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It seems like every student in the area has the same idea to spend their Friday night: with chicken and beer. Needless to say, the joint right across their campus is packed with tired students wanting to let themselves loose after five long days of modern-day torture.
Jimin had come in a little late, running straight from the library to borrow the book he needs for his paper. By the time he gets there, there are no more seats left to spare, every table already at full capacity. Even the waiting line for delivery has reached the front door. Lucky for him, he’d come at Kim Taehyung’s invitation.
“Chim!” someone shouts over the hubbub. “Over here!” Taehyung waves at him with an enthusiasm that attracts the other patrons’ attentions.
There it is, Jimin smiles, making his way through the crowd with a half-smug half-apologetic look on his face, his VIP pass.
When he first came here, Jimin had thought Taehyung’s parents own the place. Turns out the owners just love having him around. Their good luck charm, as they like to call him, always bringing in customers like it’s game night.
“Sit here,” Taehyung points at the strip of bench he’d saved for Jimin. Jimin was worried his ass wouldn’t fit there, but then the rest of the table starts scooting over to make more space; Jimin nods and offers them a smile to show his gratitude.
Taehyung’s table consists of ten people, each with their own reason why they ended up here out of all places. Jimin recognizes some of them as Taehyung’s classmates, a couple from his French Club, and some look familiar but don’t quite ring a bell. He doesn’t think he’ll ever cease to be amazed by his best friend’s ability to bring people together.
The chatter picks up again where it was left off when Jimin arrived. There are at least three different conversations going on, and Jimin isn’t sure which one to join yet, so he grabs a clean plate and starts piling chicken pieces onto it.
“Here, I ordered for you,” Taehyung slides a glass of beer over to him. Jimin’s smile instantly blooms.
“Thanks, Taetae.” Jimin immediately chugs it down. “God, I needed this.”
Taehyung chuckles, propping his chin on his hand. “Rough week?”
Jimin groans. “You have no idea.”
Despite the invite, Taehyung never pressures him into blending in with the rest of his mismatched crowd. Sometimes Jimin would jump in when he finds the topic interesting. Other times he’d just sit on the sidelines, eating his fried chicken quietly. He just likes the energy, of being surrounded by people, by life.
Tonight is one of his quiet nights. He was stripping the skin off of his fourth piece, listening to the crowd but not really, when his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket and Jetlag by Simple Plan started playing in full volume.
The whole table falls silent, every head turned towards the source of the song.
“Whoops,” Jimin smiles apologetically, taking off his plastic glove and scrambling to turn his alarm off. He pops the entire chicken skin into his mouth and transfers the rest to Taehyung’s plate. “Gotta run. See you tomorrow?” Taehyung nods and waves him goodbye.
“Where is he going?” one of the guys from Taehyung’s class asks once Jimin is out of earshot.
Taehyung takes a big bite of the chicken thigh Jimin left like nothing happened. “Breakfast.”
Jimin’s alarm is always set at eight p.m. KST, which gives him half an hour before Yoongi would wake up and start his day. Dashing across the hallway, Jimin almost tripped over nothing twice before finally reaching his room.
He kicks his shoes off haphazardly at the entrance, skidding to the kitchen with the help of his socks and fills up the kettle to boil some water. Eight more minutes. Just enough time to steep his tea while he takes a quick shower and gets changed into his pajamas.
At eight thirty sharp, Jimin’s phone rings again, this time from an incoming call. He throws himself onto the bed, his smile blooming wide from ear to ear. His heart swells just at the sight of his boyfriend’s face on his screen, his hair sticking out to every direction, his cheeks tinted red and still a little puffy.
Soft. Yoongi looks awfully soft.
“Morning, hyung,” Jimin chirps as if the sun had just risen when it’s in fact pitch dark outside.
Yoongi yawns, hand slipping underneath his shirt to rub his tummy. “Morning.” His voice is still scratchy from sleep, and Jimin absolutely loves it. “How was your day, Angel?”
“Same old. One second.” Jimin places his phone on the stand and gets up to grab his tea. “So yeah, it was just… a whole day of class. And like, four pieces of fried chicken,” he says, waving his free hand in the air. “What you up to today?”
“Gonna head to the studio in a bit,” Yoongi stretches his neck and gets up from the bed. “Got a meeting with this artist at like… ten thirty? They want us to help produce their new album.”
