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It’s been a rather slow day at Yoongi’s office — of course, he’s only had his own practice for a few short years and it’s not the biggest building so he can’t take as many clients as a big vet clinics can, but even by his standards it feels rather slow.
Just after he’s finished eating his lunch the front door chimes and he can hear frantic words being spoken to his receptionist. With nothing to do and the knowledge that everyone else is still on lunch, he pops out from his tiny back office with an offer to help.
He wasn’t expecting to see Park Jimin standing there with his arms full of fluff, tear stains on familiar rosy cheeks.
“What’s going on?” He asks, and Jimin’s eyes dart up to him. Yoongi wonders if the younger even remembers him. It’s been — shit, it’s been twelve years by now since they last spoke.
Now isn’t the time to question it, though.
“Dr. Min,” his receptionist turns in his swivel chair to face him, “his dog was just attacked at the dog park down the road.”
“Bring him back,” Yoongi pushes open the door to the examination room, waving a hand for Jimin to follow — his receptionist, Jeongguk, doubles as a nurse, so he follows along too.
“His eye,” Jimin whimpers, gently setting the dog down on the table, “his eye is bleeding— is he going to lose his sight?”
“He may need to see a specialist, but I’ll take a look,” Yoongi isn’t sure if he should be speaking formally or not. The last time they were together, Jimin was calling him hyung. “Is he a German Shepherd?”
“Yeah — shepherd mixed with Rottweiler,” Jimin nods, eyes trained on his dog, “he’s only nine months old.”
Yoongi inspects the dog while he talks, “did you see what happened?”
“Some big fucking dog attacked him at the park — he didn’t even do anything, he just— he was just playing with the ball I brought,” Jimin’s crying again, he can hear it in his voice. He sounds just the same as he always did before, and it tugs hard at Yoongi’s heart.
“So he definitely got nicked here,” Yoongi points with a gloved hand to the corner of his eye, “but it doesn’t look like his actual eyeball has been hurt. So I don’t think he needs a specialist.” He scans the rest of the dog’s head, “what’s his name?”
“Hudu,” Jimin replies, making Yoongi smile.
“He doesn’t look like a walnut,” Yoongi jokes, noticing a rather deep cut along Hudu’s cheek, going down towards his neck, “little guy might need some stitches.”
“He was already named when I got him,” Jimin mutters, defending himself. “Can you do the stitches here?”
Jeongguk nods, “Dr. Min, do you want me to write up a prescription?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi nods, “just an antibacterial cream, I don’t think he needs anything more serious. I’ll give him a sedative to do the sutures, too.”
Jeongguk leaves out the same door they came through, and then it’s just the two of them — plus Hudu.
The younger slumps back into a chair while Yoongi wipes away the blood from the dog’s face with a wet wipe, making sure he’s not missed anything.
“He can walk, right?” Yoongi asks, looking over to Jimin, “you were carrying him—”
“I– I don’t think his legs got hurt, I just…” Jimin shrugs, and then his chin crumbles and he ducks his face down into his hands, “he’s my baby.”
“Of course,” Yoongi nods, gently petting the overall very happy looking dog while he pants and waits patiently. “I have a dog and a cat, so I get it. You’d do anything for him—”
“What are the odds I’d come here,” Jimin laughs into his hands, though when he looks up he’s still crying quite hard, “you were the closest place… I just drove, and—” he shrugs, blinking tears out of his eyes.
“I didn’t know if you remembered me,” Yoongi admits, distracting himself with the dog so he doesn’t have to make eye contact with Jimin.
“You were my first boyfriend,” he argues, voice soft — careful not to speak too loud when Jeongguk is just in the other room. “I spent two years with you. Of course I remember you.”
“Sorry,” Yoongi shrugs, grimacing, “just, it’s been so long.”
“I’m happy you’re doing what you love,” Jimin says then, waving a hand at the room as a whole, “this place — it’s what you always wanted, so. That’s really cool, hyung.”
Yoongi’s heart clenches, and he suddenly feels like he’s eighteen and breaking up with Jimin all over again, even though it was twelve years ago it feels like just yesterday.
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi repeats, though it holds more meaning now, “I’m really sorry about…”
“Leaving me?” Jimin finishes, and Yoongi winces. “It made sense at the time. I’m sure you’re very happy in your adult life.”
Yoongi is — he loves his job, and he owns a home, and he does have two very cute animals that he loves dearly. He just can’t find the right person, and a little part of his brain has told him over and over again it’s because he’s already found them, and he broke their heart when they were stupid kids.
