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“...And I’m just…not okay. And I don’t know why, exactly. I’m happy with you, hyung. I am so unbelievably happy when I’m with you but when I get home and I’m by myself it’s like all the happiness fades and I’m just numb again.”
The silence makes Jimin uneasy, causing him to shift in discomfort. The tall grass dances around his form and bends to accommodate him as he struggles to lie down in a way that will ease the tension in his body. He knows his efforts are futile, but Yoongi has never gone quiet on him like this before. Jimin keeps his eyes on the night sky above, too afraid to even look at Yoongi, yet he can’t seem to let go of the other’s hand. He hopes the cool air is enough of an excuse for why his fingers are rapidly growing cold, fear and dread climbing up his hands from the fingertips inwards. He clenches a fistful of grass with his free hand, looking for a distraction.
Yoongi squeezes Jimin’s hand, almost tight enough to hurt. It’s the sort of hold that’s as full of love as it is desperation. Jimin shifts his gaze from the stars to his hyung, and his eyes water at what he sees.
His hyung—always kind, always strong—is clenching his jaw so hard that the muscles in his neck are straining. His eyes are closed, as if he’s trying to hide how he feels from Jimin, but the furrow of his brow and the tears slipping down the sides of his face give him away.
Here it is. Jimin’s nightmare come to life.
He’s so mad at me, he can’t even look at me.
“Oh, hyung.” Jimin tries to sit up, but Yoongi quickly pulls him in, and Jimin finds himself lying with his face pressed to Yoongi’s chest, their legs tangled together. Yoongi wraps his arms around Jimin and holds him close, pressing his face into Jimin’s hair.
“I’m sorry, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin mumbles. Yoongi makes a noise of protest, but Jimin shakes his head against his chest. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to scare you or make you worry. I promise I’m okay.”
“It’s good that you told me,” Yoongi murmurs. Jimin goes rigid, confused. Yoongi runs a hand up and down his back soothingly. “It’s okay, Jimin-ah. I’m grateful that you trusted me enough to tell me. I’m so sorry I didn’t notice that you were hurting.”
“Wait,” Jimin says, shuffling around until he has his hands on either side of Yoongi’s shoulders, pushing himself up so he can see Yoongi’s face. “You’re not mad?”
Yoongi blinks up at him, confusion clouding his own features. The tear tracks have dried on his cheeks. “Why on earth would I be mad?”
Jimin just looks down at him helplessly. “Because I–I ruined it. We’ve been so happy since we got together and now I’ve ruined the streak for us.”
“The streak?” Yoongi says, tilting his head to the side.
Jimin fully sits up then, thighs straddling Yoongi’s waist. He brings his hands together, wringing them nervously.
“Everything was going so well. It was almost like something out of a romcom. I dropped that stack of books at the public library and you helped me pick them up, asked me out for coffee and I said yes. Every date we went on was perfect and next thing I know, we’ve been together for almost a year and you’re doing things like taking me home with you here to Daegu to meet your wonderful family and we’re stargazing in your backyard. Everything’s been going so right and now–now–” Jimin’s lower lip trembles. “Now it’s all ruined and I don’t understand why you don’t hate me.”
Jimin doesn’t notice he’s been ripping at the grass with his hands until Yoongi takes them and holds them between his own. “Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says, impossibly gentle. “Look at me, love.”
Jimin looks up at him reluctantly. Yoongi smiles at him softly, reassuringly. “It seems like you were afraid to rock the boat, huh? Everything was picture perfect and you were scared that if you made the wrong move, the image would shatter.”
Jimin purses his lips. “My therapist used to say something like that. That I have issues with conflict because of how my parents raised me. And my upbringing is also why I’m always scared that everyone is mad at me.”
“You’ve gone to therapy?” Yoongi asks, and he says it so kindly that Jimin almost responds with a yes before realizing—
“Therapy? Really, Jimin? How weak are you?”
“I didn’t mean to–I didn’t–I’m not–” Jimin frets, his breathing speeding up.
“Hey,” Yoongi says firmly, hands coming up to cup Jimin’s face. The touch grounds him, and he looks into Yoongi’s eyes and finds no judgment, only love and care. “There’s nothing wrong with going to therapy, okay? It’s not something you should be ashamed of. I see a therapist every couple of months.”
“Really?” Jimin says, surprised. “You never told me.”
Yoongi shrugs. “It never came up.”
Jimin just stares at him, dumbfounded. Jimin thinks about how strong Yoongi is, he’s the strongest person Jimin has ever met but his mother said—
“Eomma said therapy was for weak people.” Jimin mumbles, looking back up when Yoongi snorts.
“I don’t mean to be rude, ‘Min-ah, but your parents don’t seem like very good people. I could tell from how you’d talk about them sometimes.”
Jimin looks down. “I know. But…they’re my parents.”
Yoongi sits up properly and tilts Jimin’s chin up to look at him again. “I understand. But they’re wrong, okay? You need to know that.”
Jimin nods. “I only went to therapy a couple times before they discouraged me from going back, and it was too expensive anyway.”
Yoongi hums. He brings Jimin’s hands up to his face and gives them a loving kiss. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to start seeing your therapist again. Hyung will pay for it. Don’t look at me like that, you know you’d do the same for me. I’m going to talk to mine, see if we can book a couple’s therapy session. I think it’d be good for us. And from now on, whenever you’re struggling, you’re going to tell me, and I’ll tell you when I’m struggling too. Is that okay with you, Minnie?”
Jimin leans forward, resting his forehead against Yoongi’s. “Yeah, hyung. I love you.”
Yoongi smiles widely, his gums showing. He looks radiant in the moonlight.
“I love you too.” Yoongi pecks Jimin on the lips. “And this thing about a happy streak—don’t worry about that. All streaks end eventually. That’s just how life works. There will be times when we’re happy and there will be times when we’re not. And that’s okay. What matters is that we face it all together. Besides, is it really a happy streak if you’re secretly struggling?”
“No, it’s not,” Jimin admits. He moves to sit on Yoongi’s lap, cuddling close. Yoongi rests his chin on top of Jimin’s head as he winds his arms around him.
“Thank you, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin mumbles into his hoodie. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.”
Yoongi laughs quietly. “I think you’re talking about yourself there, love.”
Jimin grumbles. “Don’t start.”
“But you are the best boyfriend in the world, ‘Min–”
“You are the best boyfriend in the world, hyung. I said what I said. Now be quiet and let me nap or I’ll throw you into that pond over there.”
Yoongi laughs again. “Okay, baby. I can’t let you damage my halmeoni’s precious koi fish pond, though I’ll take any excuse to have you and your ripped arms carry me around bridal style, you know that.”
“Hyung!” Jimin exclaims, scandalized.
“What? I said what I said.”
Jimin’s giggles echo into the night, mingling with the call of the birds and the hum of the cicadas. He looks up into Yoongi’s eyes and feels himself warm up from the love and adoration pooling in them.
Jimin beams back at him.
Yoongi might be the best boyfriend in the world, but Jimin knows he’s the luckiest.