Yoongi leans his phone against the toaster and talks about the project he’s currently working on as he brews his morning coffee. From his screen, Jimin can only see Yoongi from his waist up to his neck, but he can’t really complain knowing how cramped the space is. It’s still a nice view anyway.
“Hyung, have you been working out again?” Jimin blurts out, causing Yoongi to stop in the middle of his sentence.
“Huh?”
“Your shirt,” Jimin points out. “It seems like it’s… not as loose as it used to be. Am I imagining things? I don’t know.”
Yoongi chuckles, lowering the kettle and places it on the counter. “No, no, you’re right. Been going to the gym these past few weeks to blow off some steam. Joon’s been helping with my regimen.” He brings his cup and phone over to the living area and makes himself comfortable on the couch.
“Does that mean I’m gonna see Captain Korea next time you come home?” Jimin teases. It’s been a running joke between them, ever since Yoongi picked up the weights a few years ago.
Yoongi snorts. “Please, I’m not lifting even half of my bodyweight. I’ll probably be less squishy at most.”
Jimin pouts. “But I love your squish.”
Yoongi shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “You can always squeeze my ass.”
They nurse their drinks while listening to the news, exchanging a few words every now and then. There’s only so much they can talk about when they’ve been dating for years, but it doesn’t make their calls any less enjoyable. It’s the company they crave, each other’s presence as they simultaneously start and end their day.
Once their glasses are empty, they move it to the bathroom to brush their teeth and wash their faces. Their routine ends with Jimin turning off his lights and tucking himself into bed, snug under the blanket.
“Sleep tight, Angel,” Yoongi brings his phone closer, filling the screen with his face, making Jimin giggle. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Jimin boops Yoongi’s nose on the screen. “Love you so much. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, mkay?”
Jimin’s eyes flutter close almost immediately, fatigue getting the better of him, but Yoongi waits until the younger’s breathing evens out to hang up, a sure tell that he’s asleep. At Jimin’s sleeping face, he smiles. “See you real soon, Angel.”
It’s true that long-distance relationships are double the work and half the return. It’s full of nights of longing and silent cries, and days of looking up at the sky, wondering if the other person, too, looks up at the sky and thinks of you.
Which was why Jimin had his doubts at first, especially with his friends feeding him stories of failed attempts and laying out everything that could possibly go wrong.
It’s certainly not favorable, but the only other option was to break up, and to Jimin, that means there is no other option. He would rather learn how to navigate between two different time zones than to break up with Yoongi, and that’s exactly what he did.
The first few weeks was somewhat bearable. Jimin tricked himself into thinking it’s exam week and spent most of his time in the library if not out with Taehyung, who would invite him to every event to keep him occupied. They had yet to find a rhythm that works, so Yoongi would call every time he got the chance, making the most out of his free time. Jimin really thought they could make it work, that they’d be an outlier to the statistics.
But it wasn’t long until it became exhausting.
Jimin was burning the candle at both ends and it was getting harder and harder for Yoongi to fit a phone call in between work. Whatever it was they were doing, they knew it wasn’t sustainable.
By month three, Jimin felt like he couldn’t do it anymore.
“I miss you,” he whined over the phone one night, tears leaking onto his pillow. There’s an itch he cannot scratch, one that could only be relieved by Yoongi’s embrace. “I miss you like mad.”
“I know, Angel,” Yoongi tried to console him, but there’s only so much he could do through the screen. “I’m sorry things have to be this way.” It was evident in Yoongi’s eyes, the hint of guilt and frustration. “If I could, I’d run to you right now. I miss you so, so bad.”
Jimin knew. Yoongi’s yearning, he’d felt it, too. But the distance between them wasn’t one that can be bridged with words. Two hearts could yearn all they want, but at the end of the day, it wouldn’t lessen the miles between them.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Jimin said in a whisper, almost to himself. He’s just so tired. He craved Yoongi’s warmth, his soothing presence, his gentle touches. He needed something to get him by.
Yoongi gulped. A moment of silence preceded his words: “Are you saying you want to break up?”
Jimin’s eyes widened in horror. “No!” He wiped off his tears with the back of his hand and took a deep breath. “I just want you to come home.”
Yoongi sighed in relief. “And I will, Angel. In Summer, remember?”
“I mean for good.”
In hindsight, it was probably the pent-up frustration talking. Jimin would never make Yoongi choose between music and him, but at that very moment, he thinks he’d meant it. He’d meant every word.
