Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time Jimin brought it up Yoongi didn’t think too much of it. It was early evening on a Thursday in the middle of March. They had long fell into a comfortable routine. It had been nearly a year since Hoseok moved out and Jimin had moved into the apartment, and their romance blossomed so easily, falling into place almost as if it was meant to be there the entire time. They hadn’t been dating much longer than 8 months, hardly knew each other longer than 12, but Yoongi had trouble remember what his life was like before Jimin became an integral part of it, and he struggled even more with imaging a life that was void of him. Yoongi thought it ought to be scary, or at the very least concerning, that every dream, every aspiration, every plan he now made had Jimin right in the center of it. It wasn’t. Instead, it created a deep sense of contentment, a rightness that resonated with every part of him, and Yoongi was too sure of himself, and maybe even a little too selfish, to attempt to deny himself something that felt so necessary.

Yoongi stood in front of the kitchen counter, fingers curled back to hold the onion in place while his other hand wielded the knife. Jimin was sitting cross-legged on the couch, leaned up against the arm rest, with his laptop sitting in his lap. There was quiet, rhythmic music playing through the house that Yoongi hummed along to as he cooked.

“Hyung,” Jimin called out, his voice carrying through the living room and into the kitchen.

“Hmm?” Yoongi hummed in response. After a second, then two, of silence he looked up. To his surprise, Jimin’s eyes were still on the screen in front of him, his nails slowly tapping against the metal next to the mousepad.

Yoongi used the back of hand to push his hair out of his eyes, he really should put on a headband before cooking, but he forgot this time, and now the process of leaving the kitchen to go find one felt like more trouble than it was worth.

He was beginning to wonder if he had imagined Jimin’s voice, or maybe he was talking to himself and Yoongi misheard. His eyes flickering back down to the cutting board, caught in between continuing on with his cooking and speaking to ask if Jimin had called him. Before he could decide, Jimin spoke again, quieter this time. His voice barely above the volume of the music.

“Would you still love me if I was a girl?”

Yoongi blinked at the question. Jimin hadn’t moved an inch, eyes trained forward and avoiding Yoongi’s gaze, but Yoongi had seen his mouth move, watched his lips form around the question, slow and hesitant and with something akin to heaviness that he didn’t quite understand.

“Of course I would,” Yoongi answered, and Jimin’s head snapped towards him at the speed of lighting. Yoongi could barely make out his face in the dim room, straining to see the wide, deep brown eyes that were staring back at him.

He put down the knife he hadn’t realized he was still holding and wiped his hands on his jeans. He could feel Jimin’s eyes following him as he walked across the kitchen to turn on the light and then changed direction to the living room.

He stopped right next to the couch, the side across from where Jimin was sitting, long, slender fingers coming up to turn the knob of the standing lamp that was there. “Three please,” Jimin said quietly, and Yoongi swore he could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. Three metallic clicks echoed and the living room was illuminated with pale yellow light.

Yoongi’s eyes landed back on Jimin, who was still looking up at him. His lips were pursued into a thin line, bleach blonde hair pushed off his forehead, loose black shirt hanging off of sagging shoulders. He looked tired in a way that made Yoongi’s heart ache a bit, it was the kind of exhaustion that manifested in his eyes, wide and glassy with pupils that were only a speck of black driftwood in a vast, brown ocean.

“I’d love you no matter what,” Yoongi said, taking a step forward to close the distance between them. “You know that.”

Jimin’s eyebrows knitted together, as if he were deeply unsatisfied with Yoongi’s answer. His jaw twitched, and Yoongi could practically see his tongue rolling around in his mouth, wresting with the words he struggled to put voice to.

Yoongi waited, swallowing down the desire to guess, to babble out reassurances and promises until he stumbled across the one that would soothe the lines of concern that sketched their way across Jimin’s face. He could temper down his own anxiety, will his breath to come slow and deep as he practiced tedious patience.

“Would you love me if I was a worm?” Jimin asked.

Yoongi struggled to contain his surprise, pursing his own lips to hide the smile that was tugging at the corner of his lips. He wasn’t surprised at the question exactly, more the unmitigated serious tone in which it was asked. Jimin’s expression didn’t change a bit, his eyes remained glued to Yoongi as he waited for an answer.

“Of course I would still love you if you were worm,” Yoongi answered, trying hard to keep his tone void of the amusement that was bubbling inside of him.

Jimin settled a bit at the answer, the wrinkles in the center of his forehead smoothing out and a short exhale escaping through his nose. He tilted his chin down, turning his eyes to his computer screen for a few minutes before looking back up at Yoongi.

“Would you still date me if I was a worm?” he whispered, voice thick and watery and uncharacteristically timid.

“Baby, if you were a worm, I would put you in my pocket and take you everywhere with me, and I would search near and far for the finest apples for you to eat, and I would make you a little worm bed so you could sleep right next to me without me squishing you,” Yoongi answered, his sincerity clear even if the scenario bordered on absurd. “Yes, I would still date you if you were a worm.”

That managed to coax a smile out of Jimin, even his eyes lit up ever so slightly, and Yoongi couldn’t help but offer a wide smile in return. Jimin reached out one of his hands, opening and closing his fists until Yoongi got the message and leaned down to kiss him. Once Yoongi was within reach, Jimin grabbed at the fabric of his shirt and pulled him down he rest of the way.

“Thank you,” Jimin said, a small smile still present of his lips as they pulled away from the kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“You wish,” Jimin answered, eyes narrowing with playful suspicion.

Time paused for a moment as their eyes held each other. Jimin’s expression morphed slowly, shifting into something that was filled with a strange mixture of adoration and longing. Yoongi reached out to cup one of Jimin’s cheeks in the palm of his hand, and Jimin leaned into the touch, smiling fondly.

“You seem tired,” Yoongi said quietly, concern edging into his tone “do you want me to run you a bath after dinner?”

