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Chapter Text

Introduction

This is my first time writing something and it's storyline is lil bit inspired by the TV Drama I liked watching and I wanted to write Yoonmin version of it.

Let's start with character introduction.

1. Min Yoongi.

He is 29 year old whose life is dedicated to business and music.
He is the ruthless business tycoon and known for youngest bachelor billionaire. He appears cold because of his stern face and his habit of speaking only when necessary but is too protective and ready to do anything for his family.

2. Park Jimin.

He is 25 year old whose life is dedicated to his parents and small shop he works at.
He is fun loving and sassy and when needed becomes too protective of thier loved ones.
He holds a secret which only Tae and his family knows.

3. Jeon Jungkook.

He is 27 years old who works as
Yoongi secretary and as his close friend.
He may be oblivious sometimes but he is a fun loving person and loves to play games and going on adventure trips.

4. Kim Taehyung

He is 25 years old who works under Jimin shop and as his best friend.
He is breathtaking beautiful and loves to dress up as if going to fashion show.
He is nice, bubbly and cheerful.

5. Kim Seokjin

He is 31 years old and is Yoongi elder brother.

6. Jung Hoseok

He is 26 years old and is Jimin brother.

7. Kim Namjoon

He is 32 years old and is Yoongi business partner and close friend too.

8. Jimin's cousin - Sara and Myunhee

A little explanation to the plot-

Yoongi lives alone even though he wants his mother and elder brother to live together with him. They don't talk with him because they think Yoongi was the reason their father is dead.

Jimin lives with his family and respects his parents. He is somewhat close with his brother and doesn't get along with his other cousins.

I am new to writing so if there's any fault please do tell and apologies in advance for any mistake.

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

It was just another busy day. Cafés filled with chatter, buses honked in the distance, and the streets buzzed with movement. Still, there was something in the air that felt different.

Jimin was getting ready to go out and open his shop. It was the only thing that made his mind at peace and helped him to go through his day.

After 20 minutes of walking he reached his shop and sorted out things to open it properly for customers.

He had a small food catering shop with bakery attached to it. Most of the catering work was done by Mr Hyun (son of owner of the shop).

He was mostly responsible for bakery shop as he made best muffin and choco lava cake. But if required he sometimes helped Mr Hyun too in catering business.

He was making the batter for muffins to bake fresh muffins for the day. He had just placed the tray in the oven and set the timer when his phone rang.

Mr Hyun- Jimin can you help me in catering order today we got a large consignment and I have something important to attend so I can't make it today.

I will pay you double today since it's a huge order to fulfill and I trust you to do it perfectly because you are our one of the best employee.

Jimin - Okay Mr Hyun I will do it. Just tell me what I have to prepare and where I have to deliver it. I will do it no issues.

After 10 minutes oven made a noise signalling that muffin are ready. He made them ready on the counter for sale and then called Tae to tell him that he will have to go out for catering.

Jimin - Tae can you run the shop yourself for sometime. I have to go for food catering today because Mr Hyun can't make it.

Tae - Okay go out. I will handle the shop till you are gone.

He started preparing for the catering and after four hours of continuous cooking
he cooked traditional Korean dishes, ranging from Bibimbap to Galbi, filling the kitchen with rich aromas.

He packed everything nicely for delivery and set up the GPS on phone to reach location on time and went out on his bike for delivery.

After thirty minutes of riding, he arrived at the destination—an old age home.
He went there with his packed meals and saw Jungkook standing there. He passed on the prepared meals to him thinking it's him who ordered.

Jimin was about to step out when he collided with a firm chest. He staggered back, clutching the empty food basket.

“Watch where you’re going,” a deep, cold voice snapped.

Jimin blinked up. The man’s sharp suit, expensive watch, and icy gaze screamed money and arrogance.

He scoffed. “Excuse me? I was walking just fine. Maybe try looking up from your phone, Mr Too-Busy-to-See.”

Yoongi lowered his phone, his eyes narrowing. People usually stammered or apologized when faced with him. But this boy? He dared to glare back.

“Whatever,” Yoongi muttered, brushing past. But as he did, something glinted on the floor. He bent down, picking up a small daisy-shaped earring. Delicate. Soft. The complete opposite of his world.

He slipped it into his pocket without a word, muttering to himself, “Careless.”
Yet for reasons he couldn’t explain, his steps slowed. That stranger’s fiery eyes lingered in his mind longer than they should have.

But he didn't know that it was beginning of something new that would change his life later.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Yoongi sat in the backseat of his sleek black car, city lights flashing past the tinted windows. Normally, he would drown himself in emails or reports, but today his mind was elsewhere.

Those sharp brown eyes, the bold tone, that ridiculous sass—he had never met someone who dared to look him in the eye like that.
He scoffed, loosening his tie.

Why am I even thinking about that stranger? Still, the small daisy-shaped earring weighed heavily in his pocket, as if mocking him for caring.

Meanwhile, at the bakery, Tae noticed something unusual as Jimin arranged the freshly baked muffins on the counter.
“Wait a second,” Tae said, tilting his head. “Why is your ear empty? Where’s your daisy earring?”

Jimin’s hand immediately flew to his ear. His face fell.
“Maybe… maybe it dropped when I collided with someone earlier today,” he muttered, guilt creeping into his voice.

Tae gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Oh no, Jimin! You lost the only earrings I gifted you. How could you? My poor heart—shattered into a million pieces!”

Jimin’s eyes widened, lips parting in guilt. “Tae… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it.”
Tae burst out laughing, patting his shoulder. “Relax, Minnie. I was just teasing you! Don’t look like a kicked puppy. Earrings can be replaced—but you? You’re one of a kind.”

Jimin’s pout softened, though the guilt still lingered in his chest.
“Come on,” Tae grinned, turning back to the counter. “Let’s finish selling our muffins and complete today’s target. No more sulking.”

Neither of them realized that somewhere else in the city, a cold businessman was still holding onto that very daisy earring.

The next morning, Yoongi leaned back in his office chair, eyes skimming over the reports stacked on his desk. The memory of yesterday clung stubbornly to him— then he picked up his phone and dialed a number.

“Mr. Hyun,” Yoongi’s tone was polite, though distant, “thank you for yesterday’s catering delivery. The food was delicious, but…” he paused, tapping a pen against his desk, “it tasted different from usual.”

On the other end, Mr. Hyun chuckled warmly. “Ah, that would explain it. Yesterday’s food was prepared by one of my best employees, Jimin. He’s talented in cooking—one of the best I’ve ever seen. And he was also the one who delivered it to you.”

Yoongi froze for a split second. Jimin. The name echoed in his head, dragging him back to that collision—the stubborn glare, the sharp tongue, the daisy earring now sitting in his drawer. A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips before he muttered, “Interesting.”

Just then, Jungkook barged into the office, holding a paper bag. “Hyung, you skipped breakfast again.” That's why I brought something for you and when he took out it was muffins.

Yoongi raised a brow. “I don’t eat sweets, you know that.”

Jungkook grinned mischievously, placing a muffin on the table. “I know, but you need to try this one. I swear it’s the best in town. I found this shop recently, and they make the most amazing muffins and choco lava cakes. Hyung, I’m telling you, it’s life-changing.”

Yoongi sighed. “Kook—”
“And,” Jungkook interrupted with a dreamy look, “the person at the counter… Hyung, he’s breathtaking. The moment I saw him, I swear my heart stopped. Love at first sight is real, and I felt it yesterday.”

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know I don’t believe in such things.”
Jungkook smirked. “You will. When someone will takes your breath away, you won’t even realize it.”

For a moment, Yoongi’s mind betrayed him. Jimin’s fiery glare flashed before his eyes. He quickly brushed it off, shaking his head. “Whatever.”

“Fine, fine,” Jungkook sighed, pushing the muffin closer. “Just eat it once. You won’t regret it.”

Yoongi hesitated before giving in. “I’m only eating this because you’re pestering me.”
He took a small bite. Warm, soft, bursting with flavor—it was unexpectedly divine. An involuntary sound escaped him, somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

Jungkook’s face lit up. “See! I told you! You love it, don’t you?”

Yoongi cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “It’s… acceptable.” His ears burned faintly as he shifted the conversation. “Enough of this. Show me today’s agenda and my scheduled work I have to do.”

What he didn’t know was that the muffin he just devoured with such unwilling pleasure had been baked by none other than Jimin.

Back at the bakery, Tae practically skipped to Jimin’s side, his eyes sparkling.
“Jimin, you know what? I saw a bunny-faced human today. He was so pretty! He came to order earlier, and ahhh—my poor heart just got shot by his handsomeness.

He fanned himself dramatically, pretending to swoon.
Jimin chuckled, leaning against the counter. “Omgg Tae, now you have to wear your best fashion clothes. What if he comes again? Maybe he’ll get bewitched by your beauty and ask you to be his boyfriend.”

Tae gasped, clutching his chest again. “You’re no fun, Minnie! Always such a killjoy.”
“Yes, yes, I know that already,” Jimin teased, patting his head. “Now get to work. His handsomeness won’t fill your tummy—you need money for that, and for money you need to work.”

Tae pouted but picked up the tray, muttering, “Killjoy,” under his breath while Jimin laughed.

Little did they know, love was already quietly threading its way into their lives

Chapter Text

Chapter 3 

The bell above the bakery door chimed softly. Jimin glanced up, already recognizing the familiar bunny-faced customer who had left Tae swooning yesterday.

Jungkook smiled warmly as he approached the counter. “My boss liked your muffins too,” he said casually, not mentioning any names.

“Usually, he doesn’t eat sweets at all… but yesterday he did, and he actually loved it. Can you add one more for him in tangerine flavor, if you have? That’s his favorite.”

Jimin’s brows rose in surprise before he smiled. “What a coincidence—I just baked a fresh batch of tangerine muffins this morning. Here you go.”

Jungkook accepted the packet gratefully and paid for both. Tae peeked shyly from the kitchen doorway, only to dart away again when Jungkook’s eyes flicked toward him.

Back at the office, Yoongi was buried in paperwork, brows furrowed as he scribbled notes in the margins. He didn’t even notice the door creak open until Jungkook’s voice broke his concentration.

“Hyung, I brought something for you.”

Yoongi didn’t look up. “Don’t tell me it’s something sweet again. I can’t tolerate it.”

Jungkook grinned knowingly. “You guessed it right—it’s muffins. But this time, tangerine flavored. I know you love those the most.”

That made Yoongi pause. Without hesitation, he reached for the muffin, took a bite, and instantly stilled. It was soft, tangy, and deliciously fresh. An involuntary hum of satisfaction slipped past his lips.

“This is… actually good,” he admitted, glancing at Jungkook. “What’s the name of the shop?”

“It’s called Bloom and Bliss,” Jungkook replied, trying to hide his smile.

Yoongi nodded, already making a mental note. “Next time, order from them for our functions. They’re really good.”

Little did he know he was praising Jimin’s bakery.

Later, Jungkook leaned against Yoongi’s desk, arms crossed. “Hyung, aren’t you going home for Chuseok this year?”

Yoongi’s face darkened slightly. “You know well… Mom and Seokjin don’t like me. What would I do there? I’m better here.”

“Then come with me to Busan,” Jungkook said firmly. “My family won’t mind at all.”

Yoongi sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

“Nope.” Jungkook shook his head stubbornly. “You always say that and never come. This time, I won’t let you suffer alone. You need to socialize, Hyung. You deserve at least one warm holiday.”

Yoongi gave him a long look before finally giving in. “Okay, okay. I’ll go. Now stop pouting and get back to work.”

Jungkook grinned, his mission accomplished.

Days passed with the same routine—Yoongi working tirelessly, Jungkook dropping by the bakery almost every day, and Tae’s heart racing every time their eyes met.

One evening, Jimin raised a brow at Jungkook as he placed yet another order. “You know, I don’t think you come here just for muffins. Tell me honestly—are you here to meet Tae?”

Jungkook’s ears turned pink. “It’s not like that…” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m going to Busan for Chuseok, and I wanted to take something sweet for my parents. They love desserts, and honestly, what better place than here?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Wait—you’re from Busan? I’m from Busan too! I’m going home for Chuseok, and Tae’s going as well—he’s from Daegu.”

Jungkook lit up at the coincidence. “Really? My boss is from Daegu too. He’s one of my closest friends—that’s why I’m dragging him with me to celebrate in Busan this year.”

Jimin laughed, delighted. “Then let’s meet up! It would be fun.”

Jungkook nodded eagerly. “Sure, the more the merrier.”

Jimin smirked knowingly, tilting his head toward the kitchen. “By the way, Tae’s inside. Normally, I don’t let anyone back there… but since you’re lucky, I’ll make an exception.”

Jungkook’s heart skipped as he whispered shyly, “Thanks, hyung.”

With that, he pushed the door open, step

ping into Tae’s world with a shy smile and a racing heart.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

They were all set to go to Busan, but since they lived in different cities, Jimin traveled alone while Jungkook accompanied Yoongi, carrying a promise to meet again once they arrived.

After four long hours of traveling, the train finally slowed into Busan station. The festive air of Chuseok greeted them, filled with laughter, chatter, and the scent of traditional foods. They waved each other goodbye and departed for their respective homes.

Jimin dragged his small suitcase through the familiar lanes of his neighborhood. The sight of his home filled him with warmth, but nothing compared to the joy he felt when the door opened.

“Jimin-ah!” Hoseok, his elder brother, rushed forward with his usual bright smile and enveloped him in a tight hug. Hoseok had always been Jimin’s biggest support, the only one who constantly cared for him besides their parents.

Jimin hugged back with a wide smile, his heart feeling at peace. Coming home never felt complete without Hoseok’s presence.

On the other side of the city, Jungkook led Yoongi to his family’s house. The moment the door opened, his elder brother Jihyun greeted him warmly.

“Kook, you’re back!” Jihyun’s eyes curved in joy. “And you brought your boss with you too.”

Kook grinned, glancing at Yoongi. “Yes, hyung. This is Yoongi-hyung. He’s here to celebrate Chuseok with us.”

Yoongi bowed politely, but deep inside he was nervous. It had been years since he was welcomed into a family home like this.

“It’s good you brought him,” Jihyun said. “He will enjoy well with you.”

Their mother stepped forward with a kind smile. “For now, Yoongi-ssi, you can rest in the guest room. And Kook, your room is ready as always.”

Yoongi followed quietly, his heart heavy yet oddly comforted. He wasn’t used to this kind of acceptance anymore. For a moment, he thought of how different this warmth felt compared to the silence of his own family back in Daegu.

Jimin was busy cooking for his family. It had been a long time since they had eaten a meal prepared by his hands, and tonight he wanted to make them happy.

His parents and brother Hoseok savored every bite, smiling proudly, while his cousins and aunt—as usual—found reasons to taunt him. Jimin had grown used to it over the years, so he didn’t let their words affect him. Instead, he focused on the joy of seeing his immediate family enjoy his food.

Meanwhile, in another part of Busan, Yoongi sat at the dining table with Jungkook’s family. The warm chatter, the sound of chopsticks, and the light-hearted laughter filled the room.

It was such a wholesome moment for Yoongi, who had not experienced this kind of family warmth in years. His own home had turned into a place of silence and distance ever since his father’s death, and he hadn’t been cared for like this since.

As he quietly ate alongside Jungkook, a lump formed in his throat. He wanted to cry, but he kept his expression neutral so no one would notice how deeply it was affecting him. For the first time in so long, he felt loved, and that realization overwhelmed him.

After dinner, Yoongi turned to Jungkook.

“Kook, I want to go out for some fresh air. Will you come with me?”

Jungkook grinned. “Of course. I always love walking after meals. Besides, I wanted to talk with you anyway.”

The two of them left the house and walked toward the park. The night was peaceful—the moon peeked out from behind the drifting clouds, stars glittered brightly, and the cool breeze brushed past them gently.

On the other side of the city, Jimin told his family he was going for an evening walk. While strolling, he spotted a stray cat leisurely crossing the road.

His face immediately brightened. Kneeling down, he gently patted the cat, though he knew he could never adopt one because of his allergies. Still, moments like this gave him quiet joy.

Just then, Jungkook noticed a familiar figure crouching by the roadside.

“Hyung… Jimin-hyung? Is that you?”

Jimin turned at the sound of his name. “Kook? You live around here too? How come I’ve never seen you before?”

Jungkook chuckled. “That’s because I don’t usually stay here. Most of my time is spent in Seoul.”

Only then did Jimin notice the person standing beside Jungkook. His eyes widened.

“You?!”

Yoongi’s head snapped up, equally surprised.

“You?!”

Jungkook blinked between them. “Wait… you two know each other?”

Jimin crossed his arms. “Yes. I ran into this cat-faced, rude human earlier while making deliveries.”

Yoongi’s brows furrowed in offense. “Cat-faced? How dare you call me that when you yourself look like a baby chick.”

Jungkook nearly choked trying to hold back his laughter. He had never seen Yoongi speak like this to anyone, and the playful bickering was so unlike him.

Trying to settle things, Jungkook said, “Okay, okay. No need for a fight. But I guess I don’t need to introduce you both now. Still—formally—Jimin, this is Yoongi-hyung, my boss I mentioned before. And hyung, this is Jimin—the baker I buy muffins from every day.”

Yoongi smirked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Ah… that explains it. No wonder the muffins looked ugly and tasted bad.”

Jimin gasped in offense. “Take that back, you cat-faced human!”

Yoongi tilted his head with a sly grin. “Not a chance, Baby Chick Muffin.”

Jungkook burst into laughter, utterly enjoying the banter. It was rare to see Yoongi interact like this, so he let them continue, secretly entertained.

Finally, Jimin huffed and turned back to Jungkook. “Anyway, it was nice seeing you, Kook. Let’s exchange numbers—we should hang out together sometime.”

After petting the cat one last time, Jimin waved goodbye and walked off.

Still grinning, Jungkook turned to his hyung. “Hyung… what was that? I’m not complaining, but… wow.”

Yoongi was left speechless, unsure why he had reacted that way with Jimin. Instead of answering, he shoved his hands into his pockets and continued walking as if nothing had happened.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Yoongi sat by the window of his guest room, the faint hum of evening outside mixing with the muffled laughter of Jungkook’s family from the kitchen.

The warmth of their dinner still lingered in his chest, an unfamiliar weight that pressed down on him in a way food alone never could.

It had been years since he’d felt anything close to this kind of love — the kind that came without conditions, without masks. It unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

The longer he sat there, the more restless his mind grew. When emotions became too much, Yoongi always turned to the one thing that never betrayed him: his pen.

He opened his notebook, its worn pages already filled with lyrics that no one else had ever seen. Words began to pour out effortlessly, his turmoil shaping itself into raw lines of poetry and music.

Each verse bled with longing and defiance — his quiet rebellion against the silence he had forced on himself for years. Writing was the only way he could breathe, the only place he could admit what his voice would never say aloud.

Across the city, another soul fought with his own noise. Jimin sat cross-legged on his bed, the soft lamplight spilling over his sketchbook. His pencil moved quickly, almost desperately, across the paper.

The first lines shaped the stray cat he had spotted under the streetlight earlier that night — its wide eyes reflecting loneliness he understood all too well.

But soon, almost without thinking, his hand drew the sharp eyes of a man he had argued with not long before. Yoongi’s gaze, cold yet strangely unforgettable, emerged from the page as though it demanded to exist.

Drawing was Jimin’s secret refuge. Just like Yoongi’s lyrics, it was the only place he allowed himself to store the feelings he couldn’t explain to anyone else. In those moments, paper and pencil became his confession.

And like Yoongi, when the last stroke was done, he felt exhaustion sweep over him. Somewhere lost in each other’s thoughts, though miles apart, both men drifted to sleep — Yoongi with his lyrics still uncapped on the nightstand, Jimin with smudges of graphite on his fingertips.

The next morning arrived quietly, sunlight soft against the curtains. Jungkook slipped into Yoongi’s room, balancing a steaming cup of black coffee in his hands. He leaned forward with a boyish grin.

“Hyung, your favorite,” he said, holding it out like it was something precious.

Yoongi blinked awake, groggy but touched. He accepted the cup with a small nod, the warmth seeping into his fingers. “Thanks, Kook,” he muttered, but his voice carried something softer than gratitude.

Moments like these reminded him of what he had lost long ago — and what he wasn’t sure he deserved to feel again.

Meanwhile, across the city, Jimin was already bustling about. The kitchen was alive with clattering pans as he brewed tea for his parents and set trays of sweets neatly on the table. Today was Chuseok, and the house buzzed with preparations.

Hanboks were laid out carefully on the bed, their bright colors gleaming, gifts wrapped with care in cloth coverings. Jimin’s heart warmed as he watched his family gather, each member moving with purpose and reverence.

They performed the ancestral rites with quiet devotion, bowing before the table laid with food offerings.

Jimin handed his parents thoughtful gifts and placed a carefully chosen present in Hobi-hyung’s hands, smiling as Hobi pulled him into a tight hug. “You always think of everything,” Hobi whispered, and Jimin’s chest swelled at the simple affirmation.

