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Sleep and coffee are two things Yoongi can never give up on but when you’ve got a pleading, whiny little boyfriend at the other end of the call pestering you to talk to him because it’s so cold and my room is so dark, and I really wanna come over but you know I have to memorise at least thirty pages for my next class, and I’m miserable, Yoongi, then you’ve got no other choice but to relent and put the call on speaker.
Yoongi has no other choice but to press down on the speaker and yell at Hoseok to shut up from the other side of the apartment.
“I’m talking to Jimin,” Yoongi yells at Hoseok who’s busying himself in the kitchen. “Don’t eavesdrop!”
It’s almost twelve midnight and Hoseok is busy trying to deal with his late night munchies.
“What am I supposed to do, duct tape my ears?” Hoseok yells back at him, banging at a pot for emphasis. “I would rather cut them off than listen to the two of you engage in phone sex – “
Yoongi sets the phone down on the table and tells Jimin, in an awfully sweet tone, that he’ll be back after he takes care of a couple things, and then proceeds to stomp into the kitchen to throw a pillow at Hoseok’s head. It bounces off his head and lands in the sink, and the two of them watch as their perfectly good pillow is stained with the remnants from dinner.
Hoseok groans and Yoongi rolls his eyes.
“I’ve got a business proposal I need to proofread and Jimin can’t come over tonight,” Yoongi says, voice matter of fact.
“Jimin can’t come over again and this is the fourth night in a row, are you perhaps getting needy?” Hoseok drops a fistful of pasta into the pot of boiling water and grins, amused at his own doing, before laughing at Yoongi’s direction. “I swear I won’t eavesdrop. If you guys want to do nasty, dirty stuff over the phone just tell me, I’ll gladly jump out the window.”
With a last scathing look at the idiot of a roommate (and a sore reminder of the only childhood friend he’d ever liked enough to bring into his young adult life), Yoongi turns on his heel and leaves Hoseok to his business – making pasta at midnight and laughing some more as he starts with the tomato sauce.
“I’m back. I showed a lot of self-restraint when I didn’t shove Hoseok into the boiling pot of water,” Yoongi plops back down on the couch, laptop balanced on one knee, and hand already reaching out for the cup of coffee sitting on the table in front of him. “What were you saying about the night being cold?”
On the other end of the line, he hears Jimin hum softly, voice a little bit far off when he says, “I haven’t seen you in ages. Do you still remember what I look like?”
Yoongi hears vague snickering from the kitchen, feels his cheeks redden at the all too cheesy question, and tilts his head back to look at the ceiling. As if he’d ever forget Jimin’s face – bright eyes, the softest hair his fingers have ever run through, and a smile that can probably start a fire in the secret, submerged city of Atlantis (Jimin’s smile is so bright and so warm Yoongi’s got no doubts as to his abilities to start the brightest bonfire in an underwater city.).
“Yes, o’course,” Yoongi finally says, a smile playing across his face. “You’re the annoying kid who dyed his hair for me once, right?”
He hears Jimin choke on water or maybe a sandwich, he had mentioned making a sandwich earlier, that’s quickly followed by a lot of sputtering, the other boy’s voice high pitched and ringing when he says, indignant, “Hey, you loved the red hair.”
Yoongi runs a hand through his hair – back to black now, thankfully, and he’ll never dye it again, not even if Jimin begs (okay, maybe he’ll consider if he does beg.) – and laughs quietly, “Yeah, you looked hot.”
Another snort from Hoseok in the kitchen and Yoongi will have to get up again to make do on his threat of stuffing him into his pot of pasta, face first, and then all his limbs after.
“I miss you,” Jimin says it like a sigh, his voice breathy. Yoongi hears a shuffling of paper that’s quickly followed by a pen tapping on the screen of his phone. “And school sucks. Our schedules suck, my part-time job sucks, and the stupid buses and their stupid routes after midnight suck, too.”