“Yes, please,” Jimin answered immediately. “That would be amazing. It’s been a long week at work.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi cooed, his thumb brushing over Jimin’s cheekbone in a soothing fashion.

Jimin hummed a confirmation in response, his eyes closing briefly as relaxed under the touch. The exhaustion was still present, clear even in the way his body held itself, but it was softened, lulled by the gentle touch and promise of a hot bath. “I’ll tell you about it over dinner.”

Yoongi leaned down to kiss the top of his head, lips lingering for a few moments longer than necessary before he reluctantly pulled away. He was heading back to the kitchen, concern still whirling around in his head when Jimin spoke again, effectively distracting him entirely.

“Do you know what you’re gonna wear when we get dinner with my mom on Sunday?”

——

It was over a month later before Yoongi even thought of the conversation again. He was running late, coffee cup tilted all the way back as he ignored the way the bitter drink burned his throat the entire way down. He set the empty cup down in the sink and grabbed his car keys off of the kitchen counter.

“Babe, I gotta leave for work,” Yoongi called, practically jogging across the room to hastily pull on his shoes. They were tied to loose, the integrity of his knots compromised by his rushed pace, but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to retie them. He’d fix it after he was clocked in.

Based off the silence that filled the room, Yoongi assumed Jimin didn’t hear him. Yoongi hadn’t seen him all morning, they each slept in their separate rooms the night before, but he knew he was awake because the coffee was already fully brewed and waiting by the time Yoongi had stumbled into the kitchen, tripping over his own feet in his hurry. The granola bar sitting at the top of Yoongi’s bag was further prove. It had been waiting for him on the counter, right next to his keys, as if Jimin already knew Yoongi was running late and would have settled on a too hot cup of coffee for breakfast if not for Jimin’s foresight and care.

Yoongi hurried over to Jimin’s bedroom door, his shoes sliding ever so slightly against the back of his ankles with every step. “Baby,” he called again, stopping just in front of Jimin’s door, “I’m about to head out.” He waited a moment, two, three, and then knocked on the door using only the knuckle on his middle finger.

It was only another moment before the door opened, only it didn’t open all the way. It was cracked just enough for Jimin to stick his head out. He looked a bit breathless, cheeks and neck flushed but the rest of his body was covered by the door.

“Hi, sorry, I know you’re running late for work,” Jimin rushed out all at once, his words breathy and nearly as frantic as Yoongi felt.

“It’s fine,” Yoongi answered, shaking his head slightly to dismiss Jimin’s concern. He leaned in to kiss him, a short peck goodbye that Jimin returned with ease. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Jimin said, still a bit breathless.

“You wish,” Yoongi called back as he began to walk down the hallway. He pulled out his phone to check the time, he was only going to be about five minutes late, but that was dependent on traffic not being unreasonably terrible and that was never a safe bet to make. He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he contemplated calling to let them know he’d be a few minutes later.

“Hyung,” Jimin’s voice carried through the hallway. His voice was soft, but it carried more volume since the only sound accompanying it was quick footsteps. Yoongi stopped immediately, turning to see Jimin still lingering in the doorway, head peeking out from behind a still mostly closed door. “Never mind,” Jimin said quickly, shaking his head and turning his eyes down to the floor. “You’re already late. I’m sorry. I love you.”

Yoongi hesitated for only a moment, the loudest part of him urging him to keep walking, to hurry down to his car and get to work as quickly as possible. He could always check in with Jimin later, even call him during his break if he didn’t want to wait until they both got home at the end of the day. Instead, he forced himself to pause, to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground as he chose his next step.

Jimin’s anxiety was obvious now that Yoongi wasn’t being consumed by his own. His cheeks were burning brighter than before, his gaze shifting from the ground to Yoongi, not settling any one place for too long. The air in the hallways was thick, heavy with unspoken tension that weighed over the small space.

“Work can wait,” Yoongi said decisively, pushing his phone back into his pocket. “What do you need, my love?”

He watched as Jimin’s eyes widened slightly, as the tips of his ears tinged red. “I, um… I just… I…” Jimin stumbled over the words, eventually giving up and letting out a heavy puff of air. His expression settled into one of frustration, his mouth set in a hard line and eyes squeezing firmly shut.

Yoongi couldn’t help himself. He closed the distance between them in two long strides, standing only an arms distance away from the door that was still hiding most of Jimin’s body. “Take your time, baby,” Yoongi reassured softly, making the intention choice to ignore the nagging in the pit of his stomach that was urging him to leave. “I’m right here.”

At his encouragement, Jimin managed to pause. His eyes stayed shut as he inhaled deeply, held it for a beat, and breathed out a long, shaky exhale. Then, with painstaking care, Jimin ever so slowly opened the door further, stepping out from behind it just enough for Yoongi to take in the sight of him completely.

Yoongi’s eyes trailed over him, taking in every inch as they made their way down his outfit. He had on a sundress, one with loose, flowy sleeves that hung just on the edges of his shoulder and a deep square neckline that settled below his collarbones. The fabric was a pale, cream color with small bouquets of pink and yellow flowers scattered across it. The dress fit his frame beautifully, hanging only a bit too loosely at his chest before cinching around his waist and the fanning out over his hips and thighs. The fabric cut off just above his knees, thin horizontal lines decorating the hem.

Jimin’s arms wrapped around his own waist, obscuring Yoongi’s view, and his head hung low, chin tucked against his chest so Yoongi couldn’t see his expression, only the light brown locks that sat on top of his head.

“You look amazing,” Yoongi breathed out. He found himself a bit speechless, struggling to find the words to describe just out beautiful the man standing in front of him looked. “You look incredible baby, absolutely breathtaking.”

Jimin weight shifted from one foot to another, his head lifted ever so slightly, just enough for him to peek up at Yoongi through his eyelashes. “Really?” he asked quietly, apprehension clear in his tone. “It looks okay?”