But hidden among the sweets and gifts was a small box he had set aside — something he wanted to give Jungkook later. He smiled faintly to himself at the thought.

In Jungkook’s house, the festive spirit was just as alive. His mother fussed around, laughing as she insisted Yoongi try on a hanbok. At first, Yoongi resisted, his lips curling into a scowl.

But eventually, he gave in. When he emerged dressed in the traditional attire, the family clapped in delight. Jungkook beamed, tugging playfully at his sleeve.

For the first time in years, Yoongi felt himself blending into a family gathering, the kind he thought he had lost forever. The quiet joy of being included nearly overwhelmed him, and he found himself slipping outside for a moment of air, clutching his notebook like a lifeline.

As evening descended, Jungkook approached him. “Hyung, do you want to come with me? I’m going to meet Jimin.”

The name landed like a spark in Yoongi’s chest. Jimin, who haunted his thoughts more than he cared to admit. He hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Fine. But don’t make me regret it.”

At the park nearby, the lamps glowed softly against the night air. Jimin arrived first, sitting on a bench beneath a tree, the box of sweets resting in his lap.

His gaze wandered restlessly until he saw Jungkook approaching — and beside him, the figure he hadn’t expected but somehow knew would come.

“Kook,” Jimin greeted warmly, his tone lifting.

Jungkook said I brought him with me hope you don't mind. Jimin then glanced at Yoongi, his tone sharpening slightly, “I don’t mind if he doesn’t either.”

Yoongi arched an eyebrow but said nothing, sliding his hands into his pockets.

To break the tension, Jimin opened the box of sweets and handed it to Jungkook. “These are for you, Kook. I saved them specially.”

Jungkook blinked in surprise, touched. “You didn’t have to… but thank you. I feel bad though, I didn’t bring anything for you.”

Jimin’s lips curved into a soft smile. “It’s okay. You can give me something later.”

Inside the box were animal-shaped cookies. Jungkook laughed out loud, holding one up. “These are adorable.” He picked out a cat-shaped cookie and offered it to Yoongi with a grin. “Perfect match, don’t you think?”

Jimin chuckled, eyes glinting. “Exactly. Cat-shaped cookie for cat-like human.”

Yoongi smirked, breaking his silence. He plucked another cookie from the box and held it out toward Jimin. “Then here’s yours, Baby Chick.”

Jimin flushed lightly at the nickname, rolling his eyes but accepting the cookie anyway. Jungkook, meanwhile, happily bit into a bunny-shaped piece, his laughter echoing.

“These are delicious, Jimin. My family will love them too.” He paused before adding, “Let’s go to the amusement park tomorrow. It’s our last day here, and I want to end it with something fun.”

Jimin nodded after a moment. “Alright. I need to get back to my shop soon anyway.”

The three lingered under the streetlight, their conversation flowing casually despite the unspoken tension weaving between Yoongi and Jimin.

Eventually, Jimin waved goodbye and disappeared into the night, his footsteps fading softly.

A silence fell as Jungkook and Yoongi stood side by side. Jungkook glanced at him with a knowing smile. “I’m glad I brought you here. You’re changing, hyung. I can see it already.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, trying to mask the flicker of truth in those words. “Shut up, you talk too much.”

But deep inside, as the night pressed close around them, he knew Jungkook was right.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

The morning dawned quietly, the calm of a new day settling gently over the town. Sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the rooms.

Outside, birds chirped lazily, and the faint hum of early traffic mingled with the occasional laughter of children on their way to school.

Inside, life moved at its usual rhythm, yet there was a subtle excitement lingering in the air—today wasn’t just another day.

Jimin moved through his morning routine with a quiet sense of anticipation. He finished his breakfast, taking small bites, savoring the warmth of his tea and the gentle crunch of toast.

After cleaning up the dishes and tidying the house, he paused for a moment by the window, watching the town slowly come to life. A day outside… just a simple day. I hope it’s nice, he thought, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Meanwhile, Jungkook and Yoongi prepared for their outing. Jungkook hummed a tune under his breath, clearly excited, while Yoongi adjusted his jacket with a faint flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

Will I actually enjoy this…? he wondered. But the thought of being with Jungkook—and maybe even Jimin—made him willing to step out of his comfort zone.

He trusted Jungkook to plan the day perfectly, knowing his friend would make it fun, despite his own hesitations.

The three of them eventually converged at the amusement park. Jungkook and Yoongi arrived first and waited near the entrance, watching as families and friends walked past, laughter and chatter filling the air.

Five minutes later, Jimin arrived, his eyes bright, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he greeted Jungkook.

Then he looked at Yoongi.

Yoongi was wearing a soft, cozy sweater that somehow made him look even gentler, more approachable, almost… adorable.

Jimin felt a sudden, unexpected warmth rise in his chest at the sight. Before he could stop himself, his eyes lingered a little too long.

Yoongi noticed immediately, a subtle smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“If you’re done staring at me, we can go inside.”

Jimin flinched, quickly looking away. “Don’t give yourself too much importance. I wasn’t looking at you at all.” Definitely not, he insisted to himself, even as his heartbeat betrayed him.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening, but he didn’t press further.

Together, the three of them stepped into the amusement park, the smell of popcorn, cotton candy, and freshly baked pretzels filling their senses.

The park buzzed with energy: children ran ahead, couples strolled hand in hand, and colorful banners fluttered in the breeze. They paused for a moment, taking it all in before deciding which ride to try first.

Jimin’s eyes lit up as he pointed toward the carousel. “Let’s go on the carousel.”

The others agreed without hesitation, and soon, they had three tickets in hand. The carousel spun slowly, colorful lights reflecting off the polished wooden horses, and cheerful music played in the background.

Jimin laughed, the sound light and carefree, as he rode alongside Jungkook and Yoongi.

Afterward, Jungkook suggested the Ferris wheel.

Jimin hesitated, his stomach twisting slightly. Heights had never been his strong suit. “You both go. I’ll wait here. I’m hungry, so I’ll grab something.”

Yoongi’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Aww, Baby Chick is scared of heights. What else can you expect from a shortie like you?”

Jimin puffed out his chest indignantly. “How dare you! You’re just 2cm taller than me. And I’m not scared at all!”

Fueled by a sudden surge of ego, Jimin insisted on joining them. Jungkook, knowing he’d likely be the third wheel but wanting to keep the peace, went along.

They climbed into the Ferris wheel, sitting in order: Yoongi, Jimin, then Jungkook.

As the ride began its fast ascent, Jimin’s confident facade crumbled almost instantly.

“Eomma, save me!” he screamed, grabbing Yoongi’s hand with surprising force, leaving marks.

Yoongi flinched but didn’t say a word, letting Jimin cling to him. As the Ferris wheel reached its peak, the world below looked small and distant, and Jimin’s panic intensified.

Yet, through it all, Yoongi laughed—first softly, then fully, a rare, genuine laugh that seemed to brighten the whole ride.

Jimin blinked, stunned. He hadn’t expected this. Even Jungkook, who knew Yoongi well, looked shocked. His hyung hadn’t laughed like this in a long time.

“Hyung, why are you laughing?” Jungkook asked.

Yoongi glanced at Jimin with a playful glint in his eyes. “Someone said they weren’t scared… and you should’ve seen their face when the Ferris wheel started.”

Jimin’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. I can’t believe this… he muttered, mumbling something about getting food before continuing. Jungkook nodded, saying he was hungry too.

They wandered toward a small café, the aroma of coffee, pastries, and grilled sandwiches guiding them inside.

Jimin ate quickly, keeping his eyes firmly on his plate to avoid meeting Yoongi’s gaze.

Yoongi, however, watched quietly, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he observed Jimin enjoying his meal.

Suddenly, Jungkook put his chopsticks between Jimin's lip when he was eating and it looked like beak. 

“You literally look like a chick,” Jungkook teased.

Yoongi smirked at Jungkook. “Now you know why I call him Baby Chick.”

Kicking slightly, Jimin murmured shyly, “Kook, let me eat in peace!” 

After finishing their meal, they explored more rides, the day passing in a blur of laughter, screams, and shared excitement. At one point, Jimin’s eyes lit up as he spotted a photo booth.

“Let’s click some pictures to make memories. See, there are props too!” he exclaimed.

They stepped inside, the camera clicking repeatedly as they posed with silly hats, oversized glasses, and feather boas.

Yoongi kept his usual calm, resting face, but Jimin insisted he smile at least once. The final photo captured a genuine smile from Yoongi—a rare moment frozen in time.

Jimin decided to keep that one for himself, a little treasure from the day.

At the exit gate, the scent of cotton candy caught their attention. Jimin’s eyes lit up instantly.

“As expected of you. You literally have a sweet tooth. I don’t know how you digest it,” Yoongi said, shaking his head after seeing Jimin's reaction over cotton candy. 

Jimin stuck out his tongue. “Not everyone is grumpy and allergic to sweetness like you.”

With cotton candy in hand and hearts full of small, cherished memories, they bid each other farewell, heading back to their respective homes.

The day had been a refreshing break from the usual chaos of life—a reminder that joy could be found in simple pleasures, in laughter shared, and in moments where time seemed to slow just for them. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Life slowly returned to its usual rhythm, yet the holiday left a lingering warmth that refused to fade. Even in the quiet of their everyday routines, subtle changes had settled over them like an invisible veil.

Yoongi found himself humming melodies he hadn’t touched in months, his fingers unconsciously drumming beats against the armrest of chairs, tabletops, and even his coffee cup.

The music inside him, which had long felt buried beneath layers of silence and exhaustion, was gradually resurfacing.

Jimin, on the other hand, had begun sketching with a newfound vibrancy. His drawings no longer carried just shapes and outlines but emotions—depths of laughter, shades of longing, and even hints of vulnerability he usually kept hidden from the world.

The little details—curves of lips, glimmers of eyes, light strokes that captured the warmth of fleeting moments—spoke of his unspoken thoughts.

One day, while preparing a fresh batch of muffins for the bakery, Jimin’s phone buzzed with a familiar ringtone.

He wiped his flour-dusted hands on his apron and answered. His parents’ voices, warm yet a little tired from travel, instantly filled him with joy.

They told him they were coming to Seoul for a month for his cousin’s wedding. Jimin’s heart leapt at the thought of spending time with them. He happily agreed, promising to pick them up and help set up the house for their stay.

Although his family owned a house in Seoul, Jimin had chosen independence and preferred living in his small flat nearby. Still, he never missed an opportunity to help his parents.

A few hours later, he drove to the station, hugged them tightly upon arrival, and busied himself carrying their luggage into the house.

After settling them in, he went to the kitchen to prepare tea and snacks—something warm and light after their long journey.

But his aunt’s words pierced through the cozy atmosphere like a sharp blade.

“It’s my daughter Sara’s wedding,” she said firmly, her tone laced with disdain. “And I don’t want you near the function too much. You’re an ill omen for the family.”

The words, heavy with judgment, struck Jimin like a sudden blow. She was referring to the secret Jimin had kept from everyone, the part of him that had never been accepted fully within his family circle.

He felt a pang of sadness, his chest tightening. But instead of protesting or defending himself, Jimin simply lowered his eyes and nodded quietly.

“I understand,” he whispered. With a small, polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he excused himself, saying he had work to get back to.

He returned to his bakery, burying his pain beneath trays of muffins and the comforting smell of sugar and butter. But deep down, the sting of his aunt’s rejection lingered like an unhealed wound.

Meanwhile, in Daegu, Seokjin was facing his own crossroads. He had recently been informed about a transfer—one that would move him to Seoul with a generous salary and new opportunities.

At first, his mother was reluctant. She had not stepped outside Daegu since their father’s passing, holding onto memories in the walls of their home. Change, to her, felt like betrayal.

But Jin, with his calm persuasion and gentle patience, reassured her that everything was ready. She wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing.

“It’s a new start, Eomma,” he said softly. “You only need to stay with me. I’ll take care of everything.”

At last, after days of persuasion, she agreed. Neither of them realized that fate had played a quiet trick on them. The house they had chosen in Seoul stood directly opposite Jimin’s family home.

By the very next day, Jin and his mother had moved in, their new life beginning just across the street.

In Jimin’s household, his mother, ever thoughtful, suggested preparing a small housewarming gift for the new neighbors.

Wanting to help, Jimin baked a fresh batch of sweets—lightly golden, sweet-smelling, soft to the touch. Carefully packing them in a neat box tied with ribbon, he walked over to the newly moved-in house.

When he knocked, the door opened to reveal a kind-looking woman—Jin’s mother.

“Hello, Aunty. I’m Jimin, your next-door neighbor,” he greeted warmly. “I heard you recently moved, so I wanted to gift you these sweets as a housewarming gesture.”

Her eyes softened at his politeness. Touched by his effort, she invited him inside. But Jimin shook his head with a gentle smile.

“Thanks for the offer, Aunty, but I’m quite busy with my cousin’s wedding preparations. I’ll definitely come later for sure.”

Jin’s mother watched him leave, a small smile tugging at her lips. What a gentle and kind young man, she thought. Little did Jimin know that this woman was none other than Yoongi’s mother.

A week later, the house buzzed with wedding excitement. It was the day of his cousin’s engagement, and the family home was overflowing with relatives, decorations, and preparations.

Jimin’s mother extended an invitation to Jin and his mother, who had grown close to her in just a few days.

Coincidentally, Yoongi was also invited. The groom-to-be was the son of a close business partner of Yoongi’s company.

The engagement hall shimmered with golden lights and vibrant flowers. Laughter and music filled the air as relatives bustled about, adjusting decorations, arranging trays of sweets, and rehearsing last-minute rituals.

Jimin was everywhere—checking flower arrangements, reminding waiters about timings, ensuring no detail went unnoticed.

Yet, when the moment of the ring exchange arrived, he slipped quietly behind the scenes. His aunt’s earlier words echoed in his ears, and rather than risk drawing unwanted attention, he chose to step away.

Yoongi arrived at the venue with his usual detached air. He walked in, scanning the place casually, his face unreadable.

But then, suddenly, his gaze froze. Across the hall stood his brother and his mother.

Shock flickered across his features, replacing his earlier boredom. As he approached, Jin and his mother stiffened. Their faces hardened instantly, walls rising between them.

“We don’t want to talk to you. No drama here,” his mother said coldly, her voice void of warmth.

Yoongi swallowed the sting, his voice softer than ever. “How are you, Eomma? Hyung?”

But his words dissolved into the noise of the hall, unanswered. They turned their attention back to the ceremony, pretending he wasn’t even there. The sting of rejection—so familiar yet so fresh—cut into him again.

Needing air, Yoongi stepped outside. The cool night breeze brushed against his face, and that’s when he noticed someone else standing there.

It was Jimin.

“What are you doing here?” Yoongi asked, surprise lacing his tone.

“It’s my cousin’s engagement,” Jimin replied. “And you?”

“It’s my business partner’s son’s engagement. They invited me.” Yoongi tilted his head, observing him. “But shouldn’t you be inside enjoying your cousin’s engagement?”

Jimin fell silent. Something in his expression shifted—his usual sass and cheer dimmed, replaced by a flicker of sadness and loneliness.

Yoongi frowned. He didn’t like it. He got used to Jimin’s brightness for the past few days, he liked Jimin's smiling face.

In an attempt to lighten the moment, he leaned closer with a mischievous smirk. “I wonder who the next unlucky fellow will be to suffer from your bakery sweetness attack.

I’m already dying from it.” He clutched his chest dramatically, pretending as though he were actually collapsing.

Jimin couldn’t help but smile at his antics. “Don’t worry, you won’t die from it. And by the way, your acting is so poor, no one would be convinced.”

“But it made you smile, so it’s worth it,” Yoongi replied softly.

Heat rushed to Jimin’s ears, turning them red. He looked away, flustered, while Yoongi chuckled quietly.

For a while, they stood side by side under the night sky.

The moon peeked through drifting clouds, stars glimmered faintly above, and a chilly breeze carried the fragrance of flowers from the hall. The world outside the glittering engagement seemed to fall away.

Neither of them realized that fate, with quiet patience, was weaving their lives together—thread by thread—setting the stage for changes that would alter their paths forever.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Morning sunlight filtered through Jimin’s curtains, spilling across the soft cream walls and warming the quiet flat.

The early city sounds reached faintly through the half-open window—the distant honk of cars, the hum of a bus starting its route, the chatter of neighbors exchanging morning greetings.

Jimin lay still for a moment, eyes half-closed, his face buried in the pillow. Normally, mornings were easy for him; he’d spring out of bed, humming a tune, ready to start his day with the same cheer that made him well-loved.

But today felt different. The warmth on his face wasn’t only from the sun—it was from the memory that kept replaying in his mind.

The events of last night lingered stubbornly. Yoongi’s quiet smile had been softer than usual, his words carrying that playful edge that left Jimin flustered, and most of all, that strange flutter in his chest had refused to fade.

He turned over in bed, groaning quietly as if trying to shake it off, but instead his heart only beat faster.

Normally sassy and confident, Jimin wasn’t used to this type of nervous energy. Something in him was shifting, tugging at him in ways he couldn’t explain.

Outside, Seoul was waking up with its usual rhythm—delivery trucks moving down the street, students hurrying to school, the aroma of coffee drifting from nearby cafés.

But inside Jimin’s small flat, it felt like time had slowed, like he was standing at the edge of something new without fully realizing what it meant.

With a determined exhale, he pulled himself out of bed. Tae had taken care of the shop yesterday because of the engagement preparations, and Jimin was grateful.

But the thought of leaving it to Tae again today didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want his best friend to shoulder all the burden, so he decided he’d go in and handle things himself.

He moved through his morning routine carefully, almost deliberately. Washing his face, he caught his reflection in the mirror and blinked at the faint color on his cheeks.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. Yet even as he combed his hair and tied his apron neatly at the waist, the memory of Yoongi’s teasing smirk hovered at the back of his mind.

By the time he reached the shop, the comforting familiarity grounded him. The scent of flour and butter always made him feel at home.

He rolled up his sleeves and began preparing the muffins for the day, measuring out ingredients with practiced ease. The hum of the oven, the clinking of bowls, and the steady rhythm of mixing soothed his thoughts.

For a while, he managed to lose himself in the work, focusing on the simple, tangible tasks in front of him.

The bell above the shop door jingled, and Jimin glanced up briefly from the counter.

Jungkook walked in, tall and bright-eyed despite the early hour. Tae was already stationed at the counter, flashing his usual cheerful smile.

Tae: “Hi, Jungkook! How are you? It’s been a few days since you last came here.”

Jungkook: “I was busy with work and had to go out of town, so I didn’t get a chance to come.”

Jimin returned just then, balancing a tray of fresh muffins. The warm, buttery scent spread through the shop, and with it, he also carried a small batch of cookies—the same kind he had once given Jungkook during the Chuseok festival.

Jimin: “Hi, Kook. How are you doing?”

Jungkook: “I’m fine. Yoongi Hyung is fine too. Can you pack something for him and my usual?”

Jimin: “I didn’t even ask about him, though.”

Jungkook (teasingly): “I thought you’d like to know, seeing how you two were interacting during Chuseok.”

The words hit their mark. Jimin’s ears flushed a deep red, and his hand faltered slightly as he set the tray down.

He bit his lip and avoided eye contact, suddenly shy. Tae noticed this shift immediately.

Jimin, who was usually bold enough to tease anyone without hesitation, was now acting bashful? Tae’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Tae (acting offended and betrayed): “Jimin, how could you do this to me? How could you hide this from me? I want all the details! Now my best friend doesn’t share anything with me—my purpose in life is over!”

Jungkook laughed, clearly enjoying himself, and decided to push the teasing further.

Jungkook: “Yes, Hyung, you should tell him what happened. And if you want, Tae, I can share all the pics I have as blackmail.”

Tae (dramatically clutching his chest): “You are a lifesaver, Jungkook! From now on, you’re my friend. My best friend doesn’t share anything with me.”

Jimin groaned, his face burning, and turned away.

Jimin: “Shut up, both of you.”

He busied himself behind the counter, arranging muffins and dusting off crumbs as if his life depended on it.

His movements were brisk, but his hunched shoulders betrayed his embarrassment. Tae and Jungkook exchanged knowing looks, both amused by how easily they could fluster him.

After some time, Jimin reappeared with Jungkook’s usual order neatly packed. Alongside it, he carried a small, carefully wrapped box.

He held it a little too tightly, his thumb brushing over the smooth paper as though reluctant to let it go.

Jimin (shyly, almost mumbling): “Can you give this to Yoongi?”

Jungkook’s grin widened.

Jungkook: “Sure, I’ll be glad to be your messenger.”

Jimin ducked his head, pretending to straighten a basket of bread rolls while trying to hide his expression.

Tae raised his brows, nearly bursting with questions.

As soon as Jungkook left, Tae squealed, his voice echoing through the shop.

Tae: “Jimin! What was that? Has the sun risen in the opposite direction? Park Jimin is smiling and sending a wrapped box to someone!”

Jimin pressed his lips together, cheeks warm.