Yoongi listens to Jimin’s rambles, fingers tracing circles absentmindedly on the track pad of his laptop. “What else sucks?”
Jimin hums at the question, doesn’t respond for a few seconds before he says, voice lower, “Me, but not tonight, unfortunately.”
In the kitchen, Hoseok screams.
“I told you to give me a fucking warning, Yoongi, I asked nicely, why would you two do this to me?” He emerges from the kitchen with a bowl of spaghetti in one hand and a tong in the other. He yells even louder now for Jimin’s benefit, “Park Jimin, I thought we had something special.”
Jimin’s laugh is loud and he even sounds like he’s cackling – from the phone static, Yoongi thinks – and Yoongi just smirks at Hoseok from his place on the couch.
“Good job, babe,” Yoongi calls out to Jimin, snickering a little bit at the sight of Hoseok’s red face and red ears. “Too bad we didn’t make him drop the spaghetti, though,”
“Maybe we can try again tomorrow,” Jimin says, voice contemplative. “Or maybe you can put me off speaker phone and talk to me in your room.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hoseok yelps and this time Yoongi definitely hears the lid of the pot clattering to the floor. “Where are the scissors? I need to cut my ears off.”
Yoongi and Jimin both laugh in unison, amused and slightly a little bit interested at the idea of taking the phone call in the privacy of Yoongi’s closed quarters.
“Van Gogh used a knife, don’t fail Van Gogh, Hoseok.” Yoongi calls, pushing his laptop off his knees, and grabbing for his phone. “Good luck with the pasta, I’ve got an important call to take.”
He hears Hoseok’s frustrated call of “No, the original story was that he used a razor to slice his ear off but now critics are saying otherwise, fuck’s sake, Yoongi, learn art history.” the rest of whatever he rambles on cut off when Yoongi closes the door to his room.
--
He must really, really, really love Jimin because it’s two in the morning and he’s still got Jimin on the other end of the line and a coffee maker that’s half-full just waiting for him on the kitchen counter.
“Hey, does this sound alright?” Yoongi scrolls down on his analysis paper on the current state of Korea’s trade as of this very second (his professor is terrible and always demands they make use of the most relevant information. Yoongi wonders what kind of information about the trade and industry is relevant at two in the morning? Is Korea smuggling kangaroos illegally or are they shipping cocaine? Who knows?). Before he even gets a chance to ask, Jimin is whining on the other end of the call.
“No, my head hurts, please don’t talk about anything technical and difficult or else I’m going to die,” Jimin says, over reacting. “I don’t want to hear anything else unless it’s you saying you’re getting on the three a.m bus to come see me.”
Yoongi wants to patiently remind Jimin that this has been his idea – studying together, of sorts, over the phone (terrible, horrible idea because they both just snicker and bicker throughout the duration of the call) – and that he really doesn’t need to be listening to other bad ideas from a Park Jimin who’s lacking in sleep and sorely missing one Min Yoongi, but Jimin’s second idea doesn’t sound too bad at all.
Even his bones ache at the thought of seeing Jimin after a stressful day of work and classes, and before he even replies, he’s already grabbing for his wallet and keys. “Alright, alright, you’re terrible,” Yoongi shrugs into a jacket that he suspects is Hoseok’s, the sleeves too long on his arms, but it’s soft and he’s sure it’ll keep him warm so he doesn’t change out of it. “If I get mugged on my way there or if I die, get abducted by aliens, or something, then know that you’re responsible.”
“Oh,” Jimin’s voice is small and faraway.
He curses under his breath and crosses back into the living room and snatches up his phone from the coffee table – that explained why Jimin had sounded so far away. Pressing the phone up to his ear, he hears Jimin say, voice high pitched and clearly excited, “Yes, yes, okay. I mean, you coming over, not getting mugged or anything.”
