Chapter Text
It was a warm afternoon, almost too warm, in the sneaky way that late spring can sometimes be. The only sound permeating through the still air was the trickling of the fountain just beyond the garden wall. From overhead, a weak ray of sunlight peeked out from behind a cluster of happy white clouds to brighten up the palace grounds.
With his loose riding shirt sticking to his back from the heat, Jimin nocked an arrow and raised his bow to take aim. The small gathering of people around him sucked in a collective gasp of air as they waited for the snap of his bow string.
But it never came.
The hair on the back of Jimin’s neck suddenly stood on end and he dropped the bow back to his side with a sigh.
“I nearly had it, you know,” he said, turning.
Near the arching entrance of the garden stood Min Yoongi, dark hair windswept and face a little flushed from the high temperatures. His riding jacket hung over his arm and the white shirt he was wearing had been untucked from his breeches, giving him a somewhat debonair appearance. Jimin’s stomach flipped at the sight of him, but he tamped down on the arousal bubbling in his belly to frown at the man instead. To his dismay, this only made Yoongi smirk as he sauntered into the garden.
“Sorry,” he began, though he didn’t sound very sorry at all. “Am I interrupting?”
Jimin pouted, ignoring his question, and spun back around toward the target at the other end of the garden. He nocked his arrow again and took aim for the second time. The arrow launched forward, whizzing through the air before it landed directly in the center of the target. Pleased with the outcome, Jimin lowered his bow, though his grip around the length of it did not loosen.
Soft applause from the watching group of guardsmen and teachers rang through the quiet air as Yoongi whistled lowly.
“Wow,” he said. “That’s impressive.”
Jimin huffed, not ignorant of the poorly disguised teasing in his voice. “May I help you?”
Yoongi draped his riding jacket over the empty garden bench and stepped even closer to Jimin, so close that Jimin could now smell his signature floral scent through the quiet air. It was perhaps a little distracting, but he pushed the thought from his mind as Yoongi continued speaking.
“I heard through the grapevine that my fiancé is angry at me. I’ve come to find out why that might be,” he explained.
“Is that so?”
Jimin threw a caustic glare in the direction of the so-called “grapevine” standing a few feet from them. Seokjin and Jungkook, his personal guards and mischief makers extraordinaire, immediately looked elsewhere, refusing to make eye contact.
“So, why are you angry at me, darling?”
The tenderness that floated through Yoongi’s tone caused Jimin’s cheeks to bloom pink without his permission and he sighed. There was nothing more inconvenient in this moment than his body’s immediate, indiscriminate reactions to Yoongi. Rather than the angry young man that he was, he imagined he was projecting the appearance of a child with a schoolboy crush instead.
Jimin handed over his bow and quiver of arrows to one of the footmen before facing Yoongi with all of his attention.
“I’m not angry,” he maintained, folding his arms over his chest.
Yoongi’s lips quirked. “Oh?”
He reached forward to brush back a stray lock of golden hair from Jimin’s forehead. Jimin closed his eyes when the knuckles of the same hand danced across his cheek in a slow caress.
“I’m not,” Jimin whispered. He took a moment to collect himself before stepping back, out of Yoongi’s reach. “I just wanted to know why you would have kept it a secret.”
Yoongi heaved a sigh, his expression shifting into something more serious. “It was for your own benefit, Jimin-ah.”
But this was certainly the wrong, if not expected, answer, and Jimin bristled. “My own ben—how? Hyung, you knew for three whole years!”
Yoongi immediately shook his head, arguing, “No—Not three years. The discussions began three years ago, but we didn’t make a final decision until summer solstice last year.”
Jimin rolled his eyes, flopping down on the garden bench a little ungracefully, and waved a hand to dismiss his archery instructors and the palace staff. He didn’t much fancy airing his domestic failings so publicly. All but Seokjin and Jungkook departed, though the two guards stepped back through the garden entrance to give the princes some privacy.
“Oh, so only a year then. I see,” Jimin said, tone doused in sarcasm. “I thought we were friends, hyung. I thought you had the same sort of respect and admiration for me as I do for you.”