Jimin: “It’s not like that. He helped me yesterday, and I just wanted to thank him.”

Tae: “Okay, okay, I won’t tease you more… but you have to tell me everything later.”

Jimin: “I will, Tae. Let me finish my work first so we don’t fall behind.”

Tae eyed him suspiciously but didn’t press further, though he was clearly itching to know more.

Meanwhile, Jungkook arrived at Yoongi’s cabin. The space smelled faintly of coffee and ink, papers neatly stacked on the desk. Yoongi glanced up from his work as Jungkook stepped in.

Jungkook: “Hyung, here you go. It’s from someone. Jimin asked me to give it to you personally.”

Yoongi’s expression softened for just a second, a small smile tugging at his lips, before his usual neutral mask returned.

Yoongi: “Go to work now. Don’t slack off.”

Jungkook (grinning): “Okay, Hyung. Enjoy your gift in peace.”

After Jungkook left, the cabin fell quiet again. Yoongi rested his hands on the small box for a moment before carefully untying the ribbon.

Inside, he found a set of animal-shaped cookies, decorated with obvious care.

It was the like the one Jimin gave to Jungkook during Chuseok.

Meanwhile A cat-shaped one sat in the center, its icing more neat and precise and decorated more precise than others.

His gaze lingered on it longer than he intended.

Tucked beneath the cookies was a small folded note.

Note: Thank you for yesterday.

Yoongi stared at the words, the corners of his mouth curving despite himself. He wasn’t one to indulge in sweets often, but somehow these felt different.

He picked up the cat-shaped cookie and held it lightly, his chest tightening in a way he couldn’t explain.

He took a small bite. It was simple, sweet, and warm in a way he didn’t expect.

But more than the taste, it was the thought behind it—the careful wrapping, the note, the way he could almost imagine Jimin’s shy expression as he’d written it.

For the rest of the day, the cookies sat on his desk, and though Yoongi returned to his work, his eyes drifted toward the box more often than he admitted.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Jimin’s day was going as usual. The shop had its steady rhythm—customers coming and going, the soft chatter of neighbors stopping by for bread, and the sweet aroma of baked goods clinging to his apron.

He moved around with practiced ease, hands busy but mind drifting elsewhere. He was tired, yes, but the kind of tired that came with contentment.

Later in the afternoon, his phone buzzed. It was his mother, her voice filled with warmth and insistence.

She reminded him to come home early—they had to go for the wedding dress fitting. Jimin smiled softly at the sound of her voice.

It wasn’t every day she called him with such excitement. There was something comforting about her reminders, the way she always worried over details, always wanting everything to be perfect.

With that in mind, he worked extra hard, determined to finish earlier than usual.

He rolled out one more batch of dough, dusted the counters clean, and arranged the trays neatly, so Tae wouldn’t find a mess later.

By the time evening came, Jimin had closed up the shop and was back home, showered, and dressed, ready to go with his family.

The atmosphere at home was buzzing with anticipation. His parents were already waiting, smiling as they saw him come down the stairs.

Jin and his mother were invited too; they were new neighbours with whom the family got close in the the meantime . Together, they piled into cars and headed for the boutique.

At the boutique, the atmosphere was lively. Racks of shimmering fabrics caught the light, and assistants flitted around with measuring tapes and notebooks, eager to please.

Everyone was busy choosing clothes for the wedding—his cousin trying on dresses, his mother debating colors, Jin making casual comments that had everyone laughing. It felt warm, chaotic, and full of life.

Yoongi arrived a little later, directly from his office. His presence shifted the air subtly. Dressed in his usual sharp clothes, with his tie slightly loosened from a long day, he greeted the groom’s family politely.

They had called him over, after all, and he never ignored such responsibilities.

Meanwhile, Jimin’s phone buzzed again. It was a call from Mr. Hyun, the catering supplier they often worked with.

His voice was rushed, apologetic. An urgent delivery had to be done, and the payment would be doubled.

Jimin hesitated for a moment, glancing at his family absorbed in their own tasks.

Tae was out of town for family reasons, and there was no one else to handle it.

So Jimin made a quick decision. He slipped away quietly, not wanting to disturb the others who were happily immersed in shopping.

In his rush, he forgot his phone on the couch at home, completely unmindful of how important it might become later.

After finishing his own selection of clothes, Yoongi excused himself. “I have pending work,” he said in his usual clipped tone.

No one questioned it—Yoongi was always busy, after all.

Driving back, the night pressing around the city, Yoongi’s sharp eyes caught sight of someone waving for a lift by the roadside.

He slowed the car and lowered the window, curiosity flickering across his usually calm features. His brows lifted when he recognized the familiar figure.

It was Jimin.

Yoongi: “What are you doing here?”

Jimin looked flustered, a faint shine of sweat on his temple from walking.

Jimin: “My bike stopped. I was delivering an urgent order… I left in such a hurry I forgot my phone. Can I borrow yours to call home?”

Without hesitation, Yoongi handed him his phone. Jimin unlocked it, only to see the dreaded black screen. Dead. Completely useless.

Jimin sighed, shoulders slumping. 

Jimin: “Of course. Even your phone’s useless. How am I supposed to call now?”

Yoongi leaned an elbow on the window frame, smirk tugging at his lips.

Yoongi (smirking): “You asked for a phone. I gave you one. You didn’t ask for a charged one.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, exasperated.

Jimin (rolling eyes): “You’re impossible. Forget it, I’ll figure something out myself.”

He stepped back, refusing the unspoken offer in Yoongi’s gaze, and began walking along the dim street. His pride wouldn’t let him accept help so easily, especially not from Yoongi.

But as he walked, the teasing voices of Jungkook and Tae echoed in his mind, reminding him of how they had cornered him about Yoongi only a few days earlier.

His cheeks warmed at the memory, his chest tightening in that confusing way it always did now. Maybe that’s why, when he saw Yoongi here, he acted colder than usual. Defensive.

Yoongi stayed in the car, eyes narrowing as he watched Jimin’s small figure in the distance.

The street was quiet, too quiet, the narrow lanes cloaked in shadows that stretched long under the faint streetlights. Something in Yoongi tightened, uneasy at the sight.

He pulled the car forward slowly, rolling down the road beside Jimin.

Yoongi (irritated): “Stop being reckless. Get in.”

Jimin (coldly): “I said I’ll manage. You don’t have to bother.”

Yoongi (firm): “Walking alone at this hour isn’t ‘managing.’ It’s being stupid.”

Jimin ignored him, jaw tight, steps faster. His pride screamed louder than his common sense, and though his heart raced with nerves, he couldn’t bring himself to give in.

Yoongi’s patience snapped. He clenched his jaw, pulled the car to the curb, and stepped out.

His shoes clicked against the pavement as he strode toward Jimin. Without a word, he caught Jimin by the wrist and tugged him firmly toward the car.

Jimin (struggling): “Yah! What are you doing? Let go!”

Yoongi: “No. I won't". 

Jimin’s eyes widened, his voice sharp with frustration.

Jimin: “Why do you even care?”

For a moment, Yoongi’s gaze softened, the sharpness giving way to something heavier, deeper. He held Jimin’s eyes, his voice quiet but steady.

Yoongi: “Because someone has to.”

Jimin froze at the words, his chest stuttering. His wrist tingled where Yoongi held him, and though he tried to shake it off, the sincerity in Yoongi’s tone left him rattled.

Still, his pride wouldn’t let him bend so easily. He tugged again, muttering under his breath. Yoongi exhaled harshly, then, without warning, bent down and scooped Jimin up in his arms.

Jimin (angrily, thrashing): “Put me down! I’m not a kid!”

Yoongi (with quiet frustration): “Then stop acting like one.”

Jimin’s protests echoed into the night, but Yoongi didn’t budge. He carried him with firm, steady strides, set him into the passenger seat, and shut the door with finality.

Then, without looking at him, he returned to the driver’s seat and started the car.

The drive that followed was quiet, but not the heavy silence of anger—rather, a charged silence, one that hummed with unsaid things.

The faint hum of the engine, the occasional flicker of passing streetlights, the closeness of the car’s small space—all of it made the air feel warmer, closer.

Jimin sat stiffly at first, arms crossed, his gaze glued to the window. His reflection in the glass revealed the stubborn pout of his lips.

Yet as the car moved steadily forward, the corners of his mouth softened, curving ever so slightly. He didn’t want Yoongi to see it, but the truth slipped out anyway.

Because even through his pride, even through his stubbornness, there was something undeniably comforting about being cared for—especially by someone like Yoongi.

And Yoongi, though his eyes stayed on the road, caught the faint curve of Jimin’s lips in the reflection of the glass. His own lips twitched into a subtle smile, the kind he would never admit to.

The rest of the night stretched ahead, unknown and unspoken, but for the first time, the silence between them felt like it meant something.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Yoongi buried himself in work the next morning, flipping through thick files and sitting through one meeting after another, his face as unreadable as always.

To anyone looking, he was the picture of composure—calm, sharp, and detached, as though nothing unusual had happened the night before.

His colleagues spoke, he responded curtly, and the day went on.

But behind that mask, his mind wasn’t quite so steady. Every now and then, against his will, images from last night crept in. Jimin’s stubborn figure walking down the empty street, refusing to give up.

The tiny pout of his lips when the phone refused to work. And worst of all—the fleeting, delicate smile Jimin had given in the car, soft enough to vanish if you blinked, but still vivid in Yoongi’s memory.

He hadn’t been meant to notice it. Yet he had. And now, it refused to leave him alone.

On the other side of the city, Jimin carried on with his day at the café, pretending nothing was amiss. He chatted with customers, measured flour, whisked eggs, and sprinkled sugar as if life was perfectly normal.

But no matter how hard he tried, the memories intruded.

Each pause, each quiet moment, pulled him back to the sound of Yoongi’s irritated voice, the unexpected warmth of his hand gripping his wrist firmly, and above all, that one line, simple but heavy— “Because someone has to.”

He had told himself not to overthink it, not to let it echo in his mind. Yet it echoed anyway, louder than anything else.

Jimin shook his head quickly, as if the physical act could scatter the thoughts. But the harder he tried to ignore them, the more stubbornly they clung to him.

He was busy in the kitchen that afternoon, carefully folding chocolate into muffin batter, when his phone buzzed on the counter. Wiping his hands hastily on his apron, he glanced at the screen. Jungkook’s name flashed across it.

“Hyung,” Jungkook’s cheerful voice came through as soon as he answered, “I have a favor. We need some of your café’s magic for the company’s annual meeting.

Muffins, choco lava cake, and some cookies too, if possible. I’d come and pick them up, but things are crazy here with the event prep. Could you… maybe deliver them yourself?”

Jimin hesitated only for a moment before agreeing. “Sure, but it’ll take me some time. I want to bake everything fresh so it’ll last longer.”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the address,” Jungkook replied, relief evident in his tone.

Hours later, Jimin stood at the counter of his café, carefully packing the order. Each muffin was wrapped neatly, the cakes boxed with care, cookies arranged like jewels on a tray.

He tied the ribbons a little too perfectly, his hands moving automatically while his mind drifted back, uninvited, to last night again. He shook the thought away with a sigh, stacked the boxes, and set off.

At the company, he approached the sleek reception desk, politely asked for Jungkook, and was directed upstairs.

The elevator ride was smooth and silent, the polished metal walls reflecting his nervous frown. Once he reached the floor, he spotted Jungkook quickly.

“Hyung, you’re a lifesaver,” Jungkook grinned, taking the packages with grateful hands.

“Don’t thank me yet. Just make sure  everyone eats them before they vanish,” Jimin replied with a small smile.

He was about to leave when a sudden rumble outside caught his attention. The skies had opened up without warning—it was pouring, sheets of rain cascading against the glass windows.

Jimin frowned, biting his lip. He had completely forgotten to check the forecast, and of course, he hadn’t brought an umbrella.

Jungkook noticed his hesitation instantly. “Hyung, why don’t you wait inside until the rain slows down? My cabin is free.”

Jimin shook his head quickly. “I don’t want to intrude on your personal space. It’s fine, I can just wait outside.”

Jungkook’s smile was warm but firm. “It’s really no problem. You must be exhausted after baking all this. Please—come in. Rest for a bit.”

Reluctantly, Jimin nodded. “Okay then. Thank you.”

The cabin was spacious yet cozy, with a soft leather couch by the window. Jimin lowered himself onto it, intending to sit only for a moment.

But the steady patter of rain against the glass, mixed with the hum of the air conditioner, lulled him quicker than he expected. His body, tired from the morning’s work, betrayed him.

Before he knew it, his eyelids had grown heavy, and he drifted into sleep.

His small frame curled up naturally on the couch, and the chill in the air made him shiver faintly.

That was how Yoongi found him.

After finishing a long discussion with Namjoon on another floor, Yoongi returned to the cabin. He paused the moment the door closed behind him.

There, on the couch, Jimin lay fast asleep, his soft features relaxed and his breathing gentle.

Yoongi’s first instinct was surprise. His second… was something far gentler. His expression softened, the usual sharpness in his eyes melting into quiet fondness.

For a moment, he just stood there, watching. The sight tugged at something in his chest he couldn’t name.

Then he noticed the slight tremor in Jimin’s shoulders, the way his fingers twitched faintly as if searching for warmth.

Without hesitation, Yoongi shrugged off his coat and stepped closer, draping it carefully over the smaller boy.

His hands lingered a moment longer than necessary, brushing against Jimin’s arm as he adjusted the fabric.

Silently, he settled at his desk, opening a folder of paperwork. But his gaze betrayed him every few minutes, drifting back to the couch.

Watching Jimin sleep was dangerous—it made his guard slip in ways he wasn’t used to.

Time passed. Eventually, Jimin stirred. His eyelashes fluttered, his head shifted slightly, and then his eyes opened, blinking in confusion.

He registered the weight of a coat around him and frowned faintly. Slowly, realization dawned—he wasn’t in the café. He was in the cabin. And Yoongi… was right there, sitting at the desk, calmly working.

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. Startled, he sat up too quickly, and in his fluster, knocked over a vase on the table. The sound echoed loudly in the quiet room.

Yoongi looked up, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “Slept well, Baby Chick?”

Jimin froze. His cheeks flamed bright pink, and he stammered, “S-sorry… I didn’t realize I’d… fallen asleep. Jungkook told me to wait here until the rain stopped.”

Yoongi didn’t respond, only raised a brow, the hint of amusement never leaving his eyes.

Jimin stood hurriedly, carefully removing the coat from his shoulders. He clutched it in both hands, intending to hand it back quickly. But as he held it, his fingers brushed against something small and hard in the inner pocket.

Frowning, he reached inside.

And froze.

His breath hitched as he pulled it out. A tiny daisy-shaped earring. His daisy earring. The one he had been searching for weeks, convinced he had lost it forever.

Wide eyes darted from the delicate jewelry in his hand to the man seated calmly at the desk. His lips parted, his voice barely a whisper, trembling with disbelief. “...This—why is this here?”

For a long moment, silence filled the cabin. Yoongi finally lifted his gaze, his expression unreadable.

But the corners of his lips curled upward ever so slightly, like a secret he wasn’t ready to reveal.

Jimin’s ears burned crimson. His heart pounded so fast it was almost unbearable.

He shoved the earring back into the coat pocket quickly, thrust the coat toward Yoongi without meeting his eyes, and muttered in a rush, “Th-thank you for everything.”

Before Yoongi could respond, Jimin bolted. He scurried out of the cabin like his feet were on fire, the echo of the door closing behind him filling the silence.

Left alone, Yoongi leaned back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on the door Jimin had just disappeared through.

A low chuckle escaped him, rare and unguarded. He reached into the pocket, brushing his fingers against the cool metal of the daisy earring.

“Baby Chick,” he murmured softly, almost to himself, “you have no idea what you do to me.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

Jimin couldn’t get the sight of that earring out of his mind. All night, even as he lay in his bed, he kept tossing and turning—his heart racing at the thought that Yoongi had kept it with him all this time.

The weight of that simple object pressed on him like a secret he wasn’t ready to unravel, yet couldn’t stop thinking about.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Yoongi’s calm face, his hand brushing over that earring as if it meant something more than just an accessory.

When morning came, Jimin tried to shake off the restless night. He was entrusted with another task for the groom’s to be birthday, and he threw himself into it, hoping work would quiet his heart.

The evening unfolded with the groom’s to be birthday dinner in full swing. Relatives filled every corner of the decorated hall, their laughter blending with the clinking of glasses and the faint notes of traditional music.

Children darted around the tables, balloons tied to their wrists, while the elders engaged in the usual chatter about family, marriage, and responsibilities.

At one of the side tables, Myunhee sat, her chin resting lazily on her palm as she scrolled absently through her phone.

She was already bored—every conversation sounded the same. Her mind was miles away, daydreaming of better things, when suddenly a ripple of whispers spread across the hall like a quiet wave.

Yoongi had arrived.

Heads turned subtly as he entered. Dressed in a sharp suit that only highlighted his tall frame and composed demeanor, Yoongi moved with an air of calm confidence.

He exchanged polite bows with the elders, his words few but respectful.

He didn’t look like he belonged to the crowd—his presence was sharper, brighter, more distinct—and that made him all the more noticeable.

Myunhee’s fingers froze on her phone, her gaze snapping up. Who is that? she thought, sitting up straighter.

She didn’t remember ever seeing him at any family gathering before.

Leaning toward her mother, she whispered, “Eomma, who’s that man?”

Her mother glanced up casually, adjusting her glasses. “That’s Min Yoongi. He’s close to Namjoon’s family. Runs a big company, I’ve heard.”

The words lit a spark in Myunhee’s mind. Owns a company… wealthy… unmarried… The corners of her lips curved into a slow, calculating smile. If I marry someone like him, my life would be set.

But as Yoongi walked past, her smile faltered. He wasn’t alone.

He was saying something to Jimin. The way their eyes met for a brief moment, the small gestures between them—it wasn’t casual. It was personal.

Myunhee’s brow furrowed, a twist of jealousy curling in her stomach. Why is he being so close with Jimin? That should be me.

She leaned toward her mother again, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Eomma… did you see how Jimin is with him? Isn’t it… unusual?”

Her mother looked over subtly but didn’t reply. Myunhee’s mind, however, was already racing, weaving possibilities and plans.

A seed of doubt needs to be planted, and she intended to water it. 

The evening moved along smoothly until Jimin’s phone buzzed urgently. Glancing down, he saw Tae’s name flash across the screen.

The call was brief but urgent—Tae’s sister had been admitted for a check-up, and he was anxious. He needed Jimin by his side.

Without thinking twice, Jimin grabbed his bag and rushed out, so hurried that he forgot to inform anyone at home.

Yoongi, noticing Jimin’s sudden worry and the hurried way he moved, felt his chest tighten.

He didn’t ask questions—he just knew he couldn’t let Jimin go alone. Quietly, without drawing attention, he followed him out.

Together, they reached the gynecologist building. Jimin hurried straight to Tae’s side, his expression etched with concern, while Yoongi stayed close, a silent shadow offering quiet support.

To them, it was nothing but friendship and care. But to an outsider looking in, the scene told a very different story.

An intern passing by, who happened to be a friend of Myunhee, glanced through the window.

She saw only Jimin and Yoongi entering the building together, their heads bent close. 

She didn’t see Tae or his sister waiting inside. To her, it looked like something secret, something intimate.

Curious and quick, she snapped a few photos. She texted Myunhee - “That’s your cousin, right? I wasn’t expecting to see him here.

The moment Myunhee saw the photos, her eyes got shocked. She whispered to her mother - See what my friend sent. What's Jimin doing in a hospital with Yoongi that too Gynaecology wing. 

A slow, calculating smile spread across her lips and said  “If people hear about this, it will make quite a stir. And maybe… it’ll work in our favor.”  

She was trying to sow discord for Jimin between her family. As Jimin was the most appreciated and she used to feel jealous of him and seeing with Yoongi made her mad. 

Later that night, she approached Jimin’s father, her expression carefully composed into one of innocence.

Holding up the photo, she said softly, “Uncle, don’t you think this looks… wrong? Jimin going to the gynecologist building with Yoongi—what will people think? You know how conservative society is. You could become a laughing stock.”

Her words, carefully chosen and dripping with concern, stirred unease in Jimin’s father. He frowned, the image unsettling him. She pressed on, lowering her voice. “Being with Yoongi like this… it’s making him bold, reckless. Don’t you think you should do something about it?”

She was saying this referring to the secret of Jimin. She was twisting it for its own advantage. 

Unbeknownst to her, Yoongi’s mother had been nearby. She overheard every word.

A shadow of embarrassment crossed her face, and though her heart ached, she stepped forward and said to Jimin's father

“I am sorry for my son’s behavior,” she said quietly but firmly. “I will take care of him in my own way.”

When Yoongi and Jimin returned later that evening, Yoongi’s mother pulled him aside, her tone a mix of hurt and disappointment.

“You never cared about us in the past, and now… this. Do you know how it looked. It embarrassed me, Yoongi. What were you doing with Jimin?”