“Baby, are you kidding me?” Yoongi started, the words beginning to flow a bit easier now. “Have you seen yourself? You look… good is an understatement. Ethereal. Awe-inspiring. Gorgeous, my love, absolutely gorgeous.” He paused, taking a moment to look him over once more, soaking in every detail of he could. “Will you spin for me?”

Jimin head shot up immediately, something Yoongi could only describe as shock written all over his face. Yoongi held out a hand, palm up, silently in offering. Jimin stood there, seemingly frozen in place, as he stared at Yoongi’s outstretched hand. Then, slowly, with little more certainty or confidence than that of a wounded animal, Jimin uncurled one of his arms from around his body and lightly placed his hand on top of Yoongi’s.

Yoongi placed his thumb on top of Jimin’s fingers and lifted their joined hands, moving at a glacial pace, giving Jimin time to adjust ever second of the way. Once their hands hung in the air above their heads, Jimin took the smallest step forward, carefully unraveling his arm from around his waist and lifting himself onto the balls of his feet. He started with slow, hesitant steps, Yoongi’s hand guiding him as he began to move. It took a few moments, but soon enough he was moving fluidly, twirling in a circle just quickly enough for the skirt of his dress to flare up and billow around him.

Yoongi couldn’t contain his smile, he grinned widely as he watched Jimin’s effortlessly graceful movement, completely entranced by his beauty. Too soon Jimin stilled, still balancing himself on the balls of his feet as the dress fell back into place around him, and Yoongi pulled him forward, his free hand winding around Jimin’s waist to hold him close enough that their chest were pressed together.

“You look beautiful, my love,” Yoongi said softly.

Jimin eyes were shining brightly now, the faintest hint of a blush still coloring his cheeks. He smiled, just wide enough for Yoongi to see his tongue peeking out from between his teeth, and wrapped both arms around Yoongi neck. “Thank you,” he answered, voice thick with gratitude. “Now go to work, I’ve already made you late enough.”

“It was worth it to see you in that pretty dress,” Yoongi murmured back, making a show of leaning back just enough that his eyes could begin to trail down Jimin’s body again.

Jimin giggled, light and airy, and unwound his arms so he could playfully slap Yoongi’s chest, his hand doing little more than lightly tapping him in reality. “Go,” he said again, “I’ll see you when you get home tonight.”

Yoongi hummed a begrudging surrender and leaned down to kiss him goodbye. “I love you,” Yoongi said, kissing him once more before pulling away.

“I love you more.”

“You wish, gorgeous.”

Jimin giggled again and lightly pushed Yoongi towards the door, telling him to drive safely and have a good day at work. He followed him to the end of the hallway, blowing him one last kiss as Yoongi closed the front door behind him.

It wasn’t until Yoongi was halfway to work, music playing low on the radio, empty granola bar wrapper on the seat next to him, that Yoongi remembered their conversation from weeks earlier. It was a brief, fleeting thought, one that Yoongi hardly paid any mind to and has nearly forgotten about by the time he was pulling into the parking lot at work, the thought that Jimin would be an absolutely beautiful girl.

——

They didn’t talk about that morning, Yoongi never got the chance to ask about the dress, where Jimin got it, how he felt about it, nor did he get another opportunity to rave about just how beautiful Jimin looked in it. He had tried to bring it up later that day casually, the beginning of an attempted nonchalant comment escaping his mouth before Jimin interrupted him, waving off whatever he was about to say and changing the subject.

Now summer was just beginning to roll in, the temperature seeming to climb by the day. Yoongi was sure they’d give in and turn the AC on for the first time this year before the week was over.

Yoongi’s eyes burned from the long hours he had spent staring at his computer screen, the blue light was beginning to give him a migraine, which was what finally prompted him to to shut down his desktop and head to bed. It was just past 2am and Jimin had gone to bed hours ago. They both reluctantly agreed it was best for them to sleep in their own rooms tonight considering the fact that Yoongi was going to be up half the night working and Jimin’s first alarm was going to go off at 6am, but now that it was actually time for Yoongi to retire for the night, the idea of not sleeping next to Jimin was annoying at best.

By the time Yoongi had finished his bedtime routine, teeth brushed, face washed, and now stripped down to only his boxers, he had reasoned that he could easily fall back asleep after Jimin’s alarms went off in a few hours. Besides, even if they did wake him up it gave him the opportunity to send Jimin off with a few sleepy kisses and murmured words of encouragement before he started his day.

Yoongi padded barefoot down the hallway, not bothering to knock before carefully, quietly opening the door to Jimin’s room. The room was illuminates just enough, thanks to the streetlight shining through the open window and a small nightlight in the corner of the room, for Yoongi to see Jimin sleeping soundly on the bed. He walked across the room and pulled the blanket back so he could climb in behind him, careful not to move to quickly and disturb Jimin from his sleep.

His eyes landed on the outfit Jimin was wearing, a pale white nightgown that was decorated with yellow moons and stars. It looked comfortable, fitting his frame loosely and riding up so it pooled around his upper thigh. It was new, or at least it was Yoongi’s first time seeing it. There had been a few new additions to Jimin’s closet over the last several weeks, mostly leggings, t-shirts that cut off at his waist line, long, flowy cardigans. Yoongi always made sure to douse Jimin heavily in compliments when he saw him in something new, stopping whatever he was doing to spend a few minutes telling Jimin how amazing he looked until Jimin was giggling and shushing him.

He made a mental note to tell Jimin how pretty the nightgown was the next morning as he laid down next to him. He wrapped his arm securely around Jimin’s waist, pulling him slightly so his back was pressed flushed against Yoongi’s chest. Jimin squirmed in his sleep, moving impossibly closer, one of his hands coming to lay on top of Yoongi’s that was resting against his stomach and pressing down, a silent, sleepy request to be held tighter.