“I guess,” Yoongi settles on, nodding, “how have you been?”
Jimin laughs, leaning back in his chair, “well, you’re looking at a twenty eight year old divorcee who is living in a shitty apartment because his ex husband tanked his credit and now— now I have a dog who is going to grow up to be like, massive, in a one bedroom apartment I rent by the month.”
Yoongi doesn’t stare, because staring is rude — but he feels horrible.
“I’m sorry,” he says for now the third time. “That really fucking sucks, Jimin–ah.”
Jimin huffs, nodding, “it does. But I’ll pull myself back up.”
“You’ve always been good at that,” Yoongi murmurs. He’d like to say more, but then Jeongguk is coming back inside and smiling politely at Jimin.
“Jimin–ssi, you can sit in the waiting room while we finish up in here.”
And Jimin stands up, quickly leaning over the table to press a kiss to the top of Hudu’s head, the puppy immediately trying to tip his head back to lick at Jimin’s face — he realizes he’s smiling like an idiot when Jimin is out the door and Jeongguk is looking at him like he’s an alien.
“What is up with the pretty blond?” He whispers, pulling on a pair of gloves, making eyes towards the door — as if he could be referring to anyone but Jimin as the pretty blond.
“It’s a long story,” Yoongi shakes his head, dismissive — he should know better, though. Jeongguk will never allow him to be dismissive, the nosy thing.
⇢
“You’re breaking up with me,” Jimin said.
“Yes,” Yoongi agreed, awkwardly sitting next to him.
“So,” Jimin began, the quiver in his voice like a dagger to Yoongi’s heart, “you don’t love me anymore?”
“I do,” Yoongi sighed, wanting desperately to reach out and hold Jimin’s hand. “But I’m leaving, and you still have school here. And then who knows where you’ll go to college, and if it’ll be near me at all.”
“Too bad there’s no technology to make long distance relationships easier nowadays,” Jimin replied, clearly very angry below the hurt, “wouldn’t want you to have to write me a fucking letter.”
“Jimin–ah,” Yoongi sighed, tentatively taking one of Jimin’s hands to hold between both of his, “I’m going to be busy with school, and I don’t want to give you less than — than anything, really. You deserve someone here, someone who can hold your hand and take you on dates. I’d be holding you back from the last years of high school when I can’t give you what you want—”
“Silly me, I guess, because I was under the impression that I wanted you,” Jimin pulled his hand out from Yoongi’s grasp, shaking his head, “you know– I gave you everything. I — I genuinely don’t — Yoongi, you can’t—”
“You’ll find someone else,” Yoongi whispered, twisting the knife in his own heart because he doesn’t want to imagine Jimin with anyone but him, just the thought makes him sick, but Jimin needs so much attention and he cannot provide him with it. He’d slowly grow to resent Yoongi for making him live without it. “You’re such a catch, Jimin–ah, you won’t have any problems finding a new– a new—”
“You can’t even fucking say it,” Jimin looked at him with such hurt, such betrayal, in his eyes, “you can’t even say the word out loud because you don’t want me to date anyone else, so what’s the point of doing this to me?”
“Baby—” Yoongi had to bite his lip, no longer allowed to say that to Jimin, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Well, hate to fucking break it to you, but you’re too late for that,” tears stained Jimin’s cheeks, and Yoongi had to look away, feeling the emotion begin to choke him as well. “You think you won’t regret it? That you’re going to go off to college and what? Fuck some random guys in your dorm room? Is that better than this? You’re ready to throw it all away for nothing?”
Yoongi shook his head — Jimin is still young, and one day he won’t look at it the same, but he’s young and in love and Yoongi just ripped out his heart and stepped on it. Of course he doesn’t think it’s fair.
“I love you,” he cried, chin crumbled, fat tears rolling down pink cheeks, “Yoongi– but I still love you.”
⇢
“I cannot believe he managed to find your vet clinic out of all the ones just in this area,” Jeongguk shakes his head, looking up at Yoongi from under his lashes, “you know that’s fate, right?”
“Try telling that to the guy who hates me,” Yoongi grumbles, shaking his head, “which I deserve, all things considered.”
“Sometimes fate is funny like that,” Jeongguk shrugs, “one time my cat got out when I was eight and my parents let me hold a whole funeral for her, because we all figured since we lived near a busy road that she got hit. Then like, two months later, she came back,” Jeongguk holds up a finger, as if to stop Yoongi from speaking when he wasn’t going to anyways, “and she was pregnant.”
