a living hell for me and I still need to thank you for that. Now you can slap me in the face.

No.

That was out of question, so he didn-

“Jimin found himself a boyfriend and didn't know how to come out to you.”

Three pairs of eyes as wide as saucers darted to Yoongi simultaneously and stared at him like he had just grown another head.

“What?”

“Who?!”

“Hyung.”

Yoongi was acting smooth and laid-back as always, like he hadn't just heard the warning in Jimin's usually soft and gentle voice. Like he hadn't just told everyone the biggest lie ever. “Also, this person seems to be terribly jealous and doesn't like Jimin to be around you all the time.”

“Hyung, what-”

“And who might this person be?” Jungkook looked dark, whereas Yoongi was almost beaming. He calmly shrugged, “me.”

6) Min Yoongi was a crazy bastard.

And now, Jimin could have denied. He could have snatched the elder's stupid SWAG beanie and torn it apart in a million pieces. He could have explained everyone that Min Yoongi had some serious issues with socialization and that they didn't have to listen to his senseless blabbering. He could have.

But he didn't.

His mouth felt dry as he fearfully scanned the scene before him: Jungkook was mute, almost pale, eyes still focused on Yoongi, whereas Taehyung...

“THIS IS AWESOME, HYUNG!!!” His loud voice startled half of the customers around them, but the disapproving glances he earned in return weren't going to stop his enthusiasm any time soon.

Jungkook finally started moving, but all he did was gasp like a fish out of water.

Yoongi smiled with badly-hidden proudness.

Jimin slammed his face right into the table.

|||

Jungkook refused to talk to Jimin for a while, but eventually KaTalked him a week after the catastrophic "incident" at the cafe.

 21:56 jungkookie:  I can't believe you've fallen for such a dickhead

Jimin couldn't believe he hadn't already strangled said dickhead with his own bare hands.

 21:57 jungkookie: but I stalked his Facebook and his favorite tv show is Breaking Bad so maybe I may reconsider the opinion I have of him.

Jimin found himself laughing heartily.

He knew a thing or two about Min Yoongi the Dickhead storming inside his house at freaking six in the morning, hair all sticking up and black circles around his bloodshot eyes after a sixteen-episode marathon – “PARK JIMIN WAKE UP IT FUCKING ENDED AND I NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT RIGHT NOW” – only to crash on Jimin's bed ten minutes later, sound asleep. The last season finale had such a deep impact on the poor thing.

 21:58 jungkookie: And even if he moves slower than a sloth and probably doesn't care about anything or anyone besides himself

A tiny sigh escaped Jimin's parted lips as he nodded. Once again, Jungkook had hit right in the spot.

 21:58 jungkookie: he looks at you like you're the only thing that matters.

Jimin almost dropped his phone to the ground.

|||

It never occurred to Park Jimin that heartbreaks could be so painful, but also that rejecting someone you care about could be just as painful.

The air was so hot that the park was quiet even at three in the afternoon.

It had taken Jimin a good hour of pleading and pouting and maybe even bribing to get Yoongi out of the house – Jimin's, of course – and the moment the older boy had set his foot outside, he had started complaining. As usual.

“I feel like my eyeballs are going to melt.”

They had found a lonely bench in the shade of a large tree that hopefully could prevent their heads from burning under the angry sunrays.

“I swear to God that at this rate I'm having a heat stroke and you better-”

Irritated, Jimin had efficiently shut him up by pulling Yoongi's head into his lap. “Just do what you're the best at: sleeping.”

After almost an hour, Yoongi was still – strangely – awake and Jimin couldn't focus on his book anymore because the other kept flickering his eyes from his phone screen to him and it was just too distracting – and too obvious to ignore.

“What.”

“What, what?”

Annoying.

“You've been staring since we got here, hyung. Do you need to tell me something that's not a complaint of any kind?”

“What? No. I don't know what you're talking about, are you hallucinating? Must be the heat...”

So, so annoying.

“Whatever.”

Thirty pages into the book and a couple of sighs later, Jimin had forgotten about the matter and had his hand on Yoongi's head, gently stroking his chestnut hair. It was so soft and so silky Jimin wondered if Yoongi had secretly used his conditioner when he had showered the night before. Could it be?