The exhaustion seemed to hit in it’s entirety the second Yoongi closed his eyes. With his face arm wrapped tightly around the love of his life and his face buried in his hair, Yoongi fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

He woke up hours later to the quiet shuffling of blankets and a distinct lack of Jimin in his arms. He whined, still half asleep, out stretching one of his arms in hopes of finding Jimin so he could pull him back.

“I just went to the bathroom, hyung,” Jimin whispered, amusement obvious even in his hushed tone. “I’m not leaving yet.”

Yoongi rolled over onto his back, cracking his eyes open just enough to see the sun hadn’t reached the horizon quite yet. “Time is it?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

“Bout 4,” Jimin answered. Yoongi felt the bed dip beside him and soon enough Jimin was pressed against his side, his head resting on Yoongi’s chest and his arm thrown over his middle. Yoongi wrapped his arm around him, running a hand up and down his back before it dipped under his nightgown and landed on his butt. He could feel where the fabric cut off under his palm, and he squeezed, fingers digging into the fat of his flesh appreciatively. “Quit it,” Jimin chastised playfully, giggles bubbling up from his chest.

Yoongi smiled sleepily, not bothering to open his eyes as he slid his hand upwards. His fingers trailing across the bare skin on Jimin’s back as he started to slowly fade back into sleep. Jimin shifted, sliding one of his legs over Yoongi’s and readjusting so more of his body weight was resting on his chest. “Hyung,” Jimin whispered, waiting until Yoongi gave a low hum in response before continuing. “I’m wearing panties.”

Yoongi hummed again, a quiet acknowledgment, as he struggled to will his mouth to move. “I noticed,” he managed to mumble out, trying to coax as much affection as he could manage into his tone.

It was quiet for a moment, and Yoongi focused on the feeling of Jimin’s skin underneath his fingertips. He drew mindless patterns across the expanse of his back, the constant movement managing to keep him awake even as sleep clouded his mind, his thoughts slow and foggy.

“Do you think it’s weird?” Jimin whispered again, the words barely more than a breath of air and Yoongi was sure he wouldn’t have heard them if the room weren’t dead silent.

“Course not,” Yoongi murmured back, his tongue heavy in his mouth. “Think they’re cute,” he continued, “sexy.”

A heavy stillness settled over the space, and Yoongi found that his eyelids were too heavy to open, his body firmly resisting regardless of his desire to see Jimin’s face.

Jimin broke the silence, shifting slightly, the weight of his head suddenly removed from Yoongi’s chest though his limbs were still strewn over him. “You think they’re sexy?”

“Mhm,” Yoongi hummed back, “your ass looks good in them.”

Jimin giggles echoed through the room, breathy and light. “You can’t even see my ass,” he said. The corners of Yoongi’s mouth curled up slightly at Jimin’s teasing tone, the best attempt at a smile his body could manage.

“Couple weeks ago,” Yoongi tried to explain, his hand stilling, palm pressing against the small of Jimin’s back as he focused his energy on mumbling the barely comprehensible words out. “I was brushing my teeth when you were getting in the shower, saw you in the mirror.” He paused to yawn, his entire body sinking deeper into the bed as he exhaled. “The blue ones, with the lace.”

Another pause, just for a moment, and then he felt Jimin’s nose press against his jawline, nuzzling in an affectionate sort of way that coaxed a quiet, content hum from Yoongi’s lips. “These are yellow,” Jimin whispered, now close enough that Yoongi could feel his breath fan across his skin as he spoke.

“Pretty,” Yoongi whispered back, his lips barely moving, body unwilling to cooperate with his desire to speak. “Matches your nightgown.”

Jimin let out a short puff of air, an emotion Yoongi was too tired to place present in it. Yoongi’s body only relaxed further at the breath, his mind going blank as sleep began to claim him. He felt a soft, lingering kiss press against his jaw, and then the grounding, pleasant weight of Jimin’s head returned to his chest.

“Hyung,” Jimin whispered again and Yoongi hummed. He drifted in and out of consciousness, not entirely sure Jimin’s voice hadn’t simply carried over into his dreams. “Would you still date me if I was a girl worm?”

“Course I would, baby,” Yoongi heard himself say, mouth seeming to move on its own accord as his consciousness slipped like sand through his fingertips, “Mm‘d have the prettiest worm girlfriend in the whole world.”

——

The low hum of the air conditioner filled the apartment as Yoongi finished fastening the final few buttons of his shirt. He had to admit the loose fitting shirt that Jimin had dragged out of the depths of his closet looked good on him, even if Jimin did nearly stumbled upon his anniversary present in the process of finding it. Yoongi had tried to insist that there was nothing in that particular corner of his closet worth fishing out, but Jimin caught sight of the pink, patterned fabric and latched onto it immediately. It only took one look at Yoongi’s face and a few short moments of processing for Jimin to recognize his boyfriend’s panic and burst into fond laughter. He insisted that if Yoongi had simply told him his anniversary present was back there he would have steered clear of that area, but Yoongi argued that the point of hiding it was so that Jimin wouldn’t know where it was. Yoongi was still contemplating if it was worth finding a new hiding spot for the gift. His car might work better, but their anniversary was only about a week away so moving it now might be more trouble than it was worth.

Still, he contemplated the logistics of it as he walked down the hallway, sock-clad feet stopping in front of the open bathroom door. “You about ready, baby?” he asked, fingers gripping the door frame to keep himself balanced as he leaned his head in.

Jimin stood in front of the sink, fiddling with the buttons on his cuffs. He was wearing a flowy, long sleeved black shirt with a deep v-neckline that nearly reached his bellybutton and tight black jeans. Yoongi didn’t know if he could stop himself from staring if he wanted to.