“While I’m happy for your eight year old self,” Yoongi sighs, shaking his head, “this is very different.”
“Maybe, but one of the kittens in that litter, my parents let me keep and then she went out to get knocked up too—”
“Your family needs to spay your animals,” Yoongi interrupts.
“And now the cat I have to this day is the grandson of my family's once believed dead cat,” Jeongguk stresses this, like it has anything to do with Yoongi, “he wouldn’t have been born if his grandma didn’t run away and cause me all that trauma.”
“In this situation, am I the eight year old boy, or the cat?” Yoongi asks, though he’s paying more attention to the dog he’s stitching up than the conversation.
“Clearly Jimin is the traumatized child and you’re the cat who is coming back to his life to make up for the mistakes you made,” Jeongguk sighs, and Yoongi, too endeared by the younger, finds himself smiling.
Yoongi doesn’t respond, because he doesn’t have anything to say — he appreciates the effort, and he understands the connection, but children and animals are quite incomparable to teenage heartbreak that he’s been regretting for over ten years worth of bad dates and worse sex.
“You know,” Jeongguk starts, and Yoongi doesn’t, but he’s afraid to find out, “Hudu is gonna be knocked out for at least an hour.”
“Mhm,” Yoongi hums, “only a light dose, very good.”
“While I appreciate the praise, Dr. Min, I was implying that I could hold down the fort with a sleeping dog while you take out the very pretty man who might need a distraction from his dog being attacked, and treat him to a midday coffee,” Jeongguk says all of this very matter-of-factly and Yoongi finds himself wanting to agree to the nonsense. “Maybe even a midday coffee that includes a deep discussion about regret and feelings.”
“Alright, enough,” Yoongi swallows, finishing the stitches and setting his tools down. “Maybe– maybe it isn’t a bad idea, but he would probably say no.”
“Insist,” Jeongguk shrugs, but then adds, “politely. Grovel, maybe.”
So Yoongi tosses his gloves and goes back out into the waiting room where Jimin is sitting alone. He looks very pretty as a grown man — the blond hair is new to Yoongi, but it suits him so well that it looks like it could be his natural hair color. He has a row of piercings on the ear he can see, with a dangly one hanging from the lowest point.
Jimin has aged gorgeously, and Yoongi suddenly feels inadequate.
“He’s doing just fine, but it will take another hour or so for the sedative to wear off,” Yoongi says by way of greeting, cautiously taking the open seat next to Jimin. “I’ll send him home with a cream for his eye, and maybe a few cans of wet food so he doesn’t have to chew so much while the stitches heal would be good.”
Jimin nods, turning his gaze to meet Yoongi’s, “what kind should I get?”
“Oh, no,” Yoongi shakes his head, “we’ve got a bunch, I’ll just pack it up for you, don’t worry about it.”
“Will it be expensive?” Jimin asks, chewing on his lip, “I get paid in a few days and kind of recently had to buy an entire new everything.”
“How recently did you move on your own?” Yoongi asks, though it’s not his business. “And I told you, I’ll throw it in on the house. I own the place, I won’t get in trouble for it.”
“Like, six months ago,” Jimin tells him, though he doesn’t have to.
“I know with divorces, people usually say they’re sorry, but in a lot of cases I think maybe a congratulations is in order,” Yoongi says, looking down to his hands in his lap.
“I mean,” Jimin shrugs, “yeah, I get that — like, I’m not getting cheated on anymore, so. That's a positive.”
“Cheated on?” Yoongi shouldn’t be pushing so much, but it sounds so absurd, turning to look at Jimin and his gorgeous face and soft hair and tender heart — Jimin doesn’t deserve all that’s happened to him, and Yoongi knows he’s part of what’s hurt him. “Sounds like you married an idiot.”
Jimin grins, but he turns his eyes to the ground, “we got married when I was nineteen.”
Three years after Yoongi left. He was away at college, nearly finished with his first round of schooling, and Jimin was in a serious enough relationship to be getting married.
“I wanted to ask if you’d like to go out somewhere while you wait for Hudu to wake up,” Yoongi says then, wanting to talk privately, “just for maybe a coffee. If you’d rather go off for an hour, or just sit here alone, I won’t mind. But if you’re up to it, I’d like to catch up.”
It takes a long moment before Jimin nods, standing up and heading towards the door, “let’s go, Dr. Min.”
⇢
They sit in the park at a bench in front of an empty play structure, coffees in hand — Yoongi had paid, though Jimin offered. It wouldn’t have been right under any circumstances to allow the younger to pay, but especially not while knowing what he now knows about this life.