“Jimin-ah…” Yoongi’s voice sent a shiver down Jimin’s spine. His boyfriend rarely called him by his given name if ever. It sounded like the beginning of his father’s scolding. “I thought we’ve talked about this before. If you want to stay together—”
“I don’t want to break up,” Jimin cut him off, “I know you warned me about this, and I really thought I could endure it, but right now, I don’t want to be so far away from you anymore.”
Silence. The last word hung in the air, repeating itself to Jimin. The look in Yoongi’s face was indecipherable; it made Jimin a little nervous.
“Hyung…?”
“I think…” Yoongi scratches the back of his head, blinking rapidly. “I think I need some time to think.”
The calls stopped coming from thereon, and if Jimin thought he had been suffering before, it was nothing compared to not being able to hear Yoongi’s voice for three days straight. Looking back, maybe it was the wakeup call he needed, because by the time Yoongi finally, finally called him again, Jimin was ready to do anything to keep him around. It made him realize that having Yoongi all the way across the globe was still better than not having him at all.
“Hey, sorry I was—”
“Hyung, I’m sorry,” Jimin practically wept. “That was so selfish of me. I just… I miss you lots.”
Yoongi’s gaze softened. “I know, Angel. It’s okay, I just needed some time to… sort some things out. Have you been eating well?”
Jimin nodded out of reflex with a pout, but then remembered he hadn’t had anything since last night. “Actually… no. Didn’t really feel like eating these past few days, so…”
“We’re good, okay,” Yoongi tried to reassure him, knowing it was his anxiety that killed his appetite. “Nothing to worry about. Except for your next meal; what are you gonna have?”
And just like that, Yoongi managed to segue smoothly to their usual conversation, straightening every tangled knot between them without Jimin even noticing. They made an agreement to call each other twice a day when they wake up so they wouldn’t have to stand by their phones in anticipation in case of a sudden call during the day. That alone made things so much easier; Jimin wondered why they hadn’t done it sooner.
That Summer, Yoongi came to visit and stayed for two weeks as promised. It felt like hitting a reset button. They made the most out of their time, cuddling in Jimin’s apartment when they’re not too busy crossing off things on Jimin’s bucket list that he’d been filling while Yoongi was away.
For two weeks, things felt okay again, normal. But the thing about time, is that it passes, and before either of them was ready, Yoongi had to go back to New York in less than ten hours.
Saying goodbye, no matter how many times he’s done it before, will never get easier.
“We’ll call, okay?” Yoongi pressed a kiss to Jimin’s forehead. “We’ll call like we always do.”
Jimin tightened his arms around his boyfriend, refusing to let go. He wanted to commit Yoongi’s every curve to memory, wanted to feel him even when he’s no longer there. He wanted this to last. “I’m gonna miss you still.”
Another kiss. “And I, you. I’ll be back next Summer, Angel. Don’t you worry.”
The next Summer was far too long for a man in love, Jimin wanted to argue, but at least it was a promise he could hold on to.
One last kiss and off Yoongi went, through the gate and into the distance. Jimin watched from where he stood frozen in place as Yoongi’s broad back grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely.
Some people are worth waiting one trip around the Sun for.
Yoongi hasn’t been picking up his calls.
It worries Jimin because the last time he went AWOL for three days, Jimin got a call from his co-worker Namjoon that he’d been sent to the ER. Dehydration and exhaustion, they said. Jimin would’ve booked a ticket to New York right that instant if Taehyung hadn’t reminded him that he had a test the day after tomorrow.
Jimin doesn’t have a test the day after tomorrow.
He might just book a ticket now.
“Or, you should just try, I don’t know, calling his friend?” Taehyung suggests, pushing the sliced cucumbers to the far end of his plate. “What’s his name, Namjoon?”
So Jimin does exactly that—God, what would he do without Taehyung?—and unlike his possibly dead and/or missing boyfriend, Namjoon picks up after the fourth ring.
“Jimin-ah?”
“Hey, uh, sorry to bother you so late at night.”
Namjoon chuckles. “I was just working on something, actually. What’s up?”
“Have you seen Yoongi hyung recently? Like, sometime in the last twenty four hours maybe?”
“Why? Is he not picking up your calls?”
Jimin makes a sour face. “It’s been four days now.”
A pause. “That’s weird. I just saw him in the studio this afternoon. Granted, he looked like shit, but…”
“He’s alive.”
“Yeah. Been checking in on him making sure he’s not passed out on the floor since… you know.”
Jimin knows. “Alright then, thanks, hyung.” Even though Namjoon can’t see him through the phone, he smiles anyway.