“Uh huh,” Jimin answered, a small nod further emphasizing his confirmation. “I just need to brush my teeth.” He looked over at Yoongi, hands falling to his side as he took a moment to quite obviously check out the man in front of him. “God you’re hot,” he breathed out, almost as if he were talking to himself, and Yoongi’s laughter echoed through the small space.

Yoongi could feel his cheeks flush, not only at the compliment, but at the sheer sincerity in which it was said. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to Jimin looking at him this way, eyes blown wide, lips parted slightly, staring as if he were in awe of the sight in front of him. It made something warm and tingly pool in his core, a cross between arousal and butterflies, the feeling of being desired, wanted, loved.

“Says the man who looks like a walking piece of art,” Yoongi said, and even he could hear his own sheepishness bleed into his tone. He walked into the bathroom and took Jimin’s left hand into his own before stepping behind him to do the same with his right. “Seriously, have you looked in the mirror yet?” he asked, lifting both of their joined hands as they stood directly in front of the mirror, Yoongi’s body mostly hidden behind Jimin’s. The position showcased Jimin’s outfit perfectly, the way the fabric hung off his shoulders, fitting loosely around his arms before securing around his wrists, how it draped over his torso, sleek and just form fitting enough to show off his figure without being tight. “You look incredible, baby.”

Yoongi watched in the mirror as Jimin’s eyes roamed over himself. He could practically trace their path as they scanned over his arms and followed the neckline of shirt, hesitating at the bare skin of his chest on their way back up. “Thank you,” Jimin said, a small, pleased smile settling on his lips. “I keep feeling like it’s missing something though”

Yoongi hummed thoughtfully. Part of him, most of him, wanted to disagree, to say that Jimin already looked absolutely perfect, but he knew that would be neither helpful nor wanted in the present moment. So he resisted the urge, instead taking the moment to simply admire him. “Your red lipstick would go well with this outfit,” he thought out loud.

In all honesty, he hardly considered the words before he said them. They slipped out almost carelessly as his eyes lingered on Jimin’s lips and the memory of the cherry red lipstick he’d occasionally worn around the house in the past few weeks came to mind. He only really, fully registered them when Jimin froze at the comment. His body went completely rigid, and when his eyes locked with Yoongi’s in the mirror there was a guarded expression on his face that Yoongi wasn’t use to being on the receiving end of.

“We’re going out with your friends,” Jimin said slowly, carefully. His expression was almost unreadable, clearly tense, but giving away no obvious emotion. Yoongi, however, could read the discomfort over every inch of his body language, in his set jaw, his tense shoulders, his pupils moving ever so slightly as they watched Yoongi, quick and calculating and never missing a thing.

“We are,” Yoongi agreed, equally as slowly. His eyes didn’t leave Jimin’s as he moved, hands slipping out his boyfriend’s so he could wrap both arms around his waist. He bent slightly to rest his chin on Jimin’s shoulder, holding him securely as he held his silent gaze through the mirror. “Tell me what I’m missing, my love,” Yoongi said quietly.

Even if Jimin’s discomfort was obvious to him, Yoongi still struggled to connect all of the pieces to know exactly what was causing it. His mind gave a thousand possibilities, but he recognized his own judgement was clouded by anxiety, the potential of having said something to upset Jimin causing his own nervousness to bubble up, and he didn’t want to move from his own skewed assumptions. So he waited, even as the air felt heavy and Jimin remained taut in his arms.

When Jimin did move, it was slow, hesitant, his own arms coming to rest over Yoongi’s. He relaxed slightly, his weight shifting back onto his heels as he leaned against Yoongi’s chest with more certainty. The air conditioner shut off elsewhere in the house and the room was filled with only the sound of their quiet, steady breathing as the threads of anxiety slowly untangled themselves.

“Do you think I look pretty with lipstick on?” Jimin asked in a hushed tone. His head was tilted down slightly, obscuring his expression from Yoongi’s view. He ran his palms up and down Yoongi’s bare arms as he spoke, the gentle touch sending a pleasant thrum through Yoongi’s body.

“I think you look beautiful with lipstick on,” Yoongi answered truthfully. He kept his voice low, aware of the fact his mouth was only inches away from Jimin’s ear. “But I always think you look beautiful.”

Yoongi could just barely see the corner of Jimin’s mouth twitch, the remnants of something too sad to be considered a proper smile, and Yoongi’s heart ached in his chest. In moment like this he wished, almost desperately, that he could read Jimin’s mind. He’d do just about anything to know what was happening in his head, to know exactly where the wound was so he could soothe it.

“What would your friends think?” Jimin asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Yoongi eyebrows furrowed a bit at the question, slightly surprised that the answer didn’t seem to be as obviously apparent to Jimin as it was to himself. “Baby, they would think you look gorgeous,” Yoongi answered quietly, sincerely. “Of course they would because you do, you are.” He paused, readjusting himself so he could stand up straighter and lean forward just enough to press a soft kiss against Jimin’s cheek. “Is that what your worried about?”

Jimin sighed, moving in a way that prompted Yoongi to loosen his hold without letting go completely. He twisted so he was facing him, both his arms coming up to rest on Yoongi’s shoulders, his hands clasped loosely behind Yoongi’s neck. He raised himself up onto his toes and leaned forward to close the distance between them.

Yoongi’s hands pressed against the small of Jimin’s back, pulling him closer as their lips met. The kiss was unhurried, long and lingering, and they are both visibly more relaxed by the time they pulled away. “If I wear lipstick I won’t be able to kiss you,” Jimin whispered. He hardly pulled back an inch, still close enough that Yoongi could feel his breath ghost over his skin when spoke.

“Why’s that?” Yoongi murmured back. He brushed their noses together, a small, playful action.