“My darling, I do,” Yoongi assured him, kneeling in the grass at Jimin’s feet. “There is no one in this beautiful world who means more to me than you do.”
“Then, why? And be honest with me, please… for once.”
Yoongi placed his hands on Jimin’s knees to balance himself. He looked so handsome with his sleeves rolled up, left arm showing off the lone tattoo of a music note on his wrist. Jimin resisted the unrelenting urge to hold his hand, pride getting in the way of his affection.
“I wanted to tell you,” Yoongi said, biting his lip. “From the moment your father sent the first letter to mine.”
Suddenly, unbidden, Jimin’s eyes blurred with a fresh onset of tears. Yoongi sucked in a deep breath.
“Don’t cry, petal, please. My heart breaks every time you do.”
Jimin turned away to look across the garden, swiping at his cheeks in frustration. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get emotional. It wasn’t that he was unhappy. He just felt—overwhelmed. Yesterday, Yoongi was his friend—albeit the best one Jimin had ever had—and now… they were getting married. To no one’s surprise, of course. His father had always warned Jimin that he and Yoongi would be engaged someday. He just assumed he would be part of the decision-making process when it happened.
“I wanted to tell you,” Yoongi murmured again, grip tightening on Jimin’s legs. “But the queen forbade it. She didn’t want you to be distracted from your studies.
Yoongi did look very regretful when Jimin took a moment to look—really look—at him. His cat-like, sleepy eyes were crinkled at the corners as he frowned, mouth turned up into a cute little pout. Jimin had always known Yoongi would be the one he’d marry, whether by the machinations of the royal family or by his own will. They were meant for each other. Made for each other.
Yoongi peered up at him with a blue sort of pleading in his eyes and the shards of ice around Jimin’s heart finally began to melt. With one gentle hand, Jimin reached out to card through Yoongi’s messy black hair and Yoongi leaned into the touch.
“That does sound like something my mother would do,” Jimin admitted. But just to be sure, he asked, “You truly meant no harm?”
Yoongi nodded, eyes closed in bliss as Jimin fingers continued stroking through his hair.
“I see,” Jimin said.
Yoongi opened his eyes, a smile already blooming across his lips at the notes of acquiescence falling through Jimin’s tone. “Then, do you—?”
But Jimin wasn’t done just yet. “Hmm… perhaps. But I would like you to do something for me first.”
“Anything, darling,” Yoongi assured him. “I’d do anything for you.”
Jimin dragged his hand out of Yoongi’s hair and down to pinch his cheek, before caressing his cheekbone tenderly. Yoongi’s ears turned pink in a sure sign of embarrassment, which caused Jimin to smile.
“I want compensation for you keeping secrets,” Jimin said.
Yoongi lifted a curious brow.
“I’ve never been kissed, did you know?” Jimin asked.
Yoongi’s other brow shot up, betraying his surprise. Jimin reached out with his free hand to twine their fingers together.
“Yes… I did,” Yoongi said carefully, glancing down at their hands. “And?”
“Well, give me a kiss. I want that to be my compensation.”
Yoongi pulled away to sit back on his rear end and chuckled low in his throat, as though flabbergasted.
“Is that so? You’re a minx, little one,” he said, wagging a finger at Jimin. “What do I get from this?”
Jimin pouted. “My forgiveness?”
Yoongi shook his head. “It’s a high price to pay for forgiveness when we both know you’re not angry at me anymore,” he said.
“Then?”
Yoongi rubbed his chin in thought. “Teach me how to shoot an arrow. I’ve always wanted to learn.”
“An archery lesson in exchange for a kiss?” Jimin asked, too much eagerness dripping through his words.
Yoongi huffed out a sigh and shook his head. “Kisses aren’t to be taken so lightly, my love,” he admonished.
“Well, I’ll only teach you how to shoot an arrow if you give me a kiss,” Jimin said, folding his arms over his chest. “If this isn’t agreeable, you’ll have to come up with a different method of recompense.”