“He might just be really busy,” Namjoon explains, an attempt to make Jimin feel better. “He’s working on something right now so… yeah. Do you want me to tell him to check his phone?”
Jimin was about to say yes when an ugly thought occurred to him: maybe Yoongi just doesn’t want to be bothered. Maybe Yoongi just isn’t feeling like talking to him at all. “No, it’s fine,” he eventually says. “He’ll pick it up when he wants to.”
If Namjoon noticed the slight change of tone in Jimin’s voice, he is decent enough not to bring it up. Instead he tells Jimin not to worry, that he’ll make sure Yoongi’s hydrated and well-rested. Jimin thanks him once again before hanging up.
“Well?” Taehyung raises his eyebrows.
“He’s working.” Jimin locks his phone and puts it away. “Probably in the zone, I don’t know. Namjoon hyung said he’ll be keeping an eye on him.”
“See, nothing to worry about.” Taehyung pops a chicken into his mouth. Meanwhile, Jimin has lost all of his appetite.
“Yeah,” he stares off into the distance, “nothing to worry about.”
Jimin can’t shrug it off. Minutes go by at a snail’s pace, and he can’t stop glancing at his phone, hoping every time the screen lights up that it’d be Yoongi—it never is.
The longer he goes without any news from his boyfriend, the deeper his thought spirals, and the deeper he goes, the darker it gets. In the far end of his head, a voice is telling him that Yoongi’s avoiding him on purpose. Maybe it was something he did, or maybe Yoongi had simply been struck with the realization that this isn’t going to work. It’s too much effort and not nearly enough gratification.
Anxiety washes over Jimin. Yoongi is supposed to fly back to Korea for his annual visit next week, but Jimin hasn’t heard a peep about it, and he wonders if Yoongi even remembers.
He wonders if Yoongi is coming back at all.
No, Jimin quickly shakes the thought off of his head. Yoongi will come back no matter what, it’s a promise. And if he doesn’t— Well, Jimin doesn’t want to entertain that possibility just yet.
It was three in the morning when Yoongi finally calls. Jimin wakes up in a daze, delirious in the dark. It takes a while before he realizes his phone is actually ringing and he’s not, in fact, dreaming.
Jimin didn’t bother looking at the caller ID, pressing the green button right away. Instead of a hello, he grunts into the receiver, letting the other person know he’s listening.
“Angel?”
Jimin’s ears perk up. “Hyung?”
“Are you asleep? Shit, what time is it?”
“’S okay,” Jimin yawns. “What’s up? Where have you been?”
“I… Oh shit, it’s three, isn’t it? Forget it, go back to sleep. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Hyung,” Jimin whines. “If I have to wait another five hours to hear from you, I’m actually gonna throw a fit.”
Silence. “Okay.” Yoongi gulps. “Okay, hold on, I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
Jimin drifts in and out of consciousness as Yoongi tells him how swamped he had been with work that he didn’t have the time to go through his messages and speaking of time, he had completely lost track of it. “I honestly couldn’t even tell if it was night or day. There’s this thing I’ve been working on and… I didn’t want to tell you unless I’m a hundred percent certain it’s happening but…” Yoongi takes a deep breath to brace himself. Even through the line, Jimin can tell he has a wide smile on his face right now. “It’s happening. I’m moving back to Korea.”
Jimin’s eyes pop open. “Wait, what? Hold on, I think I heard you wrong.”
Yoongi lets out a breathy chuckle. “You heard me right, Angel. I’m really coming home, for good.”
“You’re quitting?”
“No, no,” Yoongi quickly elaborates, “the company’s extending to South Korea and I asked if I could join the team over there. It was… a lot of preparation and paperwork but… I just got out from the last meeting and it’s finalized. I can start packing my bags now.”
Jimin sits there in the dark, trying to process everything. “So you’re not… breaking up with me…?”
“What? No— Where did you get that idea?”
“I don’t know, you went MIA for days, not even a single text. I’d think you were dead in a ditch if it weren’t for Namjoon hyung,” Jimin whines, rubbing his eye. At such an early hour of the day, he can’t mask his overflowing emotions. “And then I found out you’re alive and well, and it made me feel even worse, because then what other excuse do you have? I thought you finally got sick of me or something.”
For a while, the only sound Jimin can hear is of his own heartbeat and Yoongi’s breathing, almost in sync. And then finally, Yoongi mutters a low, “I’m sorry. I… I really wasn’t thinking. Didn’t want to give you false hope because I wasn’t sure if I’d get in yet, and I guess I just got too excited… but you’re right. You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone off the grid like that.”