Jimin smiled at the silly thought because there was no way Yoongi could wash his hair with something that smelled of coconuts and pineapples and mangoes and who knows what else – “Park Jimin, you smell like a motherfucking glass of Piña Colada”, he had once commented with his nose all wrinkled, only to slap his own forehead with the palm of his hand the moment Jimin had innocently asked him what in the world a Piña Colada even was.

“Jimin.”

The sudden sound of the other's deep voice startled him to the point that he almost hurled the book across the park, “Mh? What is it?”

He stopped reading and waited, but no answer came to interrupt once again the absolute quietness that was surrounding them.

“Hyung?” Jimin lowered the book, a frown on his face that dissipated as soon as he noticed that Yoongi had his eyes closed, long eyelashes casting beautiful shadows on his pale cheekbones.

Was he sleeping?

“Hyung”, but this time around it wasn't nowhere near a question. “You're...”

Jimin felt his heartbeat speed up and run and run and run as it dawned on him that Yoongi had mumbled – softly, breathily whispered – his name in his sleep.

He leaned forward, as attracted by an invisible force too strong to be resisted, only to stop a few centimeters from Yoongi's peaceful sleeping face.

His nose acknowledged the scent before his brain could even detach itself from the curve of the other boy's pink, slightly parted lips.

Coconuts and pineapples and mangoes and who knows what else.

“Hyung.”

Did you use my conditioner?

“You can't, hyung...”

Are you dreaming of me?

“... You can't fall for me.”

7) Despite appearances, Min Yoongi was a light sleeper.

|||

When summer vacations came to an end, classes were back and so was Jimin by Jungkook's side.

They were a trio now, along with Taehyung. The typical one formed by the cute couple the whole school knows about and the pathetic third wheel everyone teases for being, well, a pathetic third wheel.

Jimin was okay with it, though. He was okay with Taehyung. He was okay with Taehyung near Jungkook. He was okay with Taehyung and Jungkook.

But he wasn't okay with his own heart speeding up whenever his phone went off and that stupid Kanye West song – someone had sneakily set as the ringtone one day Jimin had fallen asleep on some boring chemical equation – started filling the air.

He wasn't okay with his shoulders dropping with disappointment and his heart sinking to the pit of the stomach every time he checked the screen and guess what? It never, never flashed the only name Jimin was aching to see.

He wasn't okay with Min Yoongi breathing, living and existing far away from Park Jimin.

|||

“I feel bad, I'm the one to blame for this.” Hoseok adjusted himself on the couch, a whole tub of ice cream balanced on his knees. Jimin tried to reach for a spoonful, but Hoseok brutally slapped his hand away. Mean.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? You were clear the other day when I asked you if we could share the cake you had bought and you told me to fuck off.”

Jimin's eyes went dramatically big, “I never told you to fuck off, hyung!” He screamed, outraged.

Yes, he remembered he hadn't been exactly in the brightest of the moods that day – actually, he'd been sulking all day, locked in the darkness of his bedroom, thinking about horrible mistakes and cat-like eyes and paper-like skin. But even so, please hyung I just need to eat this alone until I finally feel full again was obviously not the same as a plain and blunt fuck off. He wasn't even the type to speak like that, to begin with.

Hoseok was such a drama queen, sometimes.

“Anyway, that's not what I was asking you... What do you feel bad about?”

Hoseok stopped licking the back of the spoon, “Ah, that.” He had this kind of knowing smile plastered on his ridiculous face that was making Jimin feel a little too nervous for his own liking.

Hoseok was the type of person to always, always smile, no matter what situation he was caught in, but that particular smile was different. Just negatively different.

“I feel bad because I was born first and took all of our parents' cleverness and height away, leaving you dumb, dense and short.” He lifted his free hand to compassionately pat Jimin's head a couple of times, “I'm sorry, little brother.”

Jimin was on the verge of smearing vanilla with chocolate chips ice cream all over Hoseok's irritating face.

“Hey, I'm being serious here.” He retorted, curling a little deeper into the soft cushions of the couch, a cute pout making his face look even more childish than it already was. “Is insulting me the only thing you can do now that you know the whole story? How nice of you, hyung.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, “Insulting you? There's a reason I'm telling you this, Jimin.” He dipped the spoon in the ice cream for the umpteenth time, then stuffed it into his mouth. “And thaft reafon is... Thaft you haf fucked eferything up.”

Jimin's upper lip curled in disgust at the mess his brother was. Gross.

“Yes, thank you, tell me something I don't know yet.”