With a hasty goodbye, Yoongi ends the call and starts his way down the flight of stairs, pushing through the flimsy excuse of a gate their landlord had recently installed a couple of weeks ago. It’s three in the morning and Yoongi is wrapped in a hoodie that’s not his and walking down the empty, almost scary if he has to admit, streets of his neighbourhood just so he can catch the closest bus to get to his stupid, adorable boyfriend who lives too fucking far.
Well, thirty minutes on a good day by bus isn’t far, per se, but it’s three in the morning and god damn it, Yoongi just misses Jimin so much he’s willing to give up on sleep just to see him (and disregard his safety, it’s three in the morning and even the safest cities aren’t completely safe. Who knows what type of bogeyman is lurking in that particularly dark corner?).
Thirty four minutes later and Yoongi’s fist knocks heavily against the wooden door to Jimin and Taehyung’s apartment.
The doorknob turns after a minute and Yoongi takes a step back just as Jimin flings the door open, his smile expectant and wide.
“Fuck,” Is the first thing Yoongi says when he sees that Jimin’s only choice of clothing for this cold night is an oversized sweater and boxer briefs that shine a bright yellow under the grey sweater. “Fuck,” He says again when Jimin pulls him inside, mouth already on his in a searing, sloppy kiss that leaves the two of them stumbling in the dark and bumping into a kitchen table.
Jimin hisses from the pain and Yoongi kisses him again, catching the breathy exhale that Jimin moans out when his fingers tangle in his hair.
“I have homework to do,” Jimin murmurs against the side of his jaw. “And Taehyung is sleeping in the other room, and Jeongguk is crashing on the couch – “
At the mention of the younger boy on the couch, the mountain of pillows cascade down one another in a pitiful avalanche, and Jeongguk pokes his head from under a thick blanket, blinking blearily up at the two of them.
“That almost gave me a heart attack,” Yoongi says, voice a little bit high pitched at the shock of watching pillows move just out of nowhere. “I thought that was a ghost,”
Jeongguk’s laugh is slow and sleepy, “Is Yoongi hyung usually this stupid or are you cheating on him with an idiot?”
Yoongi smacks his face with the cold side of the pillow and Jimin snickers beside Yoongi, the boy’s hands catching at his wrist.
“Go back to sleep and pretend nothing’s happened, Jeongguk,” Jimin says, relieving him of the crushing weight of the pillow on his face.
When Jeongguk slips back into sleep, Jimin turns to look at Yoongi, his eyes glinting playfully even in the dim light. “Missed you,” He murmurs, hands running down on either side of Yoongi. “And you really came,”
There’s a joke that Yoongi bites down on because he knows that now is not the time for it – it’s almost four in the morning and they’re both running on no sleep at all – and just kisses Jimin again, this time slower.
It’s only when they’re both finally tucked under the warm blankets that Jimin voices out his irritation, whining a little bit when he says, “I remember staying over your place all the time,”
Yoongi nods at that, his arm slung lazily across Jimin’s stomach. “That was two months ago, babe,”
Jimin nuzzles his cheek against Yoongi’s, his eyes fluttering to a close as he relaxes beside Yoongi. “It just sucks,”
And yeah, it kinda does.
“Why do we even bother sleeping in different beds?” Yoongi’s hand has slipped under Jimin’s sweater to splay fingers on the bare skin of his waist. His fingers must be a little bit cold because Jimin involuntarily shivers at the touch. “And why do you have Jeongguk on your couch?”
“His RA is a loser and his roommate is a loser, too. Basically, the dorm he’s in is full of losers, so we extended our couch,” Jimin explains, words coming out slower, sleep slowly pulling him under. “He’s been here for a week already, I think. And yeah, why do we even sleep in different beds?”
Yoongi has one of those moments on TV where the characters look at the ceiling for a little too long, their eyes widening when they realise that they’ve just been hit by an idea. A eureka moment, if you will.
“Let’s move in together,” The words tumble over each other in his rush and Jimin inhales sharply. “I mean, if you want.”
He gets his answer when Jimin clambers to sit on him, his smile ecstatic and his eyes bright. He kisses Yoongi with too much teeth because he can’t just help grinning, and Yoongi gives up halfway through the kiss to laugh, a little bit breathless now.