“So,” he sighs, turning to face Yoongi with an arm propped up on the back of the bench, “tell me, how’s the dream life going?”
Yoongi feels the bitterness radiating off of Jimin, and it isn’t unjust in the slightest.
“I wouldn’t know,” Yoongi shrugs, sipping his coffee.
“Come on,” Jimin rolls his eyes, “you’re doing what you wanted to do your whole life, you own your own business, you make good money.”
“That’s not the only things people want in a dream life,” Yoongi argues, though he keeps his tone light, “sometimes it’s not as fun without someone to share it with.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, “yeah, it’s so hard to be well off and hang out with animals all day. What else, Yoongi, are you also just too handsome? Is that another problem on the fake problems bingo card?”
He hadn’t really expected this level of aggression, and it takes him so off guard that he doesn’t get a word in before Jimin is tearing him a new one again.
“The way you would try and complain to me about not having a partner? Me? After what you did — and yeah, I shouldn’t have gotten married to a fucking rebound, I get that that’s on me, but fuck Yoongi, you are not allowed to whine about your love life to me when you forever ruined mine.”
It digs in fucking deep, and Yoongi feels so much all at once — Jimin would probably spit on him if he started crying right now, but the feeling is there, lodged in his throat and burning his eyes.
“Jimin–ah,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He turns to face Jimin properly, trying to make eye contact, “I was talking to Jeongguk, the receptionist that you met, and he kind of — kind of told me that maybe fate is fucking with me and before you yell at me again I just want you to know that I’ve regretted that choice from twelve years ago pretty much every single day.”
Jimin is squinting at him, clearly still irritated, “you think it was fate that brought me to you? That my less than a year old dog was injured enough—”
“Jeongguk said that, not me,” Yoongi shakes his head, but rambles on, “I don’t think Hudu getting hurt was fate, but I think maybe I was meant to give you closure, because of what I did to you. I was a stupid teenager who thought I was doing the right thing, and you don’t owe me anything at all so of course you wouldn’t consider anything with me now, but maybe you’ll remember this conversation. You’ll remember that I ruined my own love life just as much as I ruined yours, so maybe it’ll make you feel better—”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Jimin asks.
“Because I could never find someone like you no matter how hard I looked,” Yoongi sighs, “I’ll never feel the connection we had again, and every relationship will always be lacking. I’ve all but given up, and I’m saying this now because maybe my pain will make you feel better — like justice.”
Jimin sits there for a long while, taking in the words Yoongi just spat out at him far too quickly. After it feels like they’re just going to continue sitting there for the rest of their lives, Jimin speaks up.
“What if this was supposed to happen,” he murmurs, avoiding Yoongi’s eyes, “maybe your receptionist is right.”
“I hope you can find someone when it’s right for you,” Yoongi whispers past the emotion threatening to clog his throat, “I just hope you’ll be happy.”
“Maybe,” Jimin tapers off, a soft hum following. Then, “do you really think of me every day?”
Yoongi flushes, “I know it’s pathetic—”
“Why didn’t you ever try and find me?” Jimin asks then, frowning, “if you’d… before I got married…”
“You hated me, Jimin–ah.”
“I was hurt,” Jimin shakes his head, “but if we had this talk fucking ten years ago, who knows what would have happened.”
Yoongi nods, though he doesn’t know what Jimin is thinking.
“What time are you off work?” Jimin asks suddenly.
“Six,” Yoongi replies.
“Okay,” Jimin nods, then looks at Yoongi very seriously, “where are you taking me, then?”
“What?”
“On the date,” he sighs, settling against the back of the bench, “where are you taking me on a date after you’re off work.”
“You want me to—”
“Obviously you aren’t going to ask, so I have to.”
“I’ll take you anywhere,” Yoongi knows he sounds overeager, but it could be — maybe fate, or something less corny. “Anywhere, Jimin–ah.”
“Okay,” he smiles then, standing, “walk me back to my dog. You can give me your number when you help me get Hudu into the car. You’ll take me somewhere fun at seven.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees, a stupid flare of hope settling in his chest, “yeah, of course — hyung will take you somewhere nice—”
“Not too nice,” he says, eyebrow arched, “remember, I’m broke as hell and half my clothes are at my old house—”
“Do you need help getting your things back?” Yoongi asks, not exactly comfortable with the fact that Jimin has been moved out for six months and is still missing his own things.
Jimin grins, a twinkle in his eye, “oh, hyung, you’re off to a great start already.”