“Thaft Min Yoonfgi guy profbably hafes you by now.”

“What?”

Hoseok finally removed the damn spoon from between his lips and this time he thankfully swallowed before opening that large mouth of his again. “I said that you're cute and that you can have the ice cream if you want.”

“No, hyung, you didn't.” Jimin wasn't amused at all. He normally appreciated his brother's playful side, but he really needed Hoseok to be serious right now. After all, there was no one else he could ask to. No one he trusted enough – excluding Jungkook. “Besides, I'm pretty sure I heard you say M-”

It died before even emerging from his throat, the name.

A few letters that had always easily – fluidly and almost sweetly, like hot chocolate – rolled out of his lips, now tasted heavy and forbidden on his tongue.

For real?

Was he really in the condition of not even daring to pronounce a name?

Jimin was stuck, heart full of emotions and mind full of thoughts, too many and too loud to be processed all at once.

Jimin was stuck and Hoseok noticed. Of course he did.

The older boy's face settled on a confused, slightly worried frown for a moment too short to be caught by Jimin's unfocused – and maybe blurred – eyes. And the following second it was already too late, because a smile full of big, straight teeth had blossomed on Hoseok's knowing, knowing face.

“What's the problem, Jimin? Shouldn't you be a little happier? The fact that you don't care anymore about Jungkook and that weird kid being together is actually great... I mean, it was about fucking time you stopped being so whipped about your taken best friend, but you've been moping around for almost month now, ever since...”

Hoseok went silent for a moment as to let Jimin complete the sentence on his own.

“Look, feeling guilty after rejecting someone, especially a friend, is just part of the human nature.” Hoseok's hand was on Jimin's back, patting it lightly. “You did it for the best, for yourself and for him, think about it.”

And Jimin was actually thinking about it.

But he didn't understand.

He didn't understand why those words had sounded so wrong the moment they had left his lips.

( “I'm sorry, hyung.

You know that I love Jungkook.” )

He didn't understand why the look of hurt on Yoongi's – pretty, pretty – face had twisted his insides and made him feel like someone had just stabbed his heart once, twice, a hundred times.

( “Yes, don't worry, I know.

I'll call you later, uh?” )

He didn't understand anything except for one thing: the reason why Yoongi didn't call him later that night.

Or the following one.

Jimin was thinking about it like he had been doing for the past whole month, but the more he did, the more he felt like he had gotten everything wrong.

Everything.

Like when you try to resolve a math problem and the final result is not what you've been expecting, so you check the calculations all over again.

You scan and rescan every single passage searching for the mistake, but no matter how many times or how hard you try, you just can't seem to find it.

And it's tiring and frustrating and you refuse to accept it, but you also don't know what to correct, how to correct.

How to repair.

How to find the path that leads to the right answer.

And at some point you just want to give up.

Jimin was thinking about it, but nothing was changing.

Hoseok sighed, “Don't worry about him too much, Jimin. He'll eventually move on and find a person who, unlike you, can return his feelings, even with that awful personality of his.”

Jimin couldn't bring himself to hide a grimace as those words pierced their way through his skull, sharp and terse as knives.

Something felt off in what his brother had just said.

So off Jimin felt a growl of protest travelling down from the back of his head.

So off he could feel nausea running up his chest and invading his mouth, tongue flinching at its revolting sourness.

It felt sick. He felt sick.

“Right?”

It was, wasn't it?

“Yes”, he forced himself to exhale, head low and lips tightly pressed together. “Yes, hyung. Thank you.”

The warm pressure on his back disappeared and then cold, wet plastic was being pushed between his hands. “It's okay, you can finish it, it'll make you feel better.”

Jimin was reluctant, but nonetheless grabbed the spoon and scooped up some green-coloured ice cream he soon discovered was mint. It tasted fresh and sweet, but also a bit salty.

It tasted like tears.

“Do you want me to feed you?”

Hoseok was such a drama queen, sometimes.

|||

Jimin missed Yoongi.

And there was no way he could deny it.

He missed those small, dark eyes that looked even smaller after the usual afternoon nap on Jimin's bed.

He missed that cute pink mouth, whose ends were slightly curved upwards and made Yoongi look like a pouty kitten even when he was upset or bored or pestering Jimin about the silliest things.