Yoongi’s expression darkened, his sadness plain. “I was doing nothing wrong, just helping Jimin. Why do you think so low of me every time, Eomma? If you think I was wrong, then I’m sorry.”

He turned away, his shoulders heavy with unspoken pain and left from there.

On the other side of the house, Jimin’s parents confronted him sharply. “Why were you with Yoongi?”

Jimin - How do you know I was with Yoongi?

Jimin's Dad- Myunhee showed us photos of you too together. Now answer my question I asked you earlier. 

Jimin explained hurriedly, words tumbling out in his desperation to clear the air. “Tae called me for help. My bike wasn’t working, and Yoongi said he could drop me to Tae. That’s why I was with him—nothing else.”

His parents exchanged looks, uncertain, but they said nothing more.

Jimin then asked his parents - Something happened? Why are you looking worried. 

They told him how Yoongi's mother came to apologise for Yoongi's behaviour. You weren't responding your calls and then the photos depicted something else and Myunhee words made a point too. 

Jimin didn't said anything and went from there. 

Later, when everything had finally settled down, Jimin slipped away from the noise, his heart heavy.

Standing quietly in the shadows, away from prying eyes, he whispered into the silence, “I’m so sorry, Yoongi.” Because of me you got dragged too. 

Jimin’s apology lingered in the air, unheard, while Yoongi carried his silence like a shield neither of them knew how to put down.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12 

Jimin waited outside the quiet bakery, shifting from foot to foot, glancing at the street every time someone passed.

The soft smell of fresh bread and sugar floated in the air, but it didn’t soothe his nerves. He was expecting Jungkook, as always, hoping to ask him for Yoongi’s phone number.

His fingers kept fiddling with the hem of his sleeve, his chest tightening with unease.

After ten more minutes, Jungkook finally arrived. His hair was messy from rushing, and his warm smile briefly made Jimin’s anxiety lessen.

He ordered his usual, and added something for Yoongi too—he had noticed the sadness lingering around Yoongi lately and wanted to cheer him up.

Jungkook’s kindness was simple, effortless, but it often reached deeper than he realized.

“Jungkook,” Jimin said, leaning slightly, voice softer than usual, “can you give me Yoongi’s number? I need to talk to him.”

“Here. But… be gentle, okay?” Jungkook’s tone was firm, protective.

Jimin felt a wave of nervousness. Sitting at a corner table, he stared at his phone, typing a message, deleting it, then typing again.

His thumb hovered, his heart pounding as though the simple act of sending a text would decide everything between them.

Finally, after what felt like hours of hesitation, he hit send:

To Yoongi Hyung:

Hyung, it’s me, Jimin. I got your number from Jungkook. I wanted to say sorry for yesterday. Because of me, your mother scolded you too. It wasn’t my intention to drag you into it. I feel guilty… I owe you one.

Yoongi, caught up in meetings, noticed the notification late.

He was surrounded by files, his tie loose around his neck, exhaustion in his eyes. When he opened the message, his expression twitched—almost a smile—but sadness lingered too.

For a moment, he just stared at Jimin’s words, the sincerity bleeding through them. Then, with a long exhale, he quickly replied, trying to lighten the mood:

It wasn’t entirely your fault, so it’s okay.

And just like that, both went back to their busy days—Jimin at the bakery, hands dusted in flour and mind wandering, Yoongi buried in work, drowning in deadlines and phone calls.

Messages went unanswered, conversations left unsaid, leaving a quiet ache in the spaces between them.

It was time for the pre-wedding shoot. Everyone was getting ready, the air buzzing with chatter and laughter. Jin and his mother had already arrived, dressed neatly and with excitement brimming in their voices.

Jin chatted casually with Jimin near the backdrop of pastel flowers and fairy lights.

Their conversation flowed easily, but before long, a call interrupted him. His phone buzzed insistently.

Excusing himself with a polite smile, he promised to return shortly.

Meanwhile, Myunhee was plotting. A dangerous idea was forming in her mind, fueled by envy that had been festering far too long. Her eyes darkened with resolve as she leaned close to her mother, whispering her scheme.

Her mother listened carefully, lips pressed into a thin line, before finally nodding, sensing the opportunity and agreeing to assist.

Later, Myunhee carried a glass of juice, her steps deliberately measured. She pretended to stumble, bumping into Jin at just the right moment.

The juice spilled over his clothes, staining them instantly. Jin looked startled, flustered, while Myunhee feigned wide-eyed innocence.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, oppa!” she said, voice dripping with false regret.

Jimin arrived moments later, noticing the mess.

Without a second thought, he offered, “You can change in my room if you want. It’s just upstairs.” His tone was calm, helpful, completely unaware of the trap unfolding.

Jin hesitated but then nodded gratefully, heading inside. Myunhee’s eyes glimmered with something far darker than apology.

Seizing the opportunity, she sneaked after him. With her phone in hand, she snapped close-up photos of Jin while he changed, her movements quick and calculated.

She returned to the group moments later, pretending nothing had happened. Her smile was warm, her demeanor casual, and no one suspected a thing.

But under the surface, her jealousy had twisted into something far more dangerous but she didn't understood. She just wanted to humiliate Jimin someway. 

The pre-wedding shoot went on smoothly, with laughter echoing and cameras capturing moments that were meant to be cherished. But the following morning shattered that fragile peace.

A shocking headline blazed across every screen:

“Yoongi’s Brother getting frisky?? Intimate photos leak.  See Close-Up Pics!”

The words were cruel, sensational, and unforgiving.

Jin and his mother were mortified, faces pale as the neighbors whispered and phones buzzed with gossip.

Shame wrapped around them like chains. Yoongi, furious beyond measure, slammed the newspaper onto the table, his jaw tight. Rage boiled in his chest as he rushed to their house demanding answers.

Jin explained everything—the juice spill, Jimin’s offer to let him change in his room, and how it all unfolded.

Yoongi’s anger skyrocketed. Hearing Jimin’s name sent a pang of betrayal straight through him.

His thoughts spiraled, dark and irrational: How could Jimin do this? He was the one who told Jin to change here. Who else could have leaked the photos?

Here Yoongi's mind was having different thoughts. He wanted to help his family even though they were not close. 

He had the guilt of earlier till now that he wasn't able to help so this time he wanted to do whatever he can in his power to help his family. 

Despite his fury, something tugged at Yoongi deep inside. A quiet voice, fragile but stubborn, refused to let him condemn Jimin completely. He clenched his fists, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I will prove you innocent, Jin,” he said through gritted teeth. His eyes hardened with determination. “Whoever did this will pay.”

But inside, his heart was a storm—torn between protecting his family and doubting the boy who had apologized so earnestly just a day ago.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Yoongi sat in his office, the city lights flickering far below, but none of it reached him.  His mind was trapped on a single image. The way it all looked. The only name echoing in his thoughts: Jimin.

Anger, disappointment, and a gnawing sense of betrayal coiled inside him, making the silence unbearable.

“Take down every newspaper printing about Jin,” he barked at Jungkook, his tone cutting like a blade. “Track the IP address that leaked the photos.”

The younger man nodded, hurrying to obey, but the tension in the air was thick, suffocating.

After some time, Jungkook returned, his voice steady but hesitant. “All newspaper clips are removed. The IP is protected—it’s taking longer. But… we traced it to Jimin’s room. The posting device is still unidentified.”

The words hit Yoongi like a stone. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms until they stung.

His family’s safety, their reputation—those mattered more than his growing feelings for Jimin, more than the fragile hope he had been nursing.

Right now, all he could see was betrayal. Right now, Jimin could only be the culprit.

Meanwhile, at the bakery, Jimin tried to focus on the only thing that had ever grounded him. The scent of fresh bread, the soft rhythm of kneading dough—normally, these small rituals calmed him.

But today, even the familiar comfort felt hollow. Thoughts of Jin’s humiliation haunted him, replaying over and over like a nightmare that refused to let him wake.

His chest ached with a heaviness he couldn’t shake.

As he was setting the counter, Mr. Hyun approached. “My father wants to see you in his office,” he said gently.

Jimin’s brows lifted. The summons wasn’t ordinary. Heart beating faster, he followed.

Mr. Owen, the bakery’s original owner, looked at him with tired but kind eyes. His voice, though aged, carried warmth. “Your dedication has kept this shop alive, Jimin. Because of you, it’s flourishing. I want to give you the rights to this bakery.”

For a moment, Jimin couldn’t breathe. His throat tightened, eyes stinging as a flood of emotions rose inside him—relief, joy, pride. This was more than recognition.

It was a dream, something he had never thought he was worthy of. A piece of stability in a life that had always felt fragile.

He was overjoyed, his heart aching to share the news with those he loved. Tae was the first to know, his laughter ringing through the air as he hugged Jimin tightly. “You deserve it, Jiminie. No one deserves it more than you.”

Jimin smiled, the happiness radiant, almost enough to push away the shadows. When he told his parents at evening, he saw warmth in their eyes. 

But before they could even celebrate the news, a shadow fell over the fragile celebration.

Yoongi appeared. His presence filled the room like a stormcloud, dark and suffocating. In his hand was an envelope.

His eyes—once soft when they looked at Jimin—were cold and unyielding now.

“Here,” he said, tossing the envelope toward him.

Confused, Jimin bent to pick it up. “What… is this?”

“It’s payment.” Yoongi’s voice was sharp, laced with disdain. Every word was a knife. “For the time we were friends. Didn’t you befriend me for money? What else could I expect from a lowly bakery worker like you?”

The words stabbed straight into Jimin’s heart, twisting cruelly.

He stood frozen, trembling, the envelope heavy in his hands as if it weighed more than the world itself.

Yoongi’s anger drowned everything else, leaving no room for explanation, no space for truth.

“Next time,” Yoongi continued, his voice deliberately cruel, “don’t befriend someone above your status with your charm for money.”

Then, without another glance, he turned and walked away. The sound of his departure echoed like a wound tearing open, leaving Jimin bleeding in silence.

His father’s voice broke through the shock, but it wasn’t the comfort Jimin craved. It was worse.

“I never expected this from you,” his father said, shame and fury twisting his face. “Is this the reason you got the promotion in bakery."  His voice cracked, heavy with disappointment, before he stormed off, leaving Jimin standing in the wreckage of his world.

Jimin’s hands shook, his vision blurred, his breaths shallow. Today should have been a celebration. Today should have been light.

Instead, it had become a nightmare. His heart shattered—not just from Yoongi’s words, but from the crushing disappointment in his father’s eyes, from the sense of isolation pressing him into the ground.

And as if fate wanted to test him further, another blow came swiftly, mercilessly. The stress and fury had been too much for his father earlier from the wedding and now listening about Jimin—he collapsed in his room, a heart attack striking him down.

Jimin rushed him to the hospital, numb with fear, guilt, and exhaustion. He stayed by his father’s side, hands clutching cold hospital sheets, suppressing his own pain, swallowing every scream that threatened to tear free.

For a week, Jimin and Yoongi did not speak. The silence between them stretched, heavy and cruel, filled with misunderstandings Myunhee had carefully spun like a spider’s web.

Neither knew how to untangle it. Neither dared to reach for the other. And yet, the bond they had been forging—the fragile, tender thread—threatened to snap entirely.

But Yoongi’s presence refused to leave Jimin. Every thought screamed at him, twisting the knife deeper: Yoongi had humiliated him, destroyed him. And yet, his heart felt that whatever they had was genuine. 

For once, Jimin had thought happiness might be his—that maybe, in Yoongi, he had found someone who could see him, love him, stay by his side. But it had been destroyed before it even started.

Far above, Yoongi stood at his window, the city stretched beneath him, the moon hanging cold and distant.

A storm brewed in his chest, tearing him apart. He replayed every image of Jimin in his mind—hurt, trembling, yet still burning with something he couldn’t define.

Not entirely guilty. Not entirely innocent.

And as much as Yoongi hated himself for it, he knew with terrifying clarity: this wasn’t the end. He hadn’t seen the last of this mess, and neither had Jimin.

The silence between them wasn’t peace. It was a fuse, burning slowly. The calm before a storm neither of them were ready for.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Jimin moved through his home like a ghost, his steps soundless, his expression blank.

The sterile smell of the hospital clung stubbornly to his clothes and skin, as if mocking him with the reminder of his father’s sudden heart attack—an event no one could have foreseen, striking on a day that had promised nothing but joy.

And yet, the memory that hurt more than the hospital corridors was Yoongi’s voice.

Every word he had thrown at Jimin replayed again and again, sharper each time, until it cut like glass.

The mockery, the accusations, the cold dismissal—humiliation pressed down on Jimin with a weight he couldn’t erase, couldn’t forgive.

Far away, Yoongi sat in silence, the city buzzing beneath his window like a restless sea. His thoughts churned with guilt, anger, and something he refused to name.

He had humiliated Jimin, yes, had crushed him beneath words sharper than knives—but it hadn’t stopped the constant intrusion of Jimin’s face in his mind.

Every decision, every thought, every breath seemed to circle back to him, to that impossible connection that refused to be severed, no matter how hard Yoongi tried to bury it.

And so, somewhere between hospital corridors and lonely office towers, the fragile threads binding them together were fraying, thinning with each passing day—but not breaking. Not yet.

Three days later, Jimin’s father was finally discharged. Relief washed through the household, but it was tempered by the doctor’s strict orders: no stress, no worry, nothing that could endanger his fragile recovery. Jimin clung to those words like a duty carved into stone.

But peace was short-lived. The day after tomorrow was Sara’s wedding.

Each function leading up to it had been dramatic, marred by whispers and accusations. His aunt, sharp-tongued and unforgiving, turned her blame squarely on Jimin.

She accused him of always seeking attention, of bringing chaos wherever he went. Her words stung, not just for their cruelty but because they dripped with disdain that had long existed beneath the surface.

Finally, she ordered him to stay away from the wedding altogether—her assurance that, without him, things would proceed smoothly.

Hurt, humiliated, but unwilling to add further tension, Jimin agreed.

The days blurred together, one bleeding into the next. Finally, the wedding day arrived. The house buzzed with activity, laughter, the rich sounds of celebration.

The ceremonies proceeded as planned, every ritual falling into place, and hours later, Sara’s wedding concluded with blessings, tears, and the warmth of family gathered around.

Jimin stood in the background, unnoticed, as if he were invisible. Watching quietly, he forced a smile when his cousin’s happiness shone.

Yet inside, a pang of sadness struck him deep. He thought of the connection he had almost dared to hope for with Yoongi—the brief flicker of something tender, something real.

But Yoongi’s had crushed it completely, leaving behind only ashes.

When sadness takes root, time loses its meaning. Days became indistinguishable, an endless cycle with no beginning, no end.

One quiet afternoon, Jin’s mother paid a visit to Jimin’s family. As they sat together, she looked at Jimin with kind eyes and said softly, “You’re lucky to have a son like him. He’s such a blessing to your family.”

But Jimin’s mother corrected her gently, her voice carrying the weight of a hidden truth.

“You’re are not wrong but He isn’t just our son. He’s our son-in-law. He married my son Minjun two years ago.

But… Minjun passed away only seven hours after their wedding.” Her eyes glistened, though her voice remained steady. “Society branded Jimin an ill omen, blaming him for our loss. But we refused to abandon him. We chose to be his pillar instead. Hoseok may be his brother-in-law, but to Jimin, he is a true brother. Jimin has no family of his own. So we became his family.”

The revelation struck Jin’s mother like a sudden storm. She hadn’t expected such a story, such resilience woven with sorrow.

And slowly, as she turned it over in her mind, an idea began to form. She thought Jimin should marry Yoongi.

Yoongi, in her eyes, needed someone strong, someone who could stand up to him, someone unafraid. To her, Jimin was the answer.

Even though they were not on good terms still she wanted Jimin for Yoongi. 

What she didn’t know, what no one told her, was the humiliation Yoongi had inflicted on Jimin just a week ago.

Meanwhile, Yoongi was drowning himself in work, preparing for an important meeting when his phone rang. His mother’s voice, firm as always, filled the line.

“I’m ready to move in with you, as you’ve always wanted,” she said.

His chest tightened. He had long wanted her close, especially after his father’s decline. “Really? You mean it?”

“Yes,” she replied, “but on one condition. You must marry Jimin.”

The words froze him in place. “Eomma… what are you saying? How can I marry him?” Memories surged back—memories of Jimin’s pained eyes, of his own harsh words, of the storm that had torn through them.

“If you can’t,” his mother’s tone sharpened, “forget it.” And with that, she hung up, leaving Yoongi staring at the silent phone in disbelief.

His greatest desire—to have his mother near—now clashed violently with the one thing he couldn’t imagine: marrying Jimin. He paced, restless, the conflict tearing him apart.

Finally, after hours of debate, Yoongi typed a message:

Can we meet? I have something important to discuss with you.

The notification buzzed on Jimin’s phone while he was at the bakery, whisking batter for muffins.

Baking usually soothed him, gave his mind order when life felt chaotic. But this time, curiosity won. With a scoff, and perhaps a flicker of defiance, he agreed to meet.

They met in a quiet park. The air was heavy with unspoken tension, the silence louder than words. Jimin spoke first, his voice trembling with the weight of frustration long held back.

“I thought there was a connection between us,” he said, eyes burning. “But you destroyed it. What did I do to deserve this? I only told Jin to change in my room—I didn’t know what would happen.”

Yoongi’s gaze darkened, his words cold. “My brother was humiliated in front of everyone. It happened in your room, at your suggestion. What would any logical person think?”

He paused, his next words cutting sharper than any blade. “But I didn’t come here to argue. I came to ask something else. Marry me.”

Jimin recoiled as if struck. His voice rose, raw with disbelief. “Are you out of your mind? Why would I ever marry you?”

Yoongi leaned forward slightly, his tone like steel. “I don’t care what you feel. You have to marry me. I’ll make it happen—by hook or by crook. You haven’t seen the ruthless businessman in me. If I want something, I get it.”

Yoongi had always wanted his mother and brother to live with him and when he got the chance he doesn't want to miss it even if it comes at cost of Jimin. 

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Jimin frozen.

Jimin’s breath came shallow, his mind reeling. He had never imagined Yoongi could be this merciless. The fragile hope he had once clung to—the hope of reconciliation, of healing—shattered completely.

For the first time, Jimin saw the true depth of Yoongi’s ruthlessness. And he understood, with chilling clarity, the full weight of what it might cost him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

After Jimin blatantly rejected Yoongi, he buried himself in work. His bakery became more than a livelihood—it became the only place where he could silence his heart by pouring all his energy into kneading dough, decorating pastries, and serving customers with a practiced smile.

His father’s frail health cast a shadow over every waking moment, a reminder that one wrong move, one added stress, could tip the balance. Jimin had promised himself—he wouldn’t let his father suffer because of him.

Days stretched into weeks like this. Jimin numb. Yoongi relentless. The unspoken war between them simmered just beneath the surface.

It was just another day at the bakery, the smell of fresh bread lingering in the air, when Jimin’s phone buzzed. He wiped his flour-dusted hands on his apron and picked up, only to hear the voice of his brother.

Hobi: “I don’t know how I got involved in the legal complications of the company I’m working in. The case was under me, so they’re putting the blame on me. Do you know any capable lawyer who can help me? Otherwise, they’ll send me to jail. I didn’t tell anyone at home—father’s condition is serious. He shouldn’t be given stress at all.”

The world seemed to tilt under Jimin’s feet.

Jimin: “Oh no, hyung. How did this happen? I’ll try to find an eligible lawyer who can take our case.”

Hobi: “Do tell me if you get any updates,” he said, voice low and tired, before cutting the call.

Jimin froze, phone still pressed to his ear long after the line went dead. A storm raged inside him—fear, anger, helplessness. What’s going on with my life? When will this tough patch end? Why is my family going through this?

It's just that one year difference between Hobi and Jimin didn't change anything. Hobi used to share his problem with Jimin and Jimin did the same too. They made it seem like they are of same age. 

Determined to help his brother, Jimin decided to reach out to Jungkook.

Jimin (text): “Do you know any good lawyer? I need help for my brother.”

Jungkook: “Sorry Jimin, I don’t know any good lawyer. But Yoongi hyung has many contacts—he may be able to help. Why don’t you ask him?”

Jimin: “Okay… never mind. I’ll see what I can do.”

His chest tightened. Jungkook’s words made sense, but the thought of going back to Yoongi— after the humiliation was unbearable. He would rather go through hell than bend his pride before Yoongi again.

So he tried. He searched, called, begged for recommendations. But every road was a dead end.

Then another text from Hobi came, short but heavy:

“Got anything? We need to act fast.”

Jimin’s throat went dry. His fingers trembled as he typed back:

“I’m on it. I’ll tell you after I find something.”

But inside, he knew he was cornered.

Finally, with no options left, Jimin swallowed the lump of pride that had been choking him and sent the one message he had dreaded.

Jimin typed, erased, and retyped until finally pressing send:

“Do you… know someone who could help with a legal case? It’s for my brother.

The reply was instant, cold and commanding:

Yoongi: “I know someone. Let’s discuss it in person. Come to my office.”