“I’d get lipstick all over you,” Jimin answered. Yoongi could feel Jimin’s smile more than he could see it, could hear it in his tone, recognize it in his eyes even as they lingered on Yoongi’s lips. Yoongi moved first this time, catching Jimin’s lips in another kiss, slow and sweet.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he whispered, bottom lip bumping against Jimin’s as he spoke. He could feel Jimin’s hands in his hair, fingernails scratching against the nape of his neck, and the touch sent a shiver down his spine.

Jimin hummed thoughtfully and kissed him again before pulling back, just enough for Yoongi be able to see his face properly. “What if I wore lipgloss?”

Yoongi’s nose scrunched up as he remembered the sticky residue that Jimin’s lipgloss would leave on his lips when they kissed. It wasn’t so much that he minded the way it transferred, the problem was it was almost impossible to get off. If Yoongi tried to use his hand to wipe it away, not only would the lipgloss remain on his lips, his hand would also have a thin smear of tacky, clear gloss on it. Jimin at the look on his face, very much aware of Yoongi’s dilemma. There had been multiple times when Jimin would kiss Yoongi while he was wearing lipgloss and then watch with obvious amusement as Yoongi tried, and failed, to lick or wipe away the substance that was left behind.

“It still be worth it to kiss you,” Yoongi said decisively.

Jimin’s bright smile remained on his lips, all of his previous discomfort seeming to have vanished as he unclasped his hands from behind Yoongi’s neck and dragged them down to his chest. He kissed Yoongi one more time, sweet and teasing as his tongue brushed against the seam of Yoongi’s lips, and Yoongi was quick to chase after it. When they finally, begrudgingly, pulled away, Jimin pressed his flat palms against Yoongi’s chest, pushing lightly with no real force behind it. “I still want to brush my teeth,” Jimin said. “And if you stay in here much longer I’m not gonna let you leave.”

Yoongi grinned, biting back a comment about how he’s be more than okay with that because he knew that they really did need to leave soon. So instead he conceded, kissing Jimin on the cheek one last time before stepping back. “I’ll wait for you in the living room, babe.”

By the time Jimin walked out of the bathroom, looking perfectly put together with a subtle, clear gloss coating his lips, Yoongi was ready to walk out the door, shoes on and keys in his hand. It didn’t take them long to leave after that, only a few minutes later than originally planned. They didn’t manage to make it as far as the car before Yoongi was futilely trying to lick away peach-flavored sticky residue from his mouth while Jimin’s giggles danced around them.

——

Retrospectively, Yoongi would have handled the conversation differently, or at the very least, he would have initiated the conversation differently. He would have been more careful with his words, more aware of the fact that he’d slipped into a bad habit of speaking before his brain caught up when he was around Jimin. It happened quickly, and while Yoongi wasn’t at all surprised by the conversation, he wasn’t expecting it to happen on that day, in the way that it did.

It was a deceptively mundane Sunday in the middle of August, one that fell on a rare weekend where there were no household chores to be done and no errands to run. Yoongi sat cross-legged on the couch, the first movie of their marathon cued up and ready on the Tv in front of him as he read a text on his phone. Jimin’s quiet footsteps announced his presence as he walked up to the couch.

“Hyung,” Jimin called softly.

Yoongi glanced up to see Jimin holding a cup of coffee, Yoongi’s second cup of the day, out to him. He smiled gratefully, still a bit distracted by what he was reading as he reached out to take it from him. “Thank you, babygirl,” he said, eyes returning to the message in front of him. It only took split-second for him to register what he had said, to hear the unfamiliar term of endearment that had slipped out of his mouth, and as soon as he did he cringed silently at himself. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he rushed to say, text now forgotten as his phone dropped onto his lap. “I shouldn’t have-”

Yoongi stopped suddenly when he saw Jimin’s expression. He was standing so still Yoongi was sure he was holding his breath, his jaw was clenched tight and his eyes were wet and glassy, filled with tears that threatened to spill over any moment. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry,” Yoongi said. He barely registered the sound of his phone hitting the floor as he stood up quickly, placing his coffee on the table in front of them in the process. “I’m sorry, my love. I should have been more careful with my words.”

“No,” Jimin interrupted, shaking his head in protest. “It’s not that. It’s not you,” he continued. His voice shook as he spoke and he tilted his chin up, looking to the ceiling in an obvious yet futile attempt to not to cry. “It’s just…” Jimin stopped suddenly, pursing his lips to quiet himself. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and tears rolled down his. “Hyung,” he whined, his voice thick with emotions. His chest shook as a barely contained sob wracked through his body and Yoongi felt the residual heartbreak echo in his own chest.

“I’m right here, baby,” Yoongi answered, trying his best to sound reassuring. He took Jimin’s face between his hands and his thumbs wiped away the tears that clung to his cheeks. Jimin opened his eyes and looked at Yoongi with the saddest expression Yoongi had ever seen on his face. He looked so timid, eyes wide and tear-filled and his bottom lip trembling. Yoongi could feel his own frown deepen at the sight. “You’re okay, you’re safe,” Yoongi said softly. “I’m right here. Can you tell me what happened, hmm? What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

His words triggered a fresh of tears that rolled down Jimin’s cheek and Yoongi wiped them away gently. That question had never failed to at least draw a hint of a smile from Jimin, so the fact that this time it seemed to only make him cry more had Yoongi’s heart sinking into his stomach.

“What if,” Jimin started, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his still unspoken words were heavy in his tone, and Yoongi felt his breath still in his lungs as he watched helplessly as Jimin tried to push out words that seemed too daunting to voice. “What if I’m a girl?”

There was an almost unbearable stillness for a moment, two as Yoongi processed the words. He couldn’t be certain, but Yoongi was fairly sure that his expression didn’t change a bit. The same mixture of emotions remained: concern, love, anxiety, adoration, worry, care. He spoke softly, his voice nearly as quiet as Jimin’s, but still filled with certainty and tenderness. “Then you’re a girl, baby.”

