Work Text:
Yoongi sat on the hill, cursing under his breath. Things weren’t going his way, it almost seemed like it never did. Nobody was downloading his mixtapes, buying his albums. Well, that’s what it seemed like, anyway.
At least a few people like me, he thought to himself.
But that wasn’t enough. He wanted a lot of people to appreciate him and his music. Everyone in the world, if it was possible. Yoongi wanted to have fanmail and fan signings, but all he had was social media. And that was barely getting him by. He began to wonder why he even chose to make music and write lyrics.
An unwelcome tear ran down his face.
“Excuse me, but why are you crying?” Yoongi heard a voice say. He looked up only to see a concerned boy that was obviously younger than him.
“Why are you asking?” He asked the boy. He didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just that his concept of music seemed to sneak into his actual personality.
The round-faced boy was taken aback by Yoongi’s words. “Because I care,” he said, sitting down next to the suffering rapper.
Yoongi scoffed. “No you don’t. Nobody does.”
“Yes I do!” Jimin said, attempting to do aegyo at the moment. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”
And while pink-orange sky turned to darkness, Yoongi told the boy everything. How he was struggling for fame and how it wasn’t working out.
Jimin put his hand on the older one’s shoulder. “Well, it may not be working out right now, but don’t you ever give up. You see that star up there in the sky?” he pointed up at the pitch-black blanket above them.
Yoongi looked up, confused. “Which one? There’s thousands of them.”
“That’s the point. Even though one star knows the others will still shine even after it’s gone, it doesn’t just give up and not shine. It knows that it matters.”
Yoongi didn’t reply.
“Well, I better get going,” Jimin said, getting up from the grass. “Bye!” The boy was running.
“Bye! Wait, I don’t know your-” but the boy had already disappeared.
“…your name.”
So the next day, Yoongi came back to the hill. He was going to wait for that boy to come back again. As he got to the top of the hill, he already saw someone lying on the ground, looking up. It was him. Yoongi got closer. “Uh, hi. I never got your name..?”
“It’s Jimin. Park Jimin.” He said, smiling. “I was waiting for you to ask me yesterday, but you never did. He chuckled lightly. “Hi, Yoongi.”
Yoongi jumped back. “How do you know my name?”
“You said your name about three thousand times during your story. I guess I caught on pretty quickly.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Yoongi sat down on the soft grass. “So, what are you doing?”
“Looking at the clouds.” Jimin continued to gaze at the sky. It was light blue today, a normal forecast for a hot summer day.
Yoongi sighed. “But they don’t look like anything, they just look like clouds.”
The younger one gasped, and looked at Yoongi. “Yes they do! All you have to have is imagination.”
Yoongi laughed uncomfortably. “I sure don’t have any of that,” he said, picking at the grass.
“Stop saying nonsense. You write rap lyrics and produce music, for God’s sake. Just think harder.”
So the rest of the day, they looked at the clouds, until they began to turn dark and threatening.
“It wasn’t supposed to rain today,” Yoongi said, beginning to leave. “That’s strange.”
Jimin laughed. “It’s not going to, silly.”
“But the clouds are dark-“
“That doesn’t mean anything. Mother Nature likes to play tricks sometimes, just believe me.
Yoongi started to become suspicious. “Okay,” he said, sitting back down.
And Jimin was right.
The sun peeked from behind the clouds ten minutes later and the clouds returned to looking like soft marshmallows. It was almost like nothing happened.
“Are you physic or something?” Yoongi asked.
“No, I just realized it with time, and getting caught in the rain a lot.”
So the two laughed together once again as the pink-orange sky turned to darkness, and Yoongi forgot about being underappreciated. He appreciated Jimin more than anyone ever would.
Goodbyes soon followed, and they went their separate ways. Jimin ran once again.
Why does he always run? Yoongi thought. But he shook the thought away and returned back home to work on a song he’d been stuck on. But he couldn’t begin. He kept thinking about Jimin, and if he was okay, what he was doing, who he might be with…
Oh no, this isn’t happening. Yoongi’s pencil fell of the table, and he didn’t retrieve it.
I can’t be falling in love with Park Jimin.
No, no, no.
I can’t tell him, though, it’d be better to keep it to myself anyway, right?
“Jimin, why do you always run to where you’re going after you leave here?” Yoongi asked Jimin one day.
Jimin laughed. “I don’t know, really.” He looked like he was lying.
“Oh.”
So they talked once again, as the pink-orange sky turned to darkness, but Yoongi’s chest began to ache.
“Uh, I have to leave now, Jimin,” he said, grabbing his chest in pain.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Jimin asked, worry on his face.
“Uh, yeah, just heartburn. Bye, Jimin.”
“Okay, goodbye.”
This time, Yoongi left first, unable to bear the pain of having Jimin running away from him again. But leaving Jimin behind hurt just as much.
Later that night, Yoongi was in the middle of writing a song when he coughed up daisy petals onto the table. He jumped up, screaming, not caring about who would hear him.
Now he knew he had to tell Jimin, or he would die.
I shouldn’t have ever went to the hill that day, Yoongi thought to himself.