“You really shouldn’t have.”
“I— I’ll make it up, okay? I’ll be home soon and I’ll make it all up to you,” Yoongi says, his voice so gentle it almost feels like he’s holding Jimin’s hand in his. It’s impossible for Jimin to stay mad for long.
“Okay,” Jimin gives in. “Fine, but first, since you’ve woken me up at such an ungodly hour—”
Yoongi is already humming the tune of Little Star before Jimin could finish his sentence, knowing full well his boyfriend was going to ask for a lullaby to put him back to sleep. Satisfied, Jimin pulls his blanket over his head and places his phone right next to his pillow, a smile plastered on his face as he slips into silent slumber.
Little star, tonight, I will protect you all night.
Thirty four minutes.
Yoongi’s plane will land in exactly thirty four minutes.
Jimin’s stomach churns the whole bus ride to the airport, his toes cold in the middle of Summer. It feels exactly like the night before a field trip. Suddenly his skin feels all too tight, his body too small to contain the excitement bubbling inside him.
It’s the third time Jimin will be picking Yoongi up from the airport, but this one’s different. This time, they won’t be coming back here in two weeks. They won’t be saying goodbye fifty different times until their ears wear off. They will no longer race with the sun and fear a new day coming because now, they have all the time in the world.
The bus comes to a halt. Five minutes left. Jimin alights and strides towards the arrival gate. It takes every ounce of his self-control not to make a run for it. He tells himself it’ll take a while for Yoongi to go through customs and get his luggage, there’s no point in rushing there.
When a group of passengers shuffle out of the gate, Jimin’s heart starts thumping in his throat, his skin tingling with anticipation. His eyes begin scanning for a familiar face in the crowd, but Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.
Still waiting for your luggage? Jimin sends a text. His eyes flick back and forth between his phone screen and the stream of people, but it isn’t long until he grows dizzy from the hectic movements, so he turns his attention to the ground.
Yoongi’s reply comes a few minutes later. Look up, Angel.
Among the sea of people, one person stands still, phone on one hand and a luggage almost half his height on another. There’s still a good few meters between them, but when their eyes meet, it feels like the whole world holds its breath along with them.
Jimin’s vision blurs with tears, his chest almost bursting at the seams. Now that the wait is over, it doesn’t seem to matter anymore. So what if they’d spent three years out of each other’s reach? They have a whole lifetime to make up for the lost time.
Lips trembling, Jimin launches himself into Yoongi’s arms, almost knocking the elder off his feet. Skin on skin, a familiar warmth on his fingertips. Yoongi smells of his cologne and a fourteen hour trip. With his hands slung around Yoongi’s shoulder, Jimin presses their bodies impossibly close against each other’s, not letting even a little gust of air to pass between them. He wants to squeal, wants to pepper Yoongi’s face with kisses, wants everyone to know how long he’s been waiting for this.
“Hey there, Angel.” Yoongi smiles. “Miss me?” he asks as if it’s not obvious enough.
Jimin whimpers into the crook of Yoongi’s neck. “You have no idea.” Yoongi doesn’t have a clue how many nights Jimin had dreamed about holding him like this, how many nights Jimin had cried himself to sleep because the other side of the bed is cold and empty and all he had was a picture of Yoongi between his fingers.
Yoongi chuckles, tightening his arms around Jimin’s waist. “Missed you too.” He inhales a lungful. “Missed this, god.” Yoongi isn’t the type to say much, but Jimin can tell from the way his lips are trembling that he, too, had gone through his fair share of lonely nights. Distance had really done them dirty.
Neither of them wants to let go first, as if afraid the other might disappear if they do. They have no idea how much time has passed but eventually the crowd thins out, and Yoongi’s legs feel like giving up, and they reluctantly tear themselves off of each other.
“I have so much to tell you,” Yoongi says, holding Jimin’s eyes in a soft gaze. “But first, let’s go home, yeah?”
The train ride back to Seoul is filled with silence. Words are for those who cannot convey their feelings through touch, and right now, with Jimin’s head on Yoongi’s shoulder and their fingers intertwined under Yoongi’s jacket, they don’t need any. When the train slows down and the announcement sounds, Jimin tilts his head up and looks for Yoongi's eyes. There’s only one thing left to say.
"Hyung."
"Hm?"
Jimin smiles. “Welcome home.”