“What do you say? Good idea or bad idea, given that it’s four in the morning?” Yoongi presses gently into Jimin’s ribcage, fingers playing the piano along Jimin’s side as he waits for a response.
“Yes, hell yes, of course.” Jimin says, leaning down to press their foreheads together, Yoongi’s cheek cradled in his hands. “For people who’ve barely had eight hours of sleep the past two days, it’s a fantastic idea!”
--
They decide to move in together and it’s the easiest thing they’ve ever done (that, and kissing, too.).
Hoseok is thankfully sober when they sit him down the next afternoon, a large bowl of cereal on his lap and an even larger spoon in his hand.
“Hoseok, that’s a ladle,” Jimin points out. “And I think that’s a pot, not a bowl for cereal,”
“Did you two come here just to judge me?” Hoseok scoffs, feigning insult as he glares at the two of them over his pot of cereal. “I’m stress eating. I can’t get the hang of baking yet so I’m stress eating,”
Hoseok is a talented culinary student who makes up for Yoongi’s lack of common sense when it comes to the kitchen. He scoops cereal up into his spoon – his ladle, Jimin would like to correct – and then shoves it into his mouth, dribbling milk a little bit in the process. “I think I need a smaller spoon,”
“Can we just – “ Yoongi reaches over to Hoseok’s side and attempts to grab the bowl – it’s a fucking pot – away from him but Hoseok recoils quickly away, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Okay, fine, eat, drown in fucking cereal, see if I care when you’re coughing yourself sick later.”
“What do you two want?” Hoseok sets the cereal down on the coffee table, his eyes darting from Yoongi and then Jimin. “I can’t read the mood very well, I’ve been stuffing myself with junk food the last eighteen hours,”
Yoongi honestly can’t believe how far his friendship with Hoseok has taken him already – the boy is a complete git most of the time (and also endearing when Yoongi doesn’t get the sudden urge to whack him in the back of his head for every other word out of his mouth). He gives Hoseok’s knee a pat that he hopes is reassuring.
Well, the pat seems to have worked because Hoseok isn’t glaring anymore, smiling instead at the both of them.
“I need to let the two of you down gently,” Hoseok says, trying to sound sympathetic and kind. He reaches across the couch to grip both their hands. “I’m not interested in any weird ass three-way you two are planning. But we can still be friends,”
Yoongi rips his hand away from Hoseok’s and Jimin stares at him, mouth gaping open and his eyes wide.
“Hey, I tried to reject you two nicely,” Hoseok leans back against the couch, pouting a little bit. “I mean, I even saved you the effort of actually saying the words,”
“We’re not interested in having a three-way with you, what the fuck?” Yoongi seethes out the same time Jimin says, a bit dazedly, “A three-way? With Hoseok, of all people?”
It’s oddly reminiscent to an old little misunderstanding they’d had a year back. And just like a year ago, Hoseok frowns at the two of them, insult clear on his face, “I swear, both of you just get ruder by the day.” He clutches a hand to his chest, “And here I thought Jimin was actually nice.”
Jimin sticks his tongue out at him and Yoongi just shakes his head, hand settling on Jimin’s knee to pull him back down on the couch.
“Fuck’s sake, how are we supposed to make a point in this house?” Yoongi’s fingers tighten involuntarily on Jimin’s knee, the other boy sighing, equal parts frustrated and amused at their current situation.
“We’re moving in together,” Jimin finally provides, looking at Yoongi first and then at Hoseok. “Okay?”
Hoseok’s reaction is completely unexpected – he throws his arms in the air and gives a loud yelp, “Fuck yeah, good fucking riddance, Min Yoongi,” He points passionately at Yoongi, his grin wide, and says, “It only took me thirteen years but I’ve finally gotten rid of you.”
Yoongi doesn’t know how to tell him he’s got it all wrong because he can’t say anything, no when he’s laughing so hard that tears are starting to well up in his eyes.