Jimin stared at the screen, pulse hammering. His instincts screamed at him to stay away. But Hoseok’s voice echoed in his head—Otherwise, they’ll send me to jail.

The next morning, he found himself walking into Yoongi’s office building. The air inside was stifling, every echo of his footsteps bouncing back like judgment.

The elevator ride felt endless, his reflection in the mirrored walls looking back at him with pale determination.

Yoongi was waiting when he arrived, leaning against his desk with unnerving calm. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes—dark, sharp, calculating—were anything but.

“You’re here because you need a lawyer,” Yoongi said, calm but certain. “I suppose that means you’ve decided I’m your only option.”

Jimin’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to involve you, but I have no other options.”

When tension between them could be cut with a knife Yoongi said,

“I have lawyers,” he continued, finally straightening, his tone smooth but edged with steel. “Capable ones. The best. They can handle your brother’s case. But,” he paused, letting the silence stretch until Jimin’s nerves were taut, “you’ll need to follow my instructions. Exactly. No deviations.”

Jimin’s stomach twisted. Follow his instructions? After everything?

He swallowed, forcing the words out “I’ll follow your instructions… but only because it’s for my brother, not because I like it.”

Yoongi gave a single nod, but the air between them only grew heavier. It was no longer just about the law—it was about power.

And Jimin could feel every thread tightening around him.

When he finally left Yoongi’s office, his steps were leaden, his heart weighed down. Relief for Hobi was secured, but at a cost Jimin couldn’t begin to measure.

By evening, the lawyer Yoongi had arranged called.

“Mr. Park, we’ve reviewed the case. With the right approach, we can get your brother cleared.”

Relief rushed through Jimin like water to a man dying of thirst—but it carried with it the bitter taste of resentment.

He wanted to hate Yoongi, to resent him for forcing his hand. But all he could feel was a dizzying tangle of gratitude and disgust regarding the situation he got tangled in. 

That night, Jimin sat alone in his bakery, hands trembling as he scribbled notes, trying to help however he could.

The hum of the refrigerator, the faint tick of the clock—it was all too quiet, leaving only his thoughts to gnaw at him.

He told himself not to think about Yoongi. But the shadow of those piercing eyes clung to him, refusing to let go.

Meanwhile, Yoongi returned to his office, the faintest smirk playing on his lips.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the armrest. He came to me, Yoongi thought. And he doesn’t even realize what that means. Power, control, pride—it all tastes sharper than victory.

Jimin didn’t want Yoongi’s help. Not after everything. But with his brother’s freedom on the line, he had no choice. And deep down, he hated that truth more than anything.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

The morning sun fell softly across the bakery, but it did nothing to lift the weight on Jimin’s chest. The world seemed too bright for the storm brewing inside.

The world seemed too bright for the storm brewing inside. Papers for Hobi’s case lay scattered across the table, but instead of Jimin dragging himself through them alone, Hobi’s voice filled the silence.

“The lawyer called again this morning,” Hobi said, tapping the edge of a document. “We went over a few things together. Honestly, Jimin, I don’t think I’d even have gotten this far if it weren’t for you.”

Jimin forced a small smile, nodding as Hobi continued explaining how the lawyer had guided him.

The words should have felt like relief—proof that things were moving forward—but instead they sat heavy in his chest.

Because even in Hobi’s gratitude, Jimin could feel it: Yoongi’s hand behind everything.

No matter how much he wanted to pretend otherwise, Yoongi’s shadow lingered in every word.

Relief should mean breathing freely again. But this relief pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. All he felt was anger at the way things were spiraling, guilt for not being able to control them, and something he refused to name.

Pride told him to push away, to resist, but Hobi’s freedom depended on him swallowing it.

The bakery bell rang, pulling him back to reality. The sound was sharp, familiar, grounding. Customers came and went, offering smiles, coins, and polite chatter. 

Then, his phone buzzed. The vibration on the wooden table made him flinch. He froze, staring at it, heart hammering against his ribs before he dared to look.

Yoongi: Check your email. We need to review some documents today.

Jimin clenched his jaw so tightly it hurt. He wanted to throw the phone but he unlocked it, opened his inbox, and let Yoongi’s words pull him deeper.

The clock ticked on unnoticed, its rhythm steady against the chaos inside him. A knock at the bakery door startled him so much he nearly spilled his coffee.

He whipped his head toward it, pulse racing. No one, he told himself.Just the wind rattling the glass. The bell rang anyway, faintly swaying with the breeze.

His phone buzzed again.

Yoongi: Come to my office after closing. We need to finalize this today.

Jimin’s stomach twisted. Every instinct screamed no. He wanted to ignore it, block the number, slam the door in Yoongi’s face.

But the stakes were too high. Hobi could go to jail. His father’s health could spiral if the stress grew worse. Pride be damned—he didn’t have a choice.

That evening, he closed the bakery with heavy hands. Jimin walked through it all with the weight of Yoongi’s control pressing closer with every step. He hated himself for obeying it.

When he arrived, Yoongi was already there, standing by the window of his office. He looked calm, unmoved, almost dangerous in his stillness.

The office felt colder than Jimin remembered. The city glowed outside the tall windows, but in here the air was heavy, still, like the walls themselves knew this was the end of something.

Yoongi stood by the desk, a folder already open in front of him. He didn’t look up when Jimin entered—just flipped a page with measured calm, as though he had all the time in the world.

“This is it,” Yoongi said finally, voice low but certain. “The last set of documents. Once these are filed, the case moves forward.”

Jimin stepped closer, his chest tightening at the sight of Hobi’s name printed in bold. Relief should have come with the words, but it didn’t. Because then Yoongi looked at him.

“Don’t try anything clever,” Yoongi warned, his gaze sharp as glass. “You’ve seen how quickly this can turn. One misstep, one deviation—he could still go to jail.”

The words landed like chains around Jimin’s ribs. He wanted to protest, to shout that he wasn’t reckless, that all he cared about was Hobi’s freedom.

But the quiet certainty in Yoongi’s tone left no space for arguments.

Yoongi leaned back against the desk, folding his arms. “You’ve followed me this far,” he continued, softer now, though no less dangerous. “Don’t stop now. Not when everything hangs on a thread.”

Jimin swallowed hard, the taste of iron on his tongue. He hated this—hated being cornered, hated that Yoongi was right.

Because no matter how much he resented the man standing before him, Hobi’s future rested in his hands. And that meant Jimin’s choices weren’t his own anymore.

For a long moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint hum of the city beyond the glass. Jimin lowered his gaze to the folder, the papers that had cost his brother so many sleepless nights.

His fingers trembled as he reached for them, knowing that with every signature, every step, he was tying himself tighter to Yoongi’s will.

And Yoongi—calm, watchful, unreadable—never once looked away.

Jimin went out from there after this as there was nothing left to talk about. 

Jimin walked home slowly, each step heavier than the last. The streetlights blurred into streaks as his mind raced.

How would he tell his family? How could he explain that he was agreeing to marry someone he had just rejected, someone whose presence still made his chest tighten with a mix of resentment and… something he didn’t want to admit?

 His heart ached at the thought of adding even the smallest burden to his family's shoulders. Could he really let them know that this marriage was not born out of love, but out of obligation—because he owed Yoongi?

He imagined his mother’s worried eyes, Hobi’s relieved smile—and a pang of guilt struck him.

He had saved his brother, but at what cost? And now, he would have to face the people who had become his family, who depended on him, and tell them he was stepping into a life he hadn’t chosen freely.

Jimin sat on the edge of his bed, clutching his phone, staring at Yoongi’s last message. He wanted to scream, to cry, to disappear—but he couldn’t. Not when everyone was counting on him.

Finally, he whispered to himself, almost like a promise he didn’t entirely believe yet:

“I’ll tell them… tomorrow. I’ll find a way to make them understand. Somehow.”

And with that, he lay down, eyes wide open, the weight of the future pressing down on him.

Jimin woke up early, heart heavy, and made a decision. He couldn’t put it off any longer. He called Hobi and his mother to his room. “I need to talk to you both… it’s important,” he said, voice tight but steady.

Hobi was first to arrive, leaning against the doorframe. “What’s going on, Jimin?”

Jimin took a deep breath. “Hobi Hyung… I.... I’m going to marry Yoongi.”

Hobi froze, eyes wide. “Wait… what? But—why? I thought—”

“I didn’t have much choice,” Jimin interrupted gently, “and… I needed to secure your situation with the lawyers. I didn’t want to drag you into more trouble.”

Hobi’s shoulders slumped, a mixture of shock and relief washing over him. He stepped closer and put a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “Jimin… you always put everyone else first. I know you did this for me, but… don’t forget to take care of yourself too.”

Jimin managed a small, tired smile. “I’ll be okay… I just needed to make sure you’re safe.”

Before Jimin could respond further, his mother entered, frowning as she noticed the tense atmosphere. “What’s going on here? What are you both talking together so early in the morning?”

Jimin swallowed hard. “Mom… I need to tell you something important. Please… don’t be angry.”

She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. “Jimin? Tell me what it is.”

“I… I agreed to marry Yoongi,” he said softly.

Her reaction was immediate. She stepped back, hands gripping the edge of his desk. Her eyes flared with anger. “Jimin! You should have consulted us first! How can you make a decision like this on your own?” Why you did this? 

Jimin flinched, voice barely above a whisper. “I… I only told you and Hobi. I didn’t want to overwhelm anyone else yet. I thought it was better you knew first.”

She let out a sharp breath, pacing the small space, fingers clenched in frustration. “Better I knew first? Jimin, we’re your family! Life-changing decisions—marriage!—you don’t just… decide alone! Do you know how worried this makes me?”

“I know, Mom,” he said, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I wanted to protect you and Dad… I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Hobi stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “Mom… I know he’s our little brother, but he’s trying his best. He did this to protect me, and for the family. He didn’t mean to hide it from anyone—it’s just… complicated.” 

She stopped suddenly, planting her hands firmly on her hips, chest rising and falling with tension. “Protect you and our family? From what, Jimin? From being part of your life choices? You’re my son! We should be included in these decisions, not told after the fact!”

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispered. “I only shared it with you and Hobi for now… the rest of the family will know in time. I didn’t want to overwhelm everyone.”

Hobi gave Jimin a small, reassuring nod. “You did what you had to do, Jimin. It was the right thing. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

She softened slightly but still looked stern, walking over to place a hand on his shoulder. “Jimin… I’m angry, yes. But I trust you. Promise me next time, you’ll talk to us first. We’re your family—we face things together, no matter what.”

Jimin let out a shaky breath, relief and guilt mingling in his chest. He hadn’t told his father, and the rest of the family would find out later—but at least for now, he had shared the weight with those who mattered most.

Even in the quiet of his room, the tension lingered. His life was about to take a sharp turn, and no one—not Hobi, not his mother,

not even himself—was truly ready for what was coming.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

Jimin woke before sunrise, the dim light just barely brushing against the curtains.

Today wasn’t about the bakery, or errands, or the gentle rhythm of daily routines—it was about a step so heavy, so final, that it threatened to shift the entire map of his life.

He had prepared the documents, each sheet of paper crisp, official, unforgiving. Every form carried the weight of decisions he hadn’t truly wanted to make, yet had been forced into for the people he loved. For his brother. For his mother. For the fragile sense of security they all clung to.

At the District Office, life moved at its usual brisk pace. The murmur of clerks calling names, the scratch of pens, the faint clatter of typewriters—it was all background noise. To Jimin, everything else blurred, except for Yoongi.

Yoongi stood beside him, calm, intense, commanding in that quiet way of his. He didn’t fidget, didn’t break his composure. If Jimin was a storm beneath the skin, Yoongi was stone.

“You ready?” Yoongi’s voice was low, steady. It wasn’t a question that allowed hesitation.

Jimin swallowed hard, nodded once, and stepped forward. The procedure unfolded quickly—signatures across dotted lines,  repeated phrases of binding legality.

Each stroke of Jimin’s pen felt like a chain linking him tighter, and yet beneath it all lingered something more complicated: a promise. A promise that Hobi would walk free. That his family wouldn’t crumble again. 

When it was over, the officer’s words faded  leaving only the tension stretched thin between Jimin and Yoongi.

Jimin's mother stood nearby, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes heavy with conflict—anger at the circumstances, concern for her son, but powerless to change what had already been sealed. Hobi, on the other hand, offered a small, hesitant smile, gratitude flickering through his exhaustion.

As they stepped out of the office, the early morning air felt heavier, not lighter. Jimin could feel the shift deep inside him—his life was no longer entirely his own.

The path had narrowed, defined by signatures he couldn’t erase. And yet… for the first time in weeks, there was a thread of relief weaving through the dread. Fragile, sharp, almost cruel—but real. Hobi was safe. His family was safe. That was enough. For now.

Yoongi’s voice pulled him from his thoughts as they descended the steps. Calm, certain, unyielding.

“We’re married now,” he said simply, each word deliberate. “Move in with me.”

The statement wasn’t a suggestion—it was his new reality now.  His heart wanted to resist, to shout, to refuse. But the truth was iron in his veins: he owed Yoongi, and there was no way around it.

With slow, heavy movements, he nodded, each gesture weighted with resignation.

His mother, watching closely, let her expression soften for just a moment. She reached out, touching his shoulder, her thumb brushing against the fabric of his sleeve like she was reassuring herself that he was still there. “Just… take care of each other,” she whispered, her voice tight with worry.

Hobi stepped forward, placing a steady hand at Jimin’s back. “We’ll handle things at home,” he said, gentle but firm, as though to remind Jimin he wasn’t carrying this alone.

Jimin drew a long, trembling breath. The future loomed, heavy and uncertain, but there was no turning back. Step by step, he would face it—for his brother, for his mother… and maybe, in some buried corner of his heart, even for himself.

On the other side after coming out from the district office Yoongi went straight to his mother’s home.

“Mom,” he said firmly as he entered, his voice leaving no room for negotiation. “I married Jimin, just as you wanted. Now it’s your turn—you’ll come live with me.”

His mother met his gaze, steady and composed. “Fine,” she answered, calm but decisive. “I’ll come—with Jin.”

Yoongi went from there after hearing this and he was finally going to get what he always wanted so he wanted everything to be perfect for them.

Then Jin stepped out from his room, disbelief written across his face. His voice cracked with anger. “What am I hearing, Mom? Yoongi married Jimin? You forced him into this! Don’t you see what you’ve done? You ruined Jimin's life!”

Jin never considered Jimin's at fault so he was feeling bad for Jimin as according to him Yoongi is not good person. 

But his mother’s expression didn’t waver, stern as stone. “I don’t want to argue. This was necessary. Now pack your bags. We’re moving into Yoongi’s mansion.”

Jin’s mouth opened, then closed. He hesitated, torn between outrage and resignation, but in the end, he obeyed, gathering his things with reluctant silence.

Back at his own home, Jimin packed his essentials with quiet precision.  After hugging his mother tightly and sharing a quiet goodbye with Hobi, he left, carrying the weight of their unspoken fears along with his bag.

The car ride was silent. Thirty minutes stretched like hours before they finally reached the mansion. Yoongi guided him inside, his tone clipped but not unkind.

“This is your room,” he said, opening the door to a spacious, carefully prepared space. “The one next to yours is mine.”

It was Jimin's wish actually that they live in different room as he wants space for the time being. It was too much for him with whatever was going on with his life and Yoongi agreed. 

Jimin stepped inside, letting his eyes trace the unfamiliar walls. The room was beautiful, yes, but it wasn’t home. It felt foreign, like stepping into someone else’s story.

Exhaustion pulled at him—emotional, physical, spiritual. All he wanted was to collapse onto the bed, shut his eyes, and disappear into silence.

Not long after, Yoongi’s mother and Jin arrived. They were shown to their rooms, but she came almost immediately to Jimin’s door. When she knocked, he opened it, startled.

“Aunty… why are you standing there? Please, come in.”

She smiled softly, though her eyes carried shadows. “I am no longer an ‘aunty’ to you. Call me mother-in-law, or mom—whatever feels right. I just… wanted to apologize. I know this must all feel overwhelming. It was me who asked Yoongi to marry you. I had admired you from afar before, but never approached. When I learned about you from your mother, I felt… I could have you as my son-in-law. I’m sorry for my selfishness.”

Jimin shook his head, his voice quiet but steady. “It’s not your fault. What’s done is done. I’ll do my best to be a good son-in-law.”

Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder, warm and grounding. “If you ever need anything—if you have a problem—come to me. I’ll help however I can.”

“I will,” Jimin promised, sincerity threading through his exhaustion.

When she left, silence rushed back in. Jimin sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the blank wall. His mind replayed every moment, over and over, like a film stuck on loop.

I’m married now.

The words echoed in his head, unfamiliar and heavy. Relief, guilt, exhaustion, fear—they all twisted together inside him. He hadn’t chosen this, not freely.

Yet, deep inside, a small, stubborn voice whispered that maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be entirely unbearable. Maybe he could survive this. Maybe he could even…

He stopped himself before finishing the thought, shaking his head hard as though to push it away.

A few doors down, Yoongi leaned against his bedframe, eyes closed. The day had been decisive, irreversible, but far from resolved.

He wasn’t proud of how he had orchestrated things, but now that Jimin was here—here, within reach—something restless inside him finally quieted.

He’s here. With me. But he hates me for it.

Yoongi exhaled, long and heavy, the weight of his choices pressing against him. He didn’t know if Jimin would ever forgive him, or if this marriage would ever grow beyond duty and obligation.

But beneath all of that uncertainty, one thought rooted itself stubbornly in his chest:

I’ll figure it out. Slowly. Carefully. Somehow… I’ll make sure he’s okay. 

That night, the mansion fell into hush. Two lives, newly intertwined by signatures and circumstance, carried their storms into the quiet halls.

One was struggling to adjust, the other learning patience. And somewhere in that fragile silence, both wondered—would the threads between them ever weave into something more than tension and duty?

Chapter Text

Chapter 18

Jimin stirred awake to a new surrounding. The room was beautiful—spacious, polished, decorated with the kind of care that spoke of wealth and taste. But none of it felt like his. 

He hadn’t earned this space, hadn’t chosen it. He had simply been placed in someone else’s life.

Meanwhile, in another part of the mansion, Yoongi sat at the long dining table with his usual morning coffee. He held the cup the same way he always did, fingers curled around porcelain, steam curling upward.

But today, the bitterness felt different on his tongue. The silence that once comforted him now carried weight. It was no longer just silence—it was absence filled with presence.

Every breath reminded him he wasn’t alone anymore. Just a few doors away, Jimin existed in his space. Restless. Unwilling. But present.

For the first time in years, Yoongi’s house didn’t feel empty. And for Jimin, that same house had never felt heavier.

Jimin decided to cook for the new family. It was the only thing that felt normal.

 He prepared a simple breakfast, movements efficient: rice steaming, soup simmering, kimchi set neatly, eggs sizzling in the pan. His hands remembered every step, and for a short while, he could pretend he wasn’t lost in a world too big for him.

When the food was ready, he called Jin and Yoongi’s mother to eat. His voice was polite, steady, but carefully avoided one door upstairs. He didn’t knock on Yoongi’s. That wound was still too raw, the silence between them too sharp.

But Yoongi, drawn by the smell, descended anyway. He sat at the table, picking up a spoon with practiced ease.

“Eomma,” he said casually, tasting the soup, “you cooked so well. It’s been so long since I’ve had something like this.”

Yoongi’s mother glanced at Jimin and shook her head. “It wasn’t me. Thank Jimin.”

Yoongi froze, chopsticks midway to his mouth. His eyes flicked to Jimin, searching for something to say, but no words came.

Jimin kept his face calm, his posture perfect, eating quietly. Not once did he glance at Yoongi. When he finished, he turned to his new mother-in-law with a faint smile.

“I’ll be at the bakery. Call me if you need anything.”

And just like that, he left, footsteps steady, back straight.

Yoongi finished his meal in silence. The taste of soup lingered, but so did something else—an unfamiliar tension pressing against his chest. He left for the company shortly after.

By noon, Jimin’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.

Reception of our wedding is at 7 PM. Be ready.

The message was short, direct, a command more than an invitation. Jimin read it twice, expression unchanged. No reply. Just a quiet exhale before he buried himself in work again.

That evening, the mansion glittered with lights. Chandeliers blazed, golden against marble. Reporters swarmed outside, cameras flashing for a glimpse of the infamous “ruthless bachelor” and his mysterious new spouse.

Guests filled the hall, laughter and chatter blending with the pop of champagne corks.

At exactly seven, the chandeliers flickered. For a heartbeat, the room went dark. Murmurs rose. Then the lights surged back on, flooding the stage with brilliance.

All eyes turned to the center.

Jimin stood poised, a microphone in hand, dressed elegantly, his smile soft and graceful. The picture of composure.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen, and friends from the press,” he began, voice steady. “I am Min Jimin, and yes—it’s true. I recently tied the knot with Min Yoongi.”

The crowd leaned in, intrigued.