He missed that low voice slowly whispering – “Do you care about me? Because I'm starving and I really, really want a cup of noodles right now, but teaching you Physics is tiring as fuck so I can't get up. I need you.” – in his ear, making him gasp for air and maybe also tremble deep inside and maybe even feel his legs a bit weak when moving towards the kitchen.

He missed those thin, long fingers playing with his hair, ghostly white skin sliding through pitch black locks and pushing Jimin into a blissful state, eyelids closing and lips parting – “Yah, Park Jimin! Don't fall asleep on me, I'm the one who falls asleep on you, remember?”

He missed hot mid July afternoons splayed out on Jimin's bedroom floor, a carpet of books and sheets full of numbers and scribbles beneath them.

There was a time his friends asked him why he never – never – talked about his boyfriend and why his grades hadn't improved that much despite Yoongi daily tutoring him, and Jimin almost found himself at the point of spilling out all the truth – that Yoongi had amazingly deceived everyone just to make the younger boy look less pitiable for falling in love, of all people, with his own best friend, and that Jimin had let him do as he pleased, yes, because he had been totally scared (he still was) and because, honestly speaking, facing reality wasn't really his forte.

Yet again, revealing everything also meant risking to lose someone else in his already half empty life, that someone being Jeon Jungkook. As if he wanted to.

So all he offered as an answer was a short and barely audible “we broke up”, stop.

Just another lie – but not completely.

At the news, Taehyung almost broke down to tears, because apparently he really, really liked that strange tiny hyung who resembled a stray cat.

Jimin laughed.

How funny.

Yoongi sure was strange and tiny and resembled a stray cat and Jimin really, really liked him too, so he broke down to tears for the both of them, and from that moment on, neither of his friends dared to speak that person's name never again.

Nor Jimin ever told them that the reason why he still sucked at school was that, sadly, even a literature book or a math exercise reminded him of [insert name].

Nor he told them that he had changed his conditioner because its smell now made him feel sick.

That he had uninstalled Temple Run from his phone because every time he launched it, it reminded him that he had a high score to beat. A high score that he had not set.

That he had forbidden Hoseok to talk about Breaking Bad whenever he was around – because Jimin already knew the whole story despite not having watched a single episode.

That he had deleted that person's phone number despite every digit being branded in his mind.

Indeed, facing reality wasn't Jimin's forte.

|||

The day Jimin turned eighteen, he woke up to Yoongi's gorgeous smile shining brighter than the sun that was slowly, timidly climbing the sky out of the window.

The elder guy was nonchalantly settled at the foot of the bed and was staring at Jimin from beneath a pair of eyelids stubbornly fighting against drowsiness, with brown hair all tousled and lips swollen, like he had just woken up too.

He arched his eyebrows with evident amusement the moment Jimin, white like he had just seen a ghost, made a strangled noise with the back of his throat.

"It was about fucking time, Park Jimin", Yoongi groaned as he stretched his slender legs forwards, almost kicking the poor owner of the bed in the process. “I was considering of having my fist to accidentally meet your face, you're lucky you woke up.”

Low. Yoongi's voice was so low and beautiful and warm Jimin felt his insides vibrating into numbness, shivers shaking the flesh and making the hair on his nape stand.

"You were going to sleep through your eighteenth birthday, weren't you?"

Jimin felt his tongue moving before his mind could even connect back to reality. "It's more like something you'd do, hyung."

Yoongi's laugh sounded like heaven translated into music and Jimin melted like mint and tears ice cream forgotten on trembling knees.

"Yeah, it's definitely something I'd do."

Jimin woke up once again and this time around he was alone, the only company being the ghost of a dream too cruel to be called a dream, but too beautiful to be called a nightmare.

He skipped school and slept - cried - through his eighteenth birthday, because that was definitely something Yoongi would do.

Around seven in the evening he finally peeled himself off the bed and he didn't dare to look at his own reflection in the mirror as he quickly washed his face and changed into clean clothes that did not smell like his miserable self.

He then dragged his feet downstairs expecting Hoseok to raise his head from the couch and send him a look full of pity, his mother to nag at him for skipping school once again and his father, for all he cared, to just mumble a disinterested "let him be".

Surprisingly, he was instead greeted by darkness and silence. Odd.

It was almost dinnertime, wasn't it? Did they all decide to eat outside, leaving the youngest member of the family buried in his bed the day of his birthday?

Jimin felt like his life asked to be summarised under the title "you reap what you sow" - second title: "you never know the value of what you have until you lose it" - and nothing could be more accurate than it.