Jimin broke instantly. His entire body shook as a loud sob escaped from his chest. His face crumbled, tears pouring down his cheeks as he cried desperately. He took the smallest step towards Yoongi, looking almost unsure of what to do with himself, and Yoongi was quick to pull him into his arms.

“Come here, I’ve got you,” Yoongi murmured. Jimin stumbled forward until he was pressed securely against Yoongi, both his arms wrapped around Yoongi’s middle as he pressed his face against his chest and continued to sob. “You’re okay, my love. You’re gonna be okay, I’m right here.”

Yoongi held him, whispering soft reassurances and pressing occasional kisses again the crown of his head. He scratched small circles against Jimin’s scalp with blunt fingernails and kept him pressed tightly against him, doing everything he knew to in hopes of providing comfort. Jimin seemed almost inconsolable. His entire body shook from the intensity of his crying, broken sobs and wails echoed through the room, blaring and heartbreaking despite the fact they were muffled.

Still, Yoongi held him firmly, only moving to maneuver them onto the couch when Jimin swayed on his feet. A constant stream of murmured comforts poured from his lips. Softly spoken reminders that Jimin was perfect, that Yoongi loved him, that he was safe here, in their apartment, in Yoongi’s arms, in the haze of their devotion to each other.

By the time Jimin began to settle, Yoongi’s coffee had long gone cold. Jimin lay half on top of him with his face buried in the crook of Yoongi’s neck, only the occasional sniffle and stray tears escaping him. Yoongi’s hand was under his shirt, rubbing up and down his back soothingly. They sat in a fragile, precarious silence that felt too precious for Yoongi to break. So he waited, heart a little too heavy with concern and shirt stained with tears, content to simply hold Jimin while his shaky breathing began to even out.

“‘M sorry,” Jimin whispered eventually, his voice unsteady and hoarse from crying. He pulled away slightly, just enough to dislodge himself from corner he had taken refuge in between Yoongi’s shoulder and the couch, and wiped at his wet cheeks.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Yoongi answered quietly. Carefully, to keep from shifting too suddenly, he reached behind him to grab the box of tissues that were sitting on the small table pressed against the couch. He balanced the box next to his thigh and used a few tissues to wipe away the tears that still clung to Jimin’s cheeks.

“Got your shirt wet,” Jimin mumbled in response. There was a devastating sadness in his tone as he pouted down at Yoongi’s shirt, bottom lip jutted out as he stared pointedly at the wet patch of fabric around his collar.

Yoongi only hummed as he grabbed another tissue to wipe Jimin’s nose clean. “I don’t mind one bit,” he answered softly. “You know that.” He cleaned Jimin’s face almost tediously, gently pressing Kleenex against his skin and then letting the tear and snot stained tissues fall to the floor in a small pile. When he was finished he brushed Jimin’s hair off his forehead and paused to look at him, taking in his bloodshot eyes and red, puffy cheeks. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Jimin mumbled under his breath, quiet enough that Yoongi had to strain to hear him even in the quiet room, “but I think I need to.” He made no motion to move for a few moments, then eventually pushed himself up with a huff and readjusted so that he could sit in front of Yoongi properly.

Yoongi moved as well, tucking his feet under his legs as he sat up to give Jimin more room. Once they were both seated comfortably, Yoongi held out his hand, a silent offer that Jimin took immediately. Yoongi rubbed circles against the back of his hand as he waited, deciding it best to let Jimin start the conversation.

Jimin took a long, deep breath and titled his chin up, head falling all the way back so he was staring up directly at the ceiling. “I don’t know how to talk about this,” he started slowly. “The first time I came out it was hard and overwhelming and scary, but I knew, with everything inside of me I knew I wasn’t straight. This time I don’t… know….”

“Okay,” Yoongi said, nodding along despite the fact Jimin couldn’t see him from his current angle.

“I’ve been questioning my gender for a while now,” Jimin continued, each words dragging out slowly, “and I still don’t have any satisfying conclusions.”

Yoongi nodded, pursing his lips as he considered Jimin’s words. After a few moments of weighted silence, he asked, “Do you have any unsatisfying conclusions?”

Even with Jimin’s head tilted backwards he could still see the tentative smile pull at his lips at the question. Jimin nodded, still not looking away from an invisible spot on the ceiling he’d decided to focus on.

“Can I hear them?” Yoongi asked softly. He brought their joined hands up to his mouth and pressed a kiss against the back of Jimin’s hand. “If you’re comfortable sharing.”

Jimin nodded again, a little more firmly this time. His head dropped back down and his eyes found a new spot to focus on, somewhere off in the distance past Yoongi’s head. “I don’t mind being a boy, or a man,” his nose scrunched up in obvious distaste at the word which Yoongi decided against commenting on, “or whatever. It doesn’t bother me or make me feel uncomfortable when people think I’m a boy. I don’t dislike he/him pronouns, or my name, and I think I look really good in masculine clothing. And it feels good on me, usually.” He paused, eyes flickering to Yoongi for just a fraction of a second before returning to their predestined spot. “But I also think I look really pretty in feminine clothing, and I really like the way it feels on me. And I don’t think I would mind people using she/her pronouns for me. And I, apparently, really, really like when you call me ‘babygirl.’”

The room filled with a heavy silence for a moment, two, three as Yoongi processed the words. He took a deep breath, sorting though Jimin’s unsatisfying conclusions in his head and nodding to himself as he began to understand them. “That makes perfect sense to me, my love,” Yoongi said quietly, his own hand squeezing Jimin’s in a silent attempt to reassure him.

Jimin’s head jerked slightly, his eyes moving to meet Yoongi’s gaze with something akin to hopefulness glinting in them. “Really?” Jimin asked, in a small, tentative voice that was barely above a whisper.