“Marriage isn’t something you plan,” Jimin continued. His tone was warm, his smile gentle. “I thought my life had ended once… but then Yoongi appeared, and he turned my world upside down.”

Yoongi’s chest tightened as he watched from the edge of the stage. The words should have soothed him, but then—Jimin’s expression shifted. The smile curled into something sharper, a smirk edged with cruelty.

“You know,” Jimin’s voice rang, “I was a widower. My world was colorless. Then Min Yoongi appeared… and forced me into this marriage.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Yoongi’s breath stuttered, his heart plummeting. His mother’s face paled, Jin’s eyes widened. Sweat traced a line down Yoongi’s temple. The word forced echoed like a knife.

He couldn’t breathe. He had never known. He had never even imagined Jimin carried such a past. And now, in front of hundreds—he was exposed. Condemned.

But then—

Yoongi blinked. The hall was normal again. The smirk was gone. The gasps faded into silence.

It hadn’t happened. None of it. It was only his imagination. His fear of disappointing his mother and brother painting Jimin’s words with venom.

On stage, Jimin was still smiling softly.

“I know our wedding was sudden, and we couldn’t invite you all to witness it. But today, I want to share something personal. Something that explains why this marriage means more to me than anyone realizes.”

The room hushed. Even Yoongi leaned forward, heart still racing.

Jimin inhaled, voice steady. “I was once a widower. For a long time, I believed my life would remain colorless, empty. But then Min Yoongi appeared… and turned my world upside down. He may look cold to the world, but he gave me hope again. He filled my life with colors I thought I’d never see.”

Applause thundered across the hall. Cameras flashed. Yoongi’s mother’s eyes softened, Jin clapped too.  Guests nodded, touched by the heartfelt confession.

But Yoongi—Yoongi froze.

Widower? The word slammed into him like ice water. He had known nothing of this. Nothing. And now Jimin was announcing it publicly, casually, like a truth Yoongi should have already been entrusted with.

His face betrayed nothing—stoic, controlled—but inside, he spiraled.

Why didn’t he tell me? What else don’t I know about him?

Jimin pressed on, his delivery flawless. “So tonight, in front of all of you, I want to thank my husband—for proposing to me and giving me a second chance at life.”

The crowd clapped again, enchanted.

Then Jimin produced a velvet box, opening it to reveal a gleaming ring. “And now, I’d like to invite my husband to the stage. Yoongi-ssi, will you help me put on this ring?”

Yoongi’s steps felt heavy as he walked forward. On the outside, calm. Inside, chaos. He leaned close, whispering through clenched teeth, “What is this, Jimin?”

Jimin’s smile didn’t falter. He didn’t even look at him. “If you don’t want a scene, just do as I say.”

Grinding his jaw, Yoongi slipped the ring onto Jimin’s finger. Cameras exploded in flashes, the crowd sighing with delight. Jimin repeated the gesture, sliding the band onto Yoongi’s hand, then bowed gracefully to their audience.

“Please enjoy the evening.”

Applause followed them off the stage, but Yoongi barely heard it. His chest was tight, his head spinning. He excused himself, slipping out for air, the memory of Jimin’s smile—perfect, unreadable—burning into his mind.

Later, back in his room, Jimin sat at the edge of his bed. He tugged the heavy ring off, staring at it in his palm, lips curling faintly.

Yoongi, if you think you can control me, you’re wrong.

His voice, low and certain, filled the empty room. “I was helpless once… never again. This time, Yoongi will learn whose game he’s playing.”

In another wing of the mansion, Yoongi sat alone, his own ring heavy on his hand. He turned it slowly between his fingers, thumb tracing the band. His chest ached—not with anger, but with something unfamiliar, unsteady.

Inside, the guests had clapped, smiling at Jimin’s words, touched by the story. His mother had looked proud, Jin had glowed with admiration. The world believed the picture Jimin had painted.

But Yoongi… Yoongi felt shaken.

Jimin had smiled on stage, but was it real? Was it mockery, a performance meant to put him in his place? Or was it armor—something Jimin wore to keep the world from seeing his cracks? And why—why had Yoongi felt a pang, sharp and unexpected, when Jimin had said he was grateful to him?

He closed his eyes, exhaling a long, ragged breath.

Park Jimin… who exactly are you?

The night wind brushed against his face, cooling the sweat at his temple. The applause was gone now, the lights dimmed, but silence was heavier than ever.

“This isn’t the marriage I imagined,” Yoongi admitted under his breath. His lips pressed tight, his chest still unsteady. “He defies me… yet I don’t hate it.”

And so the mansion held its quiet, vast and watchful, as two men under the same roof carried a war into the shadows—bound by vows neither had chosen, and a bond neither could yet name.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19

The days blurred into one another, each one marked by the familiar friction between Yoongi and Jimin. Every exchange felt like a tug of war—sometimes sharp, sometimes quiet, but always there, simmering beneath the surface.

One fine morning, Jimin headed to the bathroom only to realize no water was running from the taps or the shower. He twisted the handle once, twice, but not a drop came out.

 With no other choice—and not wanting the awkwardness of barging into his mother-in-law’s or Jin’s washroom—he decided to use Yoongi’s.

His steps were hesitant, yet firm, as though he was trying to convince himself it was the most practical option.

The door was open, and Yoongi stood there casually, brushing his teeth with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. 

Jimin froze mid-step, his breath catching in his throat. Then panic surged, and he blurted, “Why are you naked this early in the morning?!” His voice cracked slightly, betraying his embarrassment.

Yoongi smirked at his reaction, clearly enjoying the flustered look on Jimin’s face. He didn’t answer right away, as if savoring the moment.

Trying to ignore him, Jimin muttered, “Fine, just tell me how much longer you’ll take. My bathroom’s out of water, and I need to use this one.” He crossed his arms, attempting to look unaffected though his ears burned red.

“Ten minutes,” Yoongi said, leaning lazily against the sink.

Jimin said "Fine I will wait here". 

Then, with a teasing glint in Yoongi's eyes, he added, “Or maybe twenty. No—one hour.”

Jimin’s got annoyed and said “Suit yourself! I’m leaving.” His footsteps echoed sharply as he stormed out while Yoongi burst into laughter, the sound rich and unrestrained, filling the empty hallway.

Instead, Jimin slipped into the unused guest bathroom next door. Relief washed over him—until fate decided it wasn’t done messing with them.

A few minutes later, Jimin heard Yoongi’s shout echoing through the halls. “Reddy! Why isn’t water coming out of my shower?!” His voice was muffled yet urgent, irritation dripping from every word.

The servant rushed to check and spotted Jimin at the guest basin. “Ah, sir… it seems there is some problem with water connection. This tap is connected to Mr. Min’s shower. If you could just turn it off, he’ll get his water back.”

Rolling his eyes, Jimin complied, shutting the tap. Immediately, Yoongi sighed in relief as the shower came to life again, his voice softer this time, a low hum of contentment.

But revenge was sweet. Just when Yoongi had lathered himself in soap, Jimin mischievously turned the tap on again. Water in the shower cut off instantly.

“Reddy!” Yoongi shouted again, blinking furiously as soap stung his eyes. His irritation echoed down the hallway, but to Jimin it was almost comical.

Jimin, biting back laughter, waited a moment before shutting the guest tap again, restoring the shower. His shoulders shook, his lips pressed tightly together as he tried not to burst out.

By the time Yoongi emerged, fully dressed and fuming, his hair still slightly damp, he muttered under his breath, “Worst shower of my life.” His pride was bruised, his usual composure fractured.

Meanwhile, Jimin chuckled to himself, his eyes glinting with mischief. Now you know who you’re messing with, Min Yoongi.

Later at the office, Jungkook took one look at his hyung and tilted his head, studying him carefully. “Hyung, you look… different today. Something happened?”

Yoongi pouted, his pride nowhere in sight. “Today I had the worst shower of my life.”

Jungkook burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. “Welcome to married life, Hyung. Get ready—things are only going to get more dramatic.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “And how would you know?”

Jungkook just grinned, his tone light, almost sing-song and said "Well I observe it in my family whenever I am in Busan. My brother when newly married was like this only. "

Yoongi ignored him, brushing past the teasing words. 

When Yoongi returned home that night, he found Jimin already in the living room. There were books scattered around, papers from Jimin’s old life he had been sorting.

His brow was furrowed in quiet concentration, his hands careful as though the papers carried the weight of everything he had left behind. Jimin didn’t notice him at first; his face was softer, lost in thought, stripped of its usual guardedness.

Yoongi stood there a moment longer than necessary, watching silently. Something tugged in his chest, a feeling he wasn’t ready to name. He pushed it down, clearing his throat.

“Don’t make a mess everywhere,” he said finally, his voice low but carrying across the room.

Jimin startled, quickly gathering the papers. “I wasn’t—never mind.” His tone was defensive, but his movements betrayed unease.

There was silence between them, heavy but not unbearable, like the air just before rain.

At dinner, Yoongi noticed Jimin barely touched his food. His fork moved, but only out of politeness, never really eating. For once, instead of mocking, he asked quietly, “You don’t like it?” His words lacked their usual sharpness.

Jimin shook his head. “I’m just not used to eating with… unfamiliar people around.” The confession slipped out before he could stop himself.

It was an honest confession, and Yoongi surprised himself by answering, “You’ll get used to it, by the time. but… it’s not all bad.” His gaze softened for a fraction of a second.

Their eyes met briefly across the table—something unspoken passed between them, fragile and fleeting, quickly broken when Jimin looked away.

That night, Jimin lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the faint sound of water dripping somewhere in the pipes. His mind circled back to the morning, to Yoongi’s smirk when he teased him, to the way his laugh echoed in the bathroom, to the unexpected gentleness at dinner.

It doesn’t make sense, Jimin thought. The man who forced me into this marriage, shouldn’t be the same man who worries if I’ve eaten. I don’t know whether to hate him or… He shook his head, clutching the blanket tighter. I can’t afford to forget what he’s done. Not yet.

On the other side of the house, Yoongi sat in his chair, the lamp burning low. His book remained unopened on his lap. He thought of Jimin’s wide eyes in the bathroom, of the irritation that somehow turned endearing, of the quiet way he admitted his discomfort at the dinner table.

Why does it matter to me? Yoongi asked himself. He was supposed to be a contract, a convenience, nothing more. But now… every little reaction of his gets under my skin. He’s too fragile, too honest. If I’m not careful, he’ll break me without even trying.

Two men, in separate rooms, carrying wounds of the past—yet for the first time, their thoughts unknowingly bent toward the same question:

What if this marriage becomes something neither of us planned.

The week slipped by quietly, yet it left Yoongi more unsettled than he wanted to admit. Seven days of small clashes and unguarded moments, each one digging under his skin in ways he couldn’t ignore.

Yoongi’s thoughts were stubborn, circling back to everything that had happened—the sudden marriage, Jimin’s confession, the sharp edges of their first weeks together. He needed an escape, something that didn’t demand words or explanations.

He sat at the grand piano in the corner of the living room, fingers grazing the keys. At first, the notes were hesitant, a reflection of his restless mind.

Slowly, they formed a melody—low, introspective, soothing in its own way. Each chord chased away a fragment of his swirling thoughts, a temporary reprieve from the chaos in his head.

Jimin, in the hallway, paused mid-step. A soft, melancholic tune had drifted to his ears, melodic enough to pull him closer. Curious, he tiptoed toward the sound, careful not to announce his presence.

The sight that greeted him made him halt, breath caught in his chest. Yoongi sat at the piano, completely absorbed, eyes half-closed, the tension in his shoulders softened as he let the music flow.

Jimin leaned lightly against the doorframe, hidden from view, watching him play. He didn’t make a sound, didn’t interrupt, didn’t let Yoongi know he was there.

Minutes passed, the melody filling the quiet house. Yoongi finally stopped, pressing the last key with a soft sigh. He leaned back, oblivious to the quiet audience he had left behind.

By the time he glanced toward the hallway, expecting someone, no one was there. Jimin had already slipped away, carrying the warmth of that secret moment with him.

Yoongi's music was stuck in Jimin's mind and he wanted a escape from thoughts running in his mind. 

Evening settled over the house, but Jimin found no peace in it. Every quiet hour only reminded him of the past week—of the laughter he shouldn’t remember, and the gentleness he refused to trust and now Yoongi playing the piano. 

Later that evening, the mansion was quiet. Jimin had slipped into one of the empty rooms, music from his phone filling the space. He needed this—movement, expression, a way to shake off the tension that clung to him all day.

He danced, letting every note guide him, letting the rhythm carry the emotions he couldn’t voice. Each step was precise yet free, a delicate mix of strength and vulnerability.

Yoongi, passing by the hallway, caught a glimpse of movement through the slightly open door. Curiosity drew him closer, and he paused, mesmerized.

Jimin’s focus was complete; he didn’t notice Yoongi watching. The way he moved—graceful, powerful, yet tender—made Yoongi’s chest tighten in ways he didn’t understand.

After a while, Jimin paused, catching his breath, unaware of the quiet audience. Yoongi lingered just a moment longer, then quietly walked away, leaving Jimin to his private performance.

Both didn't knew the other had seen a side of them no one else had. It was private, yet somehow intimate. Both left the rooms before being noticed, carrying the memory with them like a secret.

That night, when they met, there was a subtle change. Yoongi’s gaze lingered a moment longer, softer than usual. Jimin smiled faintly, pretending to be unaware, though he could feel the same warmth from the other side.

The house continued its usual rhythm, with small bickering and playful arguments. But beneath it all, these quiet, secret moments of music and dance became a new connection—unspoken, delicate, and slowly building.

Even in their silence, they were learning each other in ways words couldn’t capture. And somehow, that felt more powerful than anything either of them had said.

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

Yoongi sat at his desk, staring blankly at the papers in front of him when Jungkook barged into the office.

“Sorry, hyung,” Jungkook said, slightly out of breath. “It took me longer than expected to trace the person who leaked Jin’s video. But I’m sure now.”

Yoongi’s eyes snapped up, his grip on the pen tightening.

“Who was it?” he asked, his voice steady, but his chest heavy with unease.

Jungkook hesitated before continuing. “The phone used belonged to Myunhee — Jimin’s cousin. She’s always held a grudge against him. After leaking the video, she disposed of the phone, which made the investigation drag on. I wanted to be absolutely sure before I told you.”

Silence stretched between them. The words sank like lead into Yoongi’s chest. It wasn’t Jimin. It had never been Jimin. Yet he had treated him like the enemy, pushed him away, doubted him at every turn.

Guilt hit Yoongi harder than he expected. He pressed a hand against his forehead, eyes shutting tightly as if that could block out the weight pressing on his heart.

He had wronged Jimin — deeply. He had carved scars into someone who had already carried too many. And now, all Yoongi could think of was how desperately he wanted to apologize to him.

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, the ceiling spinning slightly as guilt gnawed at him. His pride had always been his armor, his sharp words his weapon — but now, both felt useless.

What good was pride when he had built it on the ruins of someone else’s pain?

How do I even begin? he thought bitterly.

Sorry? As if one word could erase the bruises he’d left on Jimin’s heart. As if regret could undo the mistrust he had sown.

For a moment, Yoongi considered writing it down — a letter, something Jimin could read when he was ready. But no, that felt cowardly. Jimin deserved more than ink on paper.

Flowers? Too shallow.

A gift? Too meaningless.

No, what Jimin needed… what Jimin deserved… was sincerity. A real apology, spoken not as Min Yoongi the businessman, or Min Yoongi the dutiful son, but as a man who had failed and wanted to make it right.

But even as he resolved this, his chest tightened. Facing Jimin meant facing his own cruelty. It meant standing in front of the very person he had wounded and asking for a chance to heal what he had broken.

Yoongi’s jaw clenched as he exhaled slowly.

Later that evening, he found Jimin sitting quietly in the garden, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. The soft glow of the lanterns made his features gentler, but Yoongi knew the wounds beneath were far from healed.

“Jimin,” Yoongi’s voice was low, uncertain — a tone rare for him.

Jimin glanced up, surprise flickering across his face. “What is it?”

Yoongi hesitated, the words fighting in his throat before tumbling out. “I know I’ve wronged you… more than I can ever put into words. I blamed you for things you never did. I humiliated you, hurt you, and—” his voice cracked slightly, “I should have trusted you. I didn’t. And for that… I’m sorry.”

Jimin’s lips parted, but he stayed silent, letting Yoongi continue.

“This isn’t about making myself feel better. I just… I can’t carry on like nothing happened when I know I broke something between us. I don’t expect forgiveness, but I want you to know I regret every word, every moment I made you feel small.”

The night was quiet except for the faint rustle of leaves. Finally, Jimin let out a shaky breath.

“Did you ever once ask me how I felt, Yoongi?” His voice trembled, but it carried strength. “If you had… if you had just asked, I would have told you everything. I would’ve helped. But instead, you decided I was guilty. You decided I wasn’t worth believing. You humiliated me in front of everyone.”

Yoongi’s chest ached. He wanted to reach out, but his hands stayed still.

“I accept your apology,” Jimin said softly, eyes glistening though he didn’t let the tears fall. “But don’t expect me to forgive you so soon. Sorry, Yoongi… it’ll take time. I need time to heal.”

Yoongi nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. It wasn’t forgiveness, but it was a start.

He gave a small nod, forcing his voice steady. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

Jimin looked away, his posture guarded yet calmer than before. The silence between them wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t the suffocating coldness it once was either.

As Yoongi walked back inside, his thoughts churned.

I broke him. I failed him. And now… if I want to make this right, I’ll have to prove it every single day. No shortcuts, no excuses. I’ll wait, Jimin. No matter how long it takes.

For the first time in weeks, Yoongi’s guilt felt like it had a direction — a path toward redemption.

Yoongi sat at his desk late at night, a blank card lying in front of him. He had already crumpled two others, each attempt either sounding too cold or too desperate.

He wanted to tell Jimin he was sorry — but not in a way that felt like an obligation. He wanted him to feel it.

After a long pause, he picked up the pen again and wrote carefully, each word chosen with hesitation, then conviction:

“I know I’ve hurted you. 

I can’t take back the past, but I can try to give you better moments ahead.

This isn’t to erase the pain — it’s just to remind you that you deserve gentleness, always.

– Yoongi”

He stared at the message for a long time, his jaw tense, before slipping it into the bouquet he had chosen himself — not roses, not lilies, nothing flashy, just soft cream and pastel blooms that reminded him of peace.

The next afternoon, Jimin was kneading dough in the bakery kitchen when the bell at the front door rang.

Wiping his hands on his apron, he stepped out, expecting a customer. Instead, a delivery boy stood there, holding a bouquet wrapped in soft cream paper — elegant, understated, and thoughtful.

Tucked inside the bouquet was a small handwritten card.

“I know I’ve hurted you.

I can’t take back the past, but I can try to give you better moments ahead.

This isn’t to erase the pain — it’s just to remind you that you deserve happiness too.

– Yoongi”

Jimin’s fingers lingered on the card longer than he intended. His heart squeezed at the words — not begging, not excusing, just… gentle. A sigh escaped his lips before he caught himself, and though he shook his head as if to dismiss it, a tiny smile betrayed him.

For the first time, Yoongi’s guilt felt less like a burden and more like an effort to truly make amends.

Jungkook dropped by the bakery like he often did, eyes scanning the shelves before he settled on his favorite muffins. Jimin, busy arranging the trays, looked up at him with a small smile.

As he packed the muffins into a bag, Jimin slid in a neatly wrapped cookie shaped like a cat — simple but carefully detailed. Jungkook raised a brow at the extra treat.

“This one’s not for you,” Jimin said softly. “Give it to Yoongi-hyung.”

When Jungkook handed the bag over later, Yoongi froze at the sight of the cookie.

He glanced at the cookie, amused by its shape, then at the note — plain cream paper with a short message in Jimin’s tidy handwriting:

‘Thanks for the flowers.’

His eyes lingered on the note for a long time before he tucked it carefully into his wallet, as though it were something fragile. For the first time in days, his chest felt a little lighter.

Chapter Text

Chapter 21

Yoongi’s mother knocked softly on Jimin’s door, her voice warm like a mother calling her child for dinner.

“There’s a family function tonight. I’ve been invited, and I’d like you and Jin to join me. Please be ready.”

He lowered his gaze, staring at his own reflection in the window, and said “I haven't went to a event as married ever. I don't know how to dress up for that. 

“I… I haven’t used makeup in ages too. I don’t even know how anymore.” His voice cracked slightly, quieter than he intended, weighed down by a nervous edge he couldn’t hide.

From across the room, Jin chuckled, the sound lighthearted, with reassurance woven in. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you. Just get changed first. I’ll wait here.”

He leaned back on the chair, arms crossed with easy confidence, as if there was no room for Jimin’s doubts to exist.

He unbuttoned slowly, keeping his gaze focused on the shirt and 

Without looking up, he asked casually, “Hyung, can you pass me the shirt on the bed?”

But Jin had slipped out, to fetch his makeup kit, leaving the room briefly unattended.

It was Yoongi, already dressed neatly for work, who happened to pass by. He caught the faint voice through the half-open door. 