“Babe,” Yoongi finally breathes out, turning to face Jimin. “Are you really sure you want to move in? The idiot’s kind of part of the package,”
Jimin shrugs, unconcerned, and pecks Yoongi’s cheek. “Nah, it’s cool. I already told Jeongguk he can have my old room, too. He says he’s gonna bring all his stuff in by Monday.”
“What,” Hoseok starts, popping their little bubble. “I thought you two were moving together.”
You need to have a certain type of patience to deal with Hoseok, especially if it’s Hoseok who’s slowly nearing finals and stressed out of his fucking mind.
“Yeah, Jimin’s moving in with us,” Yoongi says it very slowly, enunciating each word. He reaches for Hoseok from across the couch and his hands settle on the boy’s shoulders. “Jimin is moving with us. Here, in our apartment.” Yoongi is talking really slowly, the words dragging. He squeezes at Hoseok’s shoulder, fingers applying more pressure than necessary. “Understand?”
Hoseok blinks at him, no trace of the smug grin on his face now. Slowly, realisation dawns on him and he stands up on the couch, dragging Yoongi up with him who stumbles on his footing, and lands against Hoseok, their foreheads bumping together painfully.
“No more phone sex?” Hoseok asks, voice gravelly serious.
Jimin chokes on his cough from behind Yoongi.
“Okay,” Yoongi agrees, shrugging. Not that they’d need it now when Jimin’s moving in. “We promise none of that anymore.”
And then Hoseok kisses him on his cheeks, quick pecks that has the other boy laughing as he jumps down from the couch, pulling Jimin up by his elbows and wrapping his arms around him in a bone crushing hug, if Jimin’s small yelp of pain is anything to go by.
“Welcome, Park Jimin,” Hoseok says, arms spread wide on either side of him, gesturing to the apartment.
Yoongi jumps down from the couch and sidles up next to Jimin, his arms coming around Jimin’s waist to pull him close to his side. “I hope you don’t regret this,” Yoongi whispers, lips grazing teasingly at the edge of his jaw.
Hoseok throws a pillow at the both of them and Yoongi drops his hold around Jimin to growl his threat, hands already grabbing at Hoseok’s pot of cereal. “I will fucking dump this on your head, Jung Hoseok, I swear to god – “
Jimin’s laugh is amused and absolutely magical behind Yoongi.
--
Their idea of a house warming party (or a moving in party) is to kick Hoseok out of the apartment for the rest of the afternoon, Yoongi shoving coins into his hands before he shut the door in his face.
“What is this?” Hoseok’s voice is loud, his knocking on the door insistent. “If you’re going to pay me off to stay away then you should’ve at least given me five dollars,”
Jimin tells him that the coins are enough for three cupcakes in the bakery three blocks down from the apartment.
The door locks quietly behind him and when he turns, he finds that Jimin is positively beaming at him from the middle of the room.
“Come here,” Jimin invites, extending a hand out for Yoongi to take.
Their fingers twine together and Jimin pulls him against his chest, the boy’s laughter rumbling like thunder but warm like the sun.
“Wow,” Yoongi says, a little bit astounded. He kisses Jimin once on the nose, laughing when Jimin crinkles his nose, the sensation a little bit ticklish. “So we live together now, huh?”
“Who would’ve known?” Jimin’s fingers are splayed on the back of Yoongi’s neck, his lips grazing just over Yoongi’s collarbone when he ducks down to murmur, “If you hadn’t pretended to be my blind date,”
Yoongi’s hold on Jimin’s waist tightens, their interlocked hands swinging a little bit when Yoongi presses closer to Jimin. “I would probably have had more hours of sleep, give or take,”
Jimin drags his teeth across Yoongi’s collarbone and Yoongi bites out a curse, “Fuck, okay, yeah, I’m so glad I fell in love with you too, okay? You changed my life, you’re the wind beneath my wings, and all of that,”
“Don’t be difficult,” Jimin tugs playfully on his hair, “Why are you always difficult?”