“Now, I didn’t say it wasn’t agreeable, petal,” Yoongi pointed out. He glanced around the garden and spotted Jimin’s discarded bow and quiver of arrows. Gesturing at them, he continued with a sigh, “Go on, then.”
Jimin’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
Yoongi turned back to him and nodded with a shrug.
Without any further delay, Jimin jumped to his feet to retrieve his equipment. “Okay! Come on, hyung.”
“Have mercy on me, hmm, darling?” Yoongi mumbled, approaching the center of the garden where Jimin stood.
“Not likely,” Jimin quipped. He offered Yoongi the bow and pulled him gently into position by the shoulders. Taking his own place behind Yoongi, quiver hung around him and chest against Yoongi’s back, he dropped one small hand on Yoongi’s narrow waist and gripped the bow around Yoongi’s much larger hand with the other. His heart, the traitor, thudded at their proximity, but Jimin ignored its pounding and began the lesson. “Now, the first thing you need to do is nock your arrow on the string. Just like this.”
He extracted an arrow from the quiver and positioned it on the bow for Yoongi. “Lift the bow and hold it straight out ahead of you. Pull back the string and, using your jawline as an anchor for your hand, take aim,” he murmured.
As he continued to give instructions, Jimin unconsciously drew closer to Yoongi until his mouth was just beside Yoongi’s ear. It was all he could do not to lean in and kiss him.
“Once you think you’ve aimed properly, release the arrow.”
The arrow shot forward, landing against the target just shy of the center. Yoongi huffed out a laugh, turning around in Jimin’s arms with delight shining in his eyes, before he realized how close they were standing and his expression softened.
“Jimin-ah.”
Jimin’s cheeks blossomed with pink warmth and he shyly dropped his head against Yoongi’s shoulder, suddenly unable to meet his eye. He heard the bow being dropped to the ground before he felt Yoongi’s arms wind around his waist. A cocoon of honey sweet affection encased Jimin in its embrace.
“I forgive you,” Jimin whispered. “You don’t have to kiss me.”
“Oh?” Yoongi’s voice carried humor in it, but the gentle kind, the kind of humor that Jimin knew was stuffed full of love for him.
He pulled back just far enough that he could look into Yoongi’s face and nodded.
“And what if I said I want to kiss you, little one?”
The warmth in Jimin cheeks began to spread up to his ears and down to his neck. With wide eyes, he stuttered out, “Y-You do?”
Yoongi nodded. “Of course I do. It’s always been you, Jimin-ah. Whether or not there are fancy titles like ‘engagement’ or ‘marriage’ for what we have between us, my love for you will never change.”
Love.
“So, can I kiss you, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi asked, reaching up to cup Jimin’s cheek.
Jimin couldn’t help but nod.
Heart pounding in his throat and stomach full to bursting with a kaleidoscope of butterflies, he tightened his grip on Yoongi’s shoulders as Yoongi leaned forward. His eyes fell closed and before long, the feeling of Yoongi’s lips upon his own, soft and warm like the caress of a summer breeze, had Jimin’s skin tingling. It was wet and strange, having another person’s mouth pressed against his, but Yoongi poured so much care and tenderness into the moment that all Jimin could feel was bliss.
They pulled apart after only a moment, but Jimin thought his knees might have buckled if not for Yoongi’s grip around his waist. Shyly, he pressed his face back into Yoongi’s shoulder and sighed.
“I love you,” Yoongi murmured, “beyond what words can convey.”
Jimin whined in embarrassment, but snuggled closer and dropped a kiss against Yoongi’s neck. “I love you, too. You know that, don’t you, hyung?”
Yoongi carded a hand through Jimin’s hair and huffed out a low laugh that Jimin could feel reverberate through his chest. “I know that, little one.”
“But if you ever keep secrets again, I won’t be so easily swayed into forgiving you.”
“I know,” Yoongi agreed. “So long as you keep your arrows pointed at the target and not at me, however, this love may survive after all.”