He stepped inside.

Jimin stood with his shirt half undone, pale skin catching the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The gentle dip of his collarbones, the smooth lines of his chest, the delicate vulnerability of someone caught unprepared—Yoongi froze, struck. His throat went dry, his pulse hammering far too loudly in his ears.

For a second, he simply stared, mesmerized in spite of himself.

He forced himself to move, to act before Jimin could look up. Yoongi grabbed the folded shirt from the bed, his fingers brushing against the fabric as if it were something far too fragile. Quietly, almost awkwardly, he held it out.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jimin muttered, distracted, fingers fumbling with the last buttons. He didn’t even lift his gaze.

Yoongi didn’t reply. His ears flamed red, heat crawling up his cheeks. He slipped out of the room as quickly as he had entered, leaving behind the faint echo of his footsteps and a racing heartbeat that didn’t calm even after he walked down the hall.

Jimin, oblivious, slipped the shirt on, smoothing it down over his frame.

 Jin returned with his makeup kit in hand. He set it down with exaggerated flourish. “Sit,” he instructed, tapping the chair.

 Jin fussed over him with practiced ease—foundation, powder, the brush strokes light but precise. 

By the end, Jimin looked effortlessly polished, almost like someone stepping out of a glossy magazine. He tugged at his collar uncomfortably, though, still unused to being dressed up this way.

Then they accompanied Yoongi’s mother to the function. The venue was lively, filled with chatter, laughter, and the soft clinking of glasses.

Yoongi’s mother glowed with pride, introducing Jimin with warmth that made his ears burn. “This is my son-in-law,” she announced, her smile radiant.

Jimin bowed politely, forcing smiles despite the nervous flutter in his stomach. Jin carried most of the conversation, charming relatives with ease. By the time the evening wound down, Jimin felt drained but oddly content.

They returned home, the air cool and quiet after the noise of the function.

Yoongi, having finished work early, retreated to the far side of the house where the pool lay hidden. He wanted to relax after a hectic day at work.

 For him, the pool was more than just water—it was escape. Silence here wasn’t suffocating; it was liberating.

Meanwhile, Jimin was trying to adapt to it's new surroundings. Curiosity tugged at him, so he wandered and started exploring the house to know better. 

His footsteps echoed against polished floors as he explored room after room—an unused bar lined with dusty bottles, a grand piano in one of the empty corners and empty room that were dusty after not being in use for a long time.

And then, he stumbled upon the pool. His breath caught. The sheer size of it, the serene atmosphere—it was breathtaking. He stepped closer to the edge, captivated, leaning in slightly.

“What are you doing here?”

The deep voice startled him.

Jimin spun around so fast he lost balance. With a sharp gasp, he tumbled straight into the water. The splash echoed loudly in the stillness.

Yoongi cut through the water immediately, strong strokes carrying him toward Jimin. His movements were efficient, yet controlled. Within seconds, he reached him, steadying Jimin by the arm as he surfaced, coughing, water clinging to his lashes and hair.

“You’ll catch a cold—the water’s colder at night,” Yoongi said firmly, his voice betraying a hint of worry.

Jimin spluttered, brushing wet strands from his face. “And you won’t?” His sarcasm cut sharp even as his body shivered.

“I’m used to it.” Yoongi helped him out of the pool, his hand steady against Jimin’s back for a moment longer than necessary. He grabbed a bathrobe from a nearby hook and handed it over. “Here. Change before you freeze.”

Jimin accepted quickly, wrapping himself up, ears burning not just from the chill.

Later that night, they sat down to dinner. Jin was out, so it was only Yoongi, Jimin, and his mother at the table. The comforting aroma of warm dishes filled the air, a contrast to the unspoken tension lingering between the two younger men.

Halfway through the meal, Jimin sneezed twice, his shoulders jerking forward.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi’s mother frowned gently, setting down her spoon. “Did you take a cold shower at night? Your hair’s still damp—you should’ve dried it properly.”

Jimin ducked his head, embarrassed. Across the table, Yoongi hid his smile behind a hand, his shoulders trembling faintly.

Then, as if the universe wanted balance, Yoongi sneezed too.

“Yoongi?” his mother blinked. “You too? Did you take a cold shower?”

She too was getting used to living with Yoongi as it been ages they stayed together. 

So they only made small talks here and there when necessary. 

He cleared his throat, feigning nonchalance. “It’s nothing, Eomma. I was swimming in the pool.”

Jimin too with a slip of tongue said, “I too didn’t take a shower. I was just wondering around the house and later felt into the pool by mistake.

Her eyes widened, darting between them. “You two… were in the pool together?”

Both froze, silence hanging thick.

But she only smiled knowingly, a gentle curve to her lips. “Dry your hair well next time. I don’t want you catching a cold.

Under the table, Jimin’s foot shot out, aiming for Yoongi’s in frustration.

Yoongi smirked, already anticipating it. He moved his leg away smoothly—so Jimin’s kick landed squarely against Yoongi’s mother instead.

“Ouch,” she blinked in surprise, rubbing her leg. “Someone kicked me.”

Jimin’s face turned scarlet in an instant. Heat rushed to his ears. Across the table, Yoongi burst out laughing, his gummy smile wide, unrestrained. The sound filled the room, light and contagious.

“Yoongi!” his mother scolded gently, though her tone carried no true anger. “Here I am speaking seriously, and you’re laughing? Where are your manners?”

Still chuckling, he ducked his head respectfully.

Dinner ended soon after. Yoongi’s mother excused herself with a smile, leaving Jimin and Yoongi alone in the dining hall.

Jimin glared across the table, his voice low and sharp. “Because of you, I kicked your mother!”

Yoongi smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. “Not my fault you can’t aim properly.”

Their gazes locked for a heartbeat too long. Heat crept into both their cheeks. Almost at the same time, they looked away, retreating into silence. Moments later, they left for their own rooms, hearts beating too quickly for either to admit.

That night, Jimin lay on his bed, hair still damp against the pillow. His face warmed as memories replayed—the pool, the embarrassment, the mortifying moment under the table. He groaned, burying his face into the pillow. “I kicked his mother,” he whispered in despair.

But then he remembered Yoongi’s laugh—bright, unrestrained, the wide gummy smile that crinkled his eyes. His lips curved despite himself, soft and unwilling. 

He pressed the pillow tighter, voice muffled. “It’s all his fault… and yet… why does it feel so nice seeing him smile?”

Across the hall, Yoongi sat on the edge of his bed, towel draped loosely around his neck. He ran a hand through his damp hair, still replaying the evening in his mind. Jimin’s wide-eyed glare, the splash in the pool, the soft pout at dinner—images that refused to leave him alone.

“Cute,” he muttered under his breath, before quickly shaking his head. “What am I even saying?”

He stretched out on the bed, pulling the blanket over himself, but the faint smile wouldn’t leave his lips. For the first time in a long while, his thoughts didn’t weigh him down. Sleep came easily.

And though separated by walls, both drifted off with the same thought echoing quietly in their hearts:

Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22

Yoongi had decided it was time Myunhee taste her own medicine. A burner SIM was all it took, and one carefully chosen message.

The text had been simple, almost tempting to resist.

A top brand is looking for a bold new face. You fit their category. Come for a private screening.

And of course, she took the bait. 

Myunhee arrived at the venue with her mother at her side. The girl was dressed to impress, hair sleek, makeup sharp, confidence dripping from her.

Yoongi was already there lounging in his chair with casual ease. 

When they saw it's Yoongi who is sitting there they both were shocked and got stiffened. 

“Perfect,” he said smoothly, lips curving. 

“You’ve got the look. The brand wants bold. Clothes that scream confidence. Can you handle that?”

He was just trying to control his anger as he didn't wanted to make a huge fuss.

Myunhee preened instantly, convinced she was steps away from her big break. 

But beside her, her mother hesitated after seeing the clothes. Her eyes darted across Yoongi’s unreadable face before she leaned close to whisper, voice low and uncertain.

“Isn’t this… too much?”

The shift in Yoongi’s demeanor was immediate. His smirk vanished. His words, when they came, sliced clean through the room.

“Too much? Interesting.” His eyes narrowed, sharp with meaning. “Didn’t seem too much when you exposed Jin. Or when you dragged someone else’s dignity into the dirt.”

The color drained from both their faces, pride crumbling like glass. Myunhee’s practiced confidence withered into silence, wide-eyed and cornered. 

Yoongi rose to his feet, slipping his phone into his pocket, voice calm but cold enough to freeze.

“Remember this next time you decide to play dirty. Sometimes the trap you set for others is waiting for you instead.”

And just like that, he left them staring, shaken, their own arrogance now turned into humiliation.

That night, Jimin’s phone rang. He almost didn’t answer—his hand hovered over the screen, but the name flashing made his heart twist. It was his father's call whom he hadn't talked in fear of what he would say. 

The voice thundered the moment he picked up, no room for breath, no space for defense.

“First you marry without telling me, and now your new husband bullies my family? Do you know what you’ve done, Jimin?”

Jimin’s grip on the phone tightened, pulse rising.

“What do you mean?”

“Myunhee and her mother were humiliated today!” his father roared. “Yoongi made her dress shamelessly and mocked them! She’s in tears, Jimin. Do you realize how shameful this is for us?”

She literally can't accept that this happened to her so she twisted the truth and Jimin's father accepted it like a fool. 

His father ranted on, but Jimin’s thoughts blurred, drowning in anger. Yoongi. Always so smug. Did he enjoy embarrassing people? Did he think he was untouchable?

By the time the call ended, Jimin was already plotting, his chest burning. 

Dinner came quietly. Yoongi sat across from him, posture composed as ever. 

But Jimin was prepared tonight. He had spent the afternoon in the kitchen, hands shaking as he added Spices to Yoongi’s serving. Not enough to worsen too much, but enough to sting. Enough to make it spicy than necessary. 

When Yoongi took the first bite, his chopsticks paused. Heat spread quickly across his face, his eyes watering slightly—but he chewed with unhurried patience, as though he could endure anything.

By the third bite, though, sweat trickled down his temple. His lips trembled and his throat tightening.

Jimin leaned back, a petty smirk tugging at his lips. Watching him suffer, even just a little, sparked satisfaction. It was childish, yes, but it was his revenge.

Then Yoongi coughed hard, setting his chopsticks down with a sharp clatter.

“Eomma,” he rasped, voice rough, “did the cook… use extra spice today?”

His mother’s brow furrowed immediately, concern replacing curiosity.

"I don't think so. But you look pale. Did you eat something spicy at work?” She frowned deeper, reminding gently, “You know well you can’t tolerate it since childhood.”

Yoongi gave a faint nod, lips pressing tight nd said 

“Maybe I ate… during a meeting.”

Jimin’s smirk vanished in an instant. Guilt struck him. He hadn’t meant for it to be this bad. Not for Yoongi to cough, not for him to sweat and tremble like this. 

Panic fluttered in his chest, and before he could stop himself, he pushed a glass of water toward him, then hurriedly fetched milk with honey when the coughing worsened. 

The rest of the meal passed in thick silence. Jimin couldn’t focus on his food. He kept stealing glances—at Yoongi’s flushed cheeks, at the weak smile he forced to reassure his mother, at the quiet strength that made Jimin’s stomach twist with shame.

Later that night, when Yoongi had finally settled, Jimin cornered him in their room.

“What happened today?” His tone was sharp, but the edge hid his unease.

Yoongi blinked at him, brows furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“My father called.” Jimin’s voice shook with lingering anger. “He said you bullied Myunhee. What the hell did you do?”

 Yoongi explained how he had set a trap, how he had reminded Myunhee of her own cruelty toward Jin. He told everything so there is no more misunderstanding between them. 

Jimin stood frozen, he had misjudged him—again. And worse, in his own bitterness, he had hurt him.

The next morning, Jimin slipped into the kitchen. He kept his hands busy, heart hammering with nerves. 

A soft sponge cake, baked with care. A muffin too—tangerine flavored, Yoongi’s favorite.

He packed them neatly, tucking a folded note on top. The words were simple, but each one weighed with sincerity.

Sorry about yesterday. Thank you for enduring me. – Jimin

When the delivery arrived at Yoongi’s desk hours later, he stared at it in silence. The frosting, the muffin, the note—all of it sat before him like an unspoken confession.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, his lips curved, the faintest smile breaking through his lips. 

And for the first time in days, his chest felt a little lighter.

Chapter Text

Chapter 23

Yoongi had installed cameras with microphones around his home for security, but today curiosity got the better of him. Sitting at his laptop at the office, he decided to check in on the household while he was away.

Room 1 was his mother’s—quiet as usual, nothing remarkable. Room 2 belonged to Jin, who seemed to be buried in paperwork, muttering numbers under his breath.

Room 3… he skipped; that was just storage. Finally, he reached Room 4, Jimin’s space.

The screen showed Jimin hunched over a call, speaking softly to someone Yoongi didn’t immediately recognize. He clicked the sound option.

“Tae, what should we do?” Jimin whispered, a little anxious. 

 “We aren’t getting much order these days. If this keeps up, we’ll be in serious trouble.”

Tae replied, teasing, “Why don’t you ask help from your grumpy cat?” "He must have great connection with everyone and he can help you with it".

Jimin’s voice tightened, shy but firm. “Tae, don’t call him that.”

A twinge of pink rose to Yoongi’s cheeks. Grumpy cat? Jimin’s nickname for him… and only he was supposed to use it. 

Tae chuckled on the other side. “Possessive, I see.  You want to keep the nickname for yourself.” "You have changed after marriage". 

“Don’t distract me. Let’s focus on the orders, okay?” Jimin scolded lightly, though there was no real bite in his voice. He sounded more like a flustered husband than an annoyed business partner.

“Fine, fine. I’ll check if there’s any party, function, anything at all we can deliver to,” Tae said, more serious now.

“Okay, just tell me if you find something.”

Jimin hesitated for a moment, his teeth tugging at his lower lip, then said thoughtfully, “Maybe… we could try online orders too? A lot of people prefer it these days. We haven’t explored that yet.”

Tae raised an eyebrow, amused but impressed. “Online, huh? Could work. But you’ll have to set it up and manage it.”

Jimin smiled nervously, but determination flickered in his eyes. “Yeah… I’ll try.”

Yoongi’s heart warmed at the sight. His husband was trying so hard, carrying burdens that wasn't his totally. 

An idea sparked almost instantly. He would help Jimin—but discreetly. No one should know.

Grabbing his phone, Yoongi dialed Joon, his trusted business partner. “Joon, didn’t you say there’s an annual gala coming up in two days? Make sure Bloom and Bliss gets an order.”

Joon laughed over the line. “Are you helping me, or promoting your husband’s business?”

Yoongi’s lips curved into a subtle smile. His eyes softened, though no one was there to see it. “Just do as I say—and make sure Jimin never finds out.”

“Understood,” Joon replied, still amused.

Yoongi hung up and leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

 This was the perfect opportunity to help… without letting Jimin know it was him.

Later that evening, Yoongi returned home earlier than usual. 

Jimin was still at work in his room, going over menus and delivery schedules with Tae. They were setting their bakery online so they wanted everything to be perfect. His brows were furrowed, his pencil tapping against the notebook.

Yoongi peeked through the slightly open door, and saw Jimin stressed and concentrated reaction. “Poor thing,” he muttered under his breath.

After thinking for sometime how to help further, Yoongi set his plan in motion.

First, he sent a subtle message to the delivery apps using the same burner phone he used for Myunhee, making sure a couple of orders from the clients would appear in Jimin’s system— Just enough to boost the business, but nothing that would make Jimin suspicious.

 He could hear Jimin muttering over his screen, Tae offering suggestions in between.

The contrast was almost funny—Jimin’s careful planning and Tae’s carefree tone—but Yoongi could sense the determination underneath Jimin’s every word.

After setting everything up, he retreated to the own room and made himself comfortable, pretending to read a report. He watched silently as notifications started pinging on Jimin’s screen.

The young man’s eyes widened, lips parting in surprise. “Tae… look at this! Did you found client already…? Where did these orders coming from?”

Yoongi, from across the room, just had a knowing smile. He could almost hear Jimin’s flustered “who did this?” in his head, though he kept his expression neutral when Jimin glanced toward the living room.

Satisfied, Yoongi leaned back, feeling a little victorious. He had helped Jimin, preserved the little secret, and managed to make his husband’s day just a little easier.

And just like that, Yoongi became the bakery’s very

first online bulk order customer—without Jimin ever knowing.

Chapter Text

Chapter 24

Day had passed in a blur, and Jimin and Yoongi’s relationship was slowly growing stronger, each day weaving a little more comfort and trust between them.

Jimin’s online business was picking up too, which made him feel better . He decided to celebrate his little success by preparing a cake at home for everyone, imagining the smiles it would bring. 

Yoongi, however, was caught up with work and had a business dinner that night. He sent a quick message to Jimin: “I’ll come late today. Have to attend a business dinner.”

Jimin’s lips formed a small pout as he stared at his phone, disappointment flickering in his chest. He had imagined sharing the cake with Yoongi, teasing each other, and feeling the warmth of togetherness.

But he quickly shook off the sadness and decided to share his excitement with Jin and his mother, who were genuinely happy for him.

Jin leaned in with a teasing grin, “You really do have magic in your hands, Jimin. Everything you bake turns out perfect!”

Jimin chuckled softly, feeling warmth bloom in his chest. It wasn’t the same as having Yoongi there, but seeing his family’s joy made him content.

He finished cleaning the dishes after dinner,  then retreated to his room. 

Around midnight, Yoongi returned home, slightly tipsy from the champagne at the party. Without thinking, he wandered into what he assumed was his bedroom and, without realizing it, slipped into Jimin’s room instead.

He froze when he saw Jimin asleep, peaceful and vulnerable, his lips forming a soft pout and fists loosely clenched. Yoongi’s chest tightened at the sight. “Am I hallucinating? Or is he really this cute?” he whispered, almost to himself.

Too tired to change, he set his shopping bag carefully on the chair and climbed into bed, instinctively pulling Jimin closer. Jimin, accustomed to cuddling even in sleep, hugged him tightly, pressing his face into Yoongi’s chest.

Usually it was the teddy he used to cuddle with so he thought it was his teddy only he is holding. 

The room was quiet except for their soft, synchronized breathing, a serene cocoon of warmth and comfort.

When Jimin woke up the next morning, he immediately felt the heat of Yoongi pressed against him. His one hand curled around Yoongi’s waist, the other leg draped gently over him.

The reality of their closeness hit him. His cheeks flushed pink as he realized how tangled he was with Yoongi. He hadn’t slept this close to anyone in a long time, and the sudden intimacy made his heart race and his thoughts scramble.

“Yoongi… wake up. I need to make breakfast,” he whispered, gently trying to move away.

“Just five more minutes…” Yoongi murmured, nuzzling Jimin’s neck, his voice thick with sleep.

Jimin’s face grew even warmer. He gently tried to untangle himself, and Yoongi finally opened his eyes, blinking against the morning light.

“What… am I doing here?” he muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead. “This headache is killing me. I shouldn’t have drunk so much yesterday.”

Jimin offered softly, “Let me bring you some honey lemon water. You’ll feel better.” He slipped out of the room and quickly prepared the drink, the scent of citrus and honey mingling with the morning air.

When he returned, he handed Yoongi the glass. “Drink this. It will help with your hangover.”

Yoongi sipped slowly, letting the soothing warmth spread through him. He looked at Jimin with a small, embarrassed smile. “Sorry for the chaos I caused yesterday… I really don’t know how I ended up here,” he admitted quietly.

Yoongi then picked up the shopping bag from the night before and handed it to Jimin. “This is for you… it reminded me of you when I saw it.”

Inside was a Chimmy plushie, engraved with the words “Baby Chick.” Jimin’s cheeks deepened to an almost shy crimson. “Thank you…” he whispered, carefully cradling the plushie as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Yoongi stayed in the room a moment longer, his gaze lingering on Jimin, both of them flustered yet content. Words seemed unnecessary; just the act of being near each other felt enough.

Finally, Jimin set the plushie gently on his bedside table and looked up at Yoongi. “I’ll treasure it,” he said softly, almost shyly.

Yoongi nodded, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips. “Good… I’m glad.”

 Just being near each other, in that unspoken, tender way, was enough.

Unable to resist, Jimin gave Yoongi a small, playful nudge. “You know… you’re lucky I didn’t toss you off the bed,” he teased, a shy grin tugging at his lips.

Yoongi chuckled softly, and said  “Yeah, I know. But I think I wouldn’t mind being tossed off… if I get to wake up next to you again,” he teased gently, his voice still husky from sleep.

Jimin’s cheeks flamed even deeper, yet a small, genuine smile spread across his face. And for the first time in a long while, the morning felt perfect—soft, warm, and entirely theirs.

Chapter Text

Chapter 25

Jimin had woken up early, preparing breakfast as usual — bowls of rice, soup, and a few side dishes he hoped everyone would enjoy.

Jin entered first, offering a polite nod to Jimin before sitting down. A few minutes later, Mrs. Min arrived, her gaze lingering briefly on the spread.