“Of course, baby,” Yoongi answered sincerely. “I know you know this,” Yoongi started slowly, carefully piecing together his words as he went, “Because we’ve talked about it, but gender is a spectrum, yeah?” He paused, waiting till he received a small, certain nod of confirmation before continuing, “And it sounds like, maybe, you’re learning and discovering more about where you fall and what feels good for you, and, maybe, what you’re finding out about yourself is a little bit different than what you originally thought.” Yoongi finished slowly, carefully, letting the not quite question hang in the air as his eyes scanned over Jimin’s face.

Jimin’s lips were pursed into a thin, tight line. His eyes stayed wide, never leaving Yoongi’s face as he nodded, a small, barely decipherable movement. “Is that…” Jimin started before trailing off, suddenly looking more and more unsure of himself with each moment that passed. “I’m not… I’m not saying that I’m not a boy or that I feel like I’m a girl,” he paused, staring at Yoongi with enough intensity that Yoongi could practically feel the hurricane of thoughts swirling around his head. “I don’t know yet,” Jimin began again, “but if I’m not… if I’m… would that… would you…?"

The fractured sentence weighed heavy in between them, a certain desperation in Jimin’s eyes as he stared at Yoongi, a silent plea for him to understand, for him to know without Jimin having to say it in so many words. And as Yoongi sat there, in their too silent living room with the sun raised high in the sky and his mind working in overdrive to piece together the fragments he had gathered, it clicked.

The question Jimin was too scared to put words too, the answer he already knew but needed to hear, the reassurance, the promise that they had been dancing around for months that Jimin was waiting for, sitting so still that even in the air in his lungs didn’t dare to move. Yoongi heard it.

“Jimin,” Yoongi started softly, endearment dripping from his tone, “you could be a boy, or a girl, or just about a million other things, and none of it would change how much I love you.” He paused, just long enough to lean forward and bring his free hand up to Jimin’s cheek. He ran his thumb over his cheekbone and Jimin melted under the touch, the tension beginning to seep out of his shoulders as he leaned into the palm of Yoongi’s hand. “None of it would change how in love with you I am, or how attracted I am to you, or how incredibly excited I am to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Jimin’s eyes fell closed, his chest rose and fell with a steadying breath and his hand curled around Yoongi’s knee, grounding them both. When he looked at Yoongi again, his eyes were wet and unfocused and filled with precarious, terrifying hope. “Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Baby,” Yoongi breathed out. He scooted closer, close enough their knees were pressed together and Jimin’s hand moved to his thigh. His own hand settled on the back of Jimin’s neck and gently tugged him forward till their foreheads were pressed against each other. He needed the closeness, the warmth of Jimin’s breath fanning across his face. “Babygirl,” he whispered, barely audible but full of determination. “I love you. I want you. And I’m never going to love you less for being who you are.” He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air for a moment and the sincerity behind them settle in. He had to resist the urge to kiss Jimin senseless, to press him against the couch and keep their lips pressed together until they were both breathless and there wasn’t an ounce of anxiety left in Jimin’s body. Instead, with a playfulness that he wasn’t entirely sure was appropriate, he whispered, “Even if you were a worm.”

Jimin let out a choked laugh, thick and watery and full of emotion. Yoongi could feel the relief in the exhale that followed, all of the still air in Jimin’s lungs finally releasing, and he let himself relax as well, smiling at the sound of Jimin’s joy that was still echoing in his ears.

“God, I love you so fucking much,” Jimin said, and before Yoongi could respond Jimin’s mouth was on his and he was being pushed back down onto the couch. Yoongi barely registered his head hitting the arm of the couch, too consumed by the feeling of Jimin, his hands cradling Yoongi’s face, his mouth moving with seamless, effortless fluidity against his own.

They melted into each other for a moment. Yoongi’s hands dipped under the hem of Jimin’s shirt, fingers splayed across his bare back as he tried to pull him impossible closer. When Jimin pulled away it was only an inch, too close for Yoongi’s eyes to even focus on her properly.

“I knew that,” Jimin said quietly, “I did, I do. I just…”

Yoongi kissed him again, before he could even think about stopping himself, chaste and sweet and reassuring. “I know,” he whispered back. “You don’t need to explain yourself, baby, I know. And I’m always gonna be here to tell you, as many times as you need to hear it, okay?”

“Okay,” Jimin answered, nodding short and quick in a way that made Yoongi smile, overwhelmed by his adoration for the person laying half on top of him. They kissed again, a comforting, familiar promise communicated in the act.

When they pulled away Jimin readjusted himself to lay down properly on top of Yoongi, his own legs slotted between Yoongi’s and his head settling to rest comfortably on his chest. Yoongi repositioned himself as well, sliding them bother further down so his head was supported by a pillow instead of hanging awkwardly on the arm of the couch.

“Can we watch the movie now?” Jimin asked, looking up at Yoongi the best he could without lifting his head. There was more to talk about, longer conversations to be had, this wasn’t the end by any means, it was only a beginning, but they had the rest of their lives to talk. Right now, just like the cold coffee and half-written text on Yoongi’s phone, the conversation could wait.

“Sure,” Yoongi answered, “if you get the remote.”

Jimin giggled and placed the palm of his hand against Yoongi’s chest to brace himself. He pushed up just enough to reach the coffee table and grab the roommate without having to actually get up. He settled back down, both of them taking another minute to get full comfortable, and the pressed play.

Yoongi didn’t think it was possible to be any more in love than he already was, but laying here, in the stillness of their living room, the late summer sun hanging high in the sky, and the opening credits signaling the beginning of their movie marathon, he found himself falling. And maybe it wasn’t more, or deeper. Maybe it was just that seeing Jimin, learning her, watching him become, gave him an opportunity to fall in love all over again.

“I love you,” Jimin murmured.

Yoongi leaned in to kiss the top of her head. “I love you more, baby,” he said, and finally, a bit reluctantly, tore his eyes away from him, relaxing into the couch as he turned towards the Tv.

“You wish.”