He sighed and dragged his feet towards the kitchen, chubby fingers blindly touching the wall until he managed to turn the lights on and-

And everyone was there – his parents, his brother, Jungkook, Taehyung and even Namjoon and his boyfriend Kim Seokjin – wishing him a happy birthday with stupid loud voices and stupid big smiles and stupid colourful hats.

And Jimin hated himself more than anything in the world as he let hopeful, hopeful eyes wander on their faces searching for the person he wanted to see the most, only to feel the bitter taste of disappointment in his mouth, because of course he wasn't there.

Of course.

"You look like shit."

Jimin quickly turned around with a rock concert playing in his chest, heartbeat so loud that he didn't even hear Hoseok and Taehyung whistling behind him like the idiots they were.

“How... Why.” He was shaking, and after all it was mid October and he was only wearing a stupid Pokémon shirt and a pair of worn-out sweatpants and Min Yoongi had never been just as stunning.

“Let's say that your brother called me this morning screaming something along the lines of you being depressed to the point of not getting out of bed on your birthday and calling upon my name in your sleep with tears streaming down your face, as he literally said.”

Jimin's jaw went slack, because yes, maybe he had been pathetic – he had to admit it – but definitely not that pathetic. “What- I wasn't- You see if I'm not going to kill him tonight.”

Yoongi laughed and adjusted the black beanie on his head. There was a simple word on the front, in white: chance. “Yeah, he was a bit dramatic, but you know... The same goes for you. Are you going to cry now, you dumbass?”

Jimin flushed.

Oh, if he didn't miss all of this.

“I- I'm not.” He mumbled, voice small and hands clutched tightly around the hem of the shirt, twisting it nervously in his fists. “It's just that... I'm sorry, hyung.”

And maybe it wasn't enough, because even when his heart had already moved on, his mind had been still stuck on Jungkook's existence, so stubborn and dull and slow to just let it go.

Jimin had been struggling with a problem whose solution had always been right there, in front of his blind eyes all the time, between sleepy yawns and blunt remarks, between pleasant silences and obvious glances, between childish whines because God, today it's so hot I'm going to die and long fingers playing with hair and brushing against naked skin, making it turn hotter than August air.

Jimin had been pressing the palms of his hands on his ears, when all he had to do instead was just listen and notice how his heart would start beating a little faster every time Yoongi flashed a gummy smile of his, every time Yoongi fell asleep on his shoulder, every time Yoongi simply took a breath.

Jimin had turned his back and made the both of them suffer, and now he didn't know how to make up for all of those mistakes, so he kept saying sorry.

I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I'm this dumb, but that's all Hoseok's fault.

And maybe it wasn't enough, but Yoongi was smiling wider than ever when he closed Jimin's lips between his index finger and thumb. “If you don't shut the fuck up, I'm going to kiss you in front of your family and then eat all the cake they bought for you.”

Jimin found out he didn't mind being kissed right there and then, but there was no way he was giving up on the cake.

|||

Jimin was eighteen and still painfully naïve when later that night Yoongi kissed him under the blankets.

Under a roof of softness, warm breaths and sheets that smelled of skin.

Jimin didn't feel electricity running wildly in his veins like the first time he had been kissed.

He didn't feel hormones madden, making his body temperature rise above average, making him feel hot and heavy and suffocated.

Jimin didn't feel anything but the world stop.

And stay still.

Still.

Still.

Like it was patiently waiting for something to happen.

Perhaps, people outside had stopped too, bodies petrified on the spot, limbs frozen in midair and mouths full of words cut in a half, stuck in the forced silence.

Perhaps, someone was thankful because they had just gained time. Time to think, time to cherish, time to let a kiss last longer and three whispered words sink in deeper and deeper and deeper.

I love you.

Life stayed motionless for a while.

And the moment Jimin finally released his breath, the world started spinning again.

Naturally, candidly.

Jimin was breathing again.

( Or maybe it didn't go exactly like this.

Maybe Yoongi added an embarrassed "little shit" just after his confession.

Maybe then he also pushed his face into the pillow to hide his red, red cheeks.

Maybe Jimin laughed at him, mind light and heart full to the point of explosion.

And maybe then he replied.

Another whisper under a roof of softness, warm breaths and sheets that smelled of the both of them. 

8) Yoongi was his. )