He supposes that a long, hard kiss will be more than enough of an apology so he kisses Jimin, coaxes his mouth open to allow him entrance, and slides his leg between Jimin’s, his fingers scratching down from his chest to his stomach.
“So difficult,” Jimin manages to get out, face flushed and eyes blown with want and pure need.
Yoongi’s smile is completely angelic, the twinkle in his eyes not mischievous at all, even as his hands splay on Jimin’s ass, cupping him through his jeans. “What?”
With his fingers tangled in Yoongi’s hair, Jimin lets out a sigh, completely melting into his touch, and breathes out, “I love you,” Jimin’s smile is like the sun slowly appearing after the heavy, dark storm clouds have dispersed. “Like, a whole lot.”
Who would’ve thought, really, that a blind date he’d pretended to be on a year and maybe a half ago (give or take a couple more months) would be moving in with him now? It’s amazing how things like this happen, even more wonderful how two people can just fall into each other the way they both do, the way they fall in love, over and over again, every morning even more in love than the last.
A bit cheesy, but Yoongi will give Jimin that (and every one of his friends is inclined to believe that Yoongi will give Jimin just about anything, maybe even the clouds and the sun, if that’s what Jimin wants.).
They fall asleep in a tangle of limbs on their bed, the sheets discarded somewhere on the floor. It’s a warm spring afternoon and Yoongi sleeps with his head pillowed on Jimin’s chest, the familiar weight of Jimin’s arm slung across his back comforting and feeling exactly like how home would feel like.
Home, Yoongi thinks, seconds before he falls asleep, a small, soft little smile on his face.
--
They wake up to loud music from the living room, the sound of chatter and laughter rousing them from their sleep. Yoongi pushes Jimin back on the bed to deal with the mess and pokes his head, messy hair and all, out of the room to glare at all their friends – Hoseok had come back with a whole party behind him, Seokjin, Namjoon, and even Taehyung and Jeongguk, too. – who fall silent at the sight of Yoongi blinking the sleep out of his eyes.
“Move the party to Namjoon’s place, it’s literally down the fucking hall,” Yoongi points to the door, eyes scanning the room looking for Hoseok. He finds Hoseok with a plastic bag full of beer in one hand, his grin shaky when Yoongi scowls at him. “Come back tomorrow, we’re sleeping right now.”
And without another word said, Yoongi closes the door to their room, grumbling a little bit about evasive friends and a stupid, idiot of a roommate – Jung Hoseok, not Park Jimin – who means well but has the worst timing sometimes.
He settles back into the bed, yawning the second his head hits the pillow.
“What was that?” Jimin asks, his arm coming around Yoongi’s waist again, hand settling warm and heavy on his side.
Yoongi trails kisses down the side of Jimin’s face, kisses his cheek, the edge of his mouth, his lips, and then his jaw, his reply sleepy and muffled when he says, “They’ll come back tomorrow, s’okay, I wanna sleep.”
“Okay,” Jimin yawns, his eyes fluttering to a close again. “Let’s sleep.”
They sleep together for the first time on a bed that’s actually the both of theirs and when they wake up the next morning – at noon, sometime around one – they both agree that they’ve never slept better than they did like that, all wrapped up together and at home in each other’s arms.
--
Yoongi stumbles back into the apartment after a tiring shift from work and Jimin walks out of the kitchen to smile at him, his eyes turning into half-crescent shapes and his smile so beautiful when he says, “Welcome home.”
It takes a few seconds for Yoongi to stammer out his own, albeit rather late, response, because he’s so flustered and suddenly overwhelmed, too, and just, wow, who knew it would be so damn beautiful just to hear Jimin say that?
“I’m home,”
(Hoseok yells out a, “Welcome back, asshole,” from the living room and Yoongi ignores it completely, too busy pressing Jimin against the wall for a long and searing kiss.)