She gave Jimin a small smile, murmuring, “You’ve worked hard this morning,” before taking her seat.

 Yoongi finally joined them after sometime.  He sat silently, reaching for his chopsticks without meeting anyone’s eyes.

Jimin quickly placed the coffee he had made by Yoongi’s side, hoping the small gesture would lighten the mood.

Jin cleared his throat softly. “The food… tastes good,” he said after a bite, his words directed toward Jimin. 

Mrs. Min nodded faintly, agreeing, but her eyes drift once toward her younger son. Yoongi noticed, though he didn’t comment. He simply ate in silence, his expression unreadable.

Jimin, said with a gentle smile "I’m glad you like it. Cooking… makes me happy,” he said softly, looking between them.

Breakfast continued quietly, each person lost in their own thoughts. The only lightness in the room came from Jimin’s small efforts, holding the edges of a family still mended with fragile threads.

After breakfast, Yoongi left for work, his usual quiet footsteps fading into the hallway. Jin, too, excused himself soon after for errands of his own, leaving the house unusually still. Only Jimin and Yoongi’s mother remained.

Jimin finished clearing the dishes before heading to his room, settling in to check on his online business. Tae was managing the offline store well, and Jimin only needed to step in occasionally. 

Time slipped by faster than he realized, and when he finally glanced at the clock, the sky had turned a deep gray. Rain poured steadily outside, the rhythm tapping against the windows.

Feeling suddenly inspired, Jimin smiled to himself. Rainy days call for snacks.

He made a small plate of snacks and brewed hot tea, balancing the tray carefully as he knocked on Yoongi’s mother’s door.

“Mom… it’s raining,” Jimin said gently as he entered. “I thought snacks would make the evening a little warmer.”

Yoongi’s mother’s eyes softened and said "You are too kind Jimin". And then after careful thoughts she said  “You know… on rainy days like this, I used to sit with Yoongi’s Appa and drink. It was our little tradition.”

Jimin hesitated for a beat before replying, voice low but steady. “I can’t take his place… but if you’d like, I can drink with you. Just so you’re not alone.”

Her lips curved into the faintest smile. “Let’s do that. Perhaps we can bond a little more and get to know each other better, hm?”

Not long after, Jimin pulled out a bottle of champagne and some soju he had noticed in the mini bar. Soft lofi music floated through the speakers as they sat side by side, nibbling on snacks and sipping from their glasses.

After a while, Jimin tilted his head. “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“I’ve noticed the tension between you, Jin, and Yoongi… what happened? If it’s too personal, I’ll understand.”

Her expression darkened slightly, but she sighed. “When Yoongi was a teenager, he got entangled himself in wrongful activities which also included financial dealings with dangerous men. He was naive so he thought whatever he was doing was correct. But That mess… ended with them killing my husband. From then on, I blamed Yoongi. Jin did too. How could we not?” 

Jimin’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine your pain. But… I don’t think Yoongi ever wanted that. He was young. Maybe he was trapped too. All these years… he must have been carrying that guilt, thinking he was the reason his father died.”

Yoongi’s mother’s fingers tightened around her glass. “It’s been so long… I wouldn’t even know how to start a conversation with him now.”

“I’ll help you,” Jimin said gently. “Even just one honest talk could ease your hearts.”

She looked at him with misty eyes. “You’re far too selfless, Jimin-ah.”

They drifted into easier chatter after that, voices warming with laughter as the rain slowed outside. By the time the sky cleared, both of them were completely drunk.

When Yoongi returned home later that evening, the mansion was unusually quiet. A few cushions were scattered across the living room floor, and glasses lay abandoned on the side table.

“What happened here?” he asked one of the servants.

“Mr. Jimin and Ma’am were drinking together, sir… they got a little carried away,” the servant replied hesitantly.

Yoongi blinked in disbelief. Jimin… and my mother? Before he could respond, he noticed a shadow shifting behind a curtain. Pulling it back, he found his mother trying to balance herself against the wall.

“Eomma, What are you doing here, let's take you to your room". He muttered, quickly steadying her. He guided her gently back to her room, laid her on the bed, and tucked the blanket over her shoulders. With a sigh, he whispered, “Rest well,” before heading back downstairs.

“Where’s Jimin?” he asked.

The servants pointed toward the upper floor. Confused, Yoongi followed their gaze until he spotted Jimin sitting in the attic, swaying lightly with a goofy grin.

“Hyung, you’re here!” Jimin exclaimed, waving wildly. “Look—I’m Superman! I can climb buildings and fly too!”

Yoongi pressed a hand to his forehead. “Stay where you are. You’ll hurt yourself. I’m coming up.”

“Nooo,” Jimin pouted, wobbling dangerously near the edge. “I’ll show you—I can fly down myself!”

Before Yoongi could stop him, Jimin leapt from the attic.

“JIMIN—!”

With a loud thud, Jimin landed squarely on Yoongi, sending him crashing onto the floor. Yoongi groaned in pain, clutching his back.

“See?” Jimin giggled proudly. “I came down myself.”

The servants exchanged nervous glances before slipping away, leaving the two of them in a tangled heap on the floor.

Jimin cupped Yoongi’s cheeks suddenly, squishing them with his small hands. “Your cheeks look like dumplings… I wanna eat them!” He leaned forward and playfully bit Yoongi’s cheek.

“Ah—Jimin!” Yoongi hissed, eyes widening, but he didn’t push him away.

Jimin only grew bolder, next he started peppering Yoongi’s jaw with sloppy kisses. “Hyung, you’re so cute,” he mumbled, fingers fumbling at the buttons of Yoongi’s shirt. He pressed his lips to Yoongi’s collarbone, sucking until a dark mark bloomed there.

Jimin said giggling - "Now I have marked you. You are Mine. You can't leave me now."

Yoongi froze, torn between shock and disbelief. “Jimin… you’re drunk.”

“It’s hot in here,” Jimin whined, tugging off his own shirt and tossing it aside.

For a moment, Yoongi’s breath caught at the sight of Jimin’s bare torso, but he quickly regained control. No. Not like this.

“Jimin-ah,” he said firmly, “let’s go to our room.”

“Mm, but I like it hereee.” said Jimin.

Yoongi leaned close, coaxing. “I have something for you in our room. Don’t you want to see it?”

Jimin’s eyes lit up like a child’s. “Really? A gift?!” He stumbled to his feet, letting Yoongi guide him upstairs.

Once in the bedroom, Yoongi handed him a glass of water. “Drink this first.”

Jimin obeyed without complaint, then collapsed onto the bed, smiling sleepily. “Where’s my gift…?”

Yoongi brushed his hair gently. “I’ll get it. Just wait here.”

But by the time he returned, Jimin was fast asleep, breathing evenly under the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

Yoongi stood there for a long moment, exhaling slowly. “Finally… he’s asleep.” He pulled the blanket over Jimin, watching his peaceful face.

With a small shake of his head, Yoongi whispered, “I didn’t expect this turn of events,” before quietly slipping back to his own room.

Yoongi woke up the next morning with a faint ache in his back — a not-so-gentle reminder of Jimin’s flying stunt from the attic. He sighed, pressing his hand against the sore spot.

That idiot… jumping straight at me like I was some kind of safety net. And then calling see I am “Superman.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips despite himself. Jimin had been a complete mess last night — giggling, biting his cheek, showering him with kisses. Yoongi had never seen him so bold, so unguarded… and so heartbreakingly adorable.

But beneath the chaos, one thought kept bothering him.

He drank with Mom.

That in itself was surprising. For years, his mother barely spoke to him without a hint of resentment. And yet, she had sat with Jimin, opened up, maybe even laughed with him. Jimin had done what Yoongi couldn't do — melt her walls.

Yoongi rubbed his temple. “Why do you keep doing this, Park Jimin? Fixing things I never asked you to fix… and making me realize just how much I need you.”

Yoongi stood, stretching, his thoughts heavy but his heart strangely lighter. One thing was clear — last night had changed something. Between his mother. Between Jimin. Between all of them.

And maybe… it was time he stopped running from the past too.

Yoongi decided to prepare breakfast for them as they must be in hangover. 

Both Jimin and Yoongi’s mother dragged themselves to the dining table, clutching their heads as though the headache was pounding inside them.

Jimin groaned dramatically, “I’m never drinking again. Never. My head feels like it’s about to explode.”

Yoongi’s mother sighed, “I too won’t drink recklessly anymore. What a mistake.” "I can't handle this in my age now, I need to understand". 

Yoongi walked in, carrying a tray with two steaming bowls and glasses. His expression was unreadable, but there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Here. Honey lemon water and hangover soup. Have this, you’ll feel better.”

Jimin immediately brightened a little, though still rubbing his temple. “Thank you… but I don’t remember anything from last night. What even happened?”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Of course you don’t. You were heavily drunk. At one point you climbed up to the attic and jumped on me when I came home saying Hyung look I am Spiderman. My back’s still sore because of you.”

Jimin froze, his face heating up. “What— I… I did that?!” He covered his face with both hands, groaning. “I’m so sorry, hyung. I must have looked so stupid…”

Yoongi’s lips quirked into a small smile. He didn’t reply, just quietly watched Jimin sulk while sipping his soup.

After a few minutes of silence, Jimin glanced at him with determination. “Hyung, let’s go to my room. I’ll give you a back massage. You’ll feel better.”

Before Yoongi could answer, he turned to his mother. “Eomma, I also have scheduled a massage therapist for you. They’ll come soon, so you can rest and will feel better too.”

Yoongi’s mother didn’t say much, only gave him a small glance — something softer than usual — before leaving the table quietly.

Jimin tugged on Yoongi’s sleeve. “Come on. You took care of us, now let me take care of you.”

Yoongi sighed but let himself be led. Inside the room, Jimin pushed him toward the bed. “Lay down. I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t move until then.”

Yoongi slipped off his outer shirt before lying down, leaving only his sleeveless undershirt. His shoulders and upper back were bare, pale skin catching the morning light.

Jimin froze for a second, lotion bottle still in his hand. His eyes lingered a little too long before he realized it, and heat crept up his neck.

“W-why’d you take that off?” Jimin stammered, looking anywhere but directly at Yoongi.

Yoongi glanced over his shoulder lazily. “You said massage, didn’t you? Hard to do it properly with layers of clothes.”

Jimin bit the inside of his cheek, trying to look composed. “R-right… I guess that makes sense.” He busied himself with rubbing lotion between his palms, hoping Yoongi didn’t notice the faint pink dusting his cheeks.

But Yoongi did. A small smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re acting strange.”

“I’m not!” Jimin replied quickly, pressing his hands firmly onto Yoongi’s shoulders to cover his embarrassment. “Just… stay still, hyung.”

 He could hear Jimin shuffling behind him, the sound of lotion being squeezed out of a bottle.

“Don’t complain later if it hurts,” Jimin warned as he climbed onto the bed, kneeling beside him.

Yoongi chuckled lowly. “You’re the one who insisted. Let’s see if you’re any good.”

The first touch was light, Jimin’s warm palms pressing carefully into his shoulders. He moved gently at first, testing his strength, then started kneading in slow circles.

Yoongi hadn’t expected much, but the tension in his muscles began to ease almost immediately. His eyelids grew heavy. “Mm… not bad,” he muttered, half into the pillow.

Jimin’s lips curved into a small smile at the praise. “Told you. I think you just act tough, but even you need care sometimes.” And it's okay to accept it."

Yoongi let out a quiet hum, his throat tightening at how soft Jimin’s voice sounded. He turned his face slightly to the side, catching glimpses of Jimin’s concentrated expression.

His brows furrowed, lips pursed in focus, strands of hair falling into his eyes — Yoongi found himself staring a little too long.

“Hyung, are you even listening?” Jimin teased, pressing harder into a knot in his back.

Yoongi jolted lightly, grumbling, “Yah, don’t press so hard.”

“That’s because you’re so stiff,” Jimin shot back with a giggle, though he softened his touch again.

For a while, the room was quiet except for Jimin’s hands moving rhythmically, and Yoongi’s steady breaths. The air between them felt calm, but there was an undercurrent — something unspoken, lingering.

When Jimin leaned closer to reach his lower back, Yoongi caught the faint scent of his shampoo mixed with lotion. He shut his eyes quickly, hiding the smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re… cute,” Yoongi murmured, barely audible.

Jimin blinked. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi said quickly, face half-buried in the pillow. But his ears had turned red, and Jimin noticed.

When Jimin finally pulled back, Yoongi turned his head slightly, catching his gaze. “My back feels better… but I think your hands spoiled me.”

Jimin blinked, taken aback from the compliment, and quickly stood. “I–I’ll get us some tea,” he said, almost running off, flustered again.

Left alone, Yoongi smiled to himself, his back lighter and his heart strangely warmer than before.

Chapter Text

Chapter 26

The natural rhythm was slowly returning. Jimin buried himself in his bakery work, while Yoongi got busier at the company. But despite their different worlds, they were slowly learning to fall into step with each other.

That evening, Jimin felt restless. To ease his boredom, he went swimming. The cool water relaxed his body, washing away the day’s fatigue. For a while, he floated peacefully, eyes closed, lost in the silence.

Meanwhile, Yoongi returned home earlier than usual. When he asked for Jimin, the servants told him he was at the pool. Curious, Yoongi headed there.

The sight that greeted him made his throat go dry. Jimin glided through the water gracefully, droplets clinging to his skin as he emerged.

His damp hair stuck to his forehead, and as he climbed out, water streamed down his toned shoulders and chest.

Yoongi swallowed hard, his gaze lingering longer than he meant to.

Jimin noticed Yoongi staring and flushed instantly. Flustered, he quickly reached for the bathrobe lying nearby and wrapped it around himself. His ears burned pink, but he tried to act casual.

“Yoongi,” he said softly, still tugging the robe tight, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Yoongi blinked, forcing himself to look away before nodding. “Yeah?”

“What… what happened with your father.” Jimin hesitated, meeting his eyes cautiously. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but… I talked with your mother too. I wanted to hear it from your point of view.”

Yoongi exhaled slowly. “I see. Then there’s no point in hiding it anymore.”

He told him everything—the rebellion of his teenage years, how he’d fallen into something reckless, how the person he trusted turned out to have an old rivalry with his father. He admitted he’d never known the full story until it was too late. And ever since then, he had carried the crushing guilt.

“My mother and Jin… they’ve never forgiven me,” Yoongi finished quietly. “Honestly, I haven’t forgiven myself either.”

Jimin’s chest tightened at the raw pain in his words. “Yoongi…” he whispered. “You were just caught in someone else’s mess. It wasn’t your fault. You’ve punished yourself enough already. You don’t have to keep carrying it forever.”

Yoongi’s throat worked, emotion heavy in his chest. When he thought no one could ever understand him, here Jimin was—standing before him, soaked from the pool, yet speaking with a warmth that reached into places Yoongi thought were long frozen.

Before he could say more, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and frowned. “I have to go. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

He left in a rush, leaving Jimin staring after him.

Jimin bit his lip. Maybe… this was the right time. If Yoongi couldn’t confront his mother yet, maybe he could help in his own way.

After Yoongi got called away, Jimin decided it was time to do something. He couldn’t watch mother and son avoid each other forever.

A mischievous idea struck him. He sneaked into Yoongi’s room, grabbed one of his suits, and wore it. Fixing his hair back, he smirked at the mirror. Not bad, Park Jimin. Not bad at all.

He then went to his mother-in-law’s room and knocked gently. She opened the door—and blinked in surprise.

“Jimin? What is this?”

Jimin grinned, bowing slightly like Yoongi. “Here I am, dressed up as Yoongi. So you can practice whatever you wanted to say to him. Pretend I’m him.”

At first, she shook her head. “You didn’t have to do this much for me. But… thank you.”

So they began. She hesitated at first, but little by little, she spoke her heart. And Jimin, playing Yoongi, listened with exaggerated seriousness, nodding at all the right times. When she stumbled, he gently encouraged her to continue.

Meanwhile Yoongi had returned back and when he checked Jimin was not in his room so he asked the servants and they told him he is in his mother's room.

So he went there and what he said made him smile.

Jimin draped in his clothes and pretending to be him wasn't he thought would see.

Here Jimin was oblivious that Yoongi just came and is standing outside. He was saying whatever he wanted to say.

Yoongi's mother noticed him but Yoongi pointed through his fingers to stay silent.

Afterwards, Jimin leaned back smugly in the chair, pretending to loosen his tie. “You know, Mom, Yoongi is always scared of me. He always does whatever I say.”

Yoongi’s mother covered her mouth to hide her laugh.

“Really?” a familiar low voice said.

Thinking it was his mother-in-law responding, he kept bluffing.

“Yes, I’m telling the truth,” Jimin went on dramatically. “He always obeys me. You know what happened once—”

“What?” Yoongi’s voice interrupted again, closer this time.

Confused, Jimin turned—only to see Yoongi himself leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirk plastered across his face.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Continue. What did I do?”

Jimin froze. He hadn’t realized Yoongi had come back already.

Jimin’s face burned red instantly. He stammered nonsense, muttered something unintelligible, and then bolted out of the room in embarrassment.

Yoongi laughed—really laughed—at his antics, then stepped inside. His mother was still chuckling softly.

But Yoongi’s expression soon softened. He turned to her and said gently, “Eomma… can I talk to you?”

They sat across from each other, the silence stretching until it was almost unbearable. Yoongi swallowed hard.

“Eomma… I’ve carried this for too long. About Appa… about that night. I know you blame me. Honestly, I blamed myself too. Every single day.” His voice cracked, low but heavy.

“But I need you to know—I never wanted that to happen. I was young and reckless, but I never thought it would cost Appa’s life. I would give anything to change it.”

His mother’s hands trembled slightly as she clasped them together. “Yoongi… do you think I didn’t see? The way you buried yourself in work, the way you never smiled again?

I knew you were hurting too. I just… I couldn’t look at you without remembering that night.” Her eyes watered. “It was easier to stay angry than to face the pain.”

Yoongi leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper. “Eomma, I don’t need forgiveness if you can’t give it. But I just… want you to see me as your son again. Not as the mistake that ruined everything.”

That broke her. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she reached for his hand. “You’ve always been my son, Yoongi. I was just too blind with grief to see how much you needed me too. I’m sorry, my boy.”

For the first time in years, Yoongi felt a weight lift from his chest. He clasped her hands tightly, eyes burning.

Yoongi’s chest ached, but for once it wasn’t from guilt. It was from the warmth of his mother’s hand in his. Maybe, just maybe, he was allowed to breathe again.

Outside, Jimin closed his eyes and exhaled softly. He didn’t need to be part of the words spoken inside—the sound of healing was enough. And for the first time, he felt sure that Yoongi was finally stepping out of his shadows.

Meanwhile Jin had just returned from his outstation work when his mother called him to her room. He expected small talk about the household, but the moment he entered, he noticed her serious eyes.

“Jin-ah, we need to talk,” she began softly.

He sighed, sitting across from her. “Is this about Yoongi again?”

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I… I wronged him. For years, I let myself believe his choices led to your father’s death. But last night, Yoongi told me everything. The rivalry, his mistake, his regret… Jin, he was just a boy. He never meant for any of this.”

Jin clenched his jaw. “But Eomma, Appa is gone. And every time I see Yoongi, I’m reminded of that.”

“I know,” she whispered, reaching for his hand. “But punishing him won’t bring your father back. It will only break what’s left of our family. Don’t let your grief blind you to the son I almost lost to guilt.”

Jin looked down, his throat tight. For the first time, he saw not just his brother but the boy Yoongi had been — carrying blame no one had asked him to bear.

Later that night, Yoongi was sitting in the study, pretending to go through work documents but barely reading them. When the door creaked, he looked up and froze — Jin stood there, hesitant.

“Hyung,” Yoongi muttered, unsure.

Jin crossed his arms but his voice was quieter than usual. “Eomma told me everything… about Appa. About you.”

Yoongi lowered his gaze, shoulders tense. “If you came to remind me it’s my fault—”

“Stop.” Jin cut him off, his tone firm but not angry. “I’ve blamed you for years because it was easier than facing how much it hurt. But… maybe I was wrong. Maybe we both were.”

Yoongi blinked, stunned.

“I don’t know if I can forgive completely right now,” Jin admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “But I want to try. For Appa. For Eomma. For us.”

Silence stretched, heavy but healing. Then Yoongi nodded, his throat tight with emotion. “That’s… all I could ask for, hyung.”

For the first time in years, the brothers shared a look that wasn’t weighed down with anger — only the fragile beginning of reconciliation.

The silence between them stretched, not cold this time, but fragile—like a bridge being rebuilt. Jin finally let out a breath, sitting beside Yoongi instead of across from him.

Yoongi swallowed hard, his eyes burning. “Hyung… thank you. Even if it takes time, even if it’s not easy, I’ll wait. Just… thank you for giving me this chance.”

Jin didn’t respond with words, but his hand reached out, resting briefly on Yoongi’s shoulder before retreating. A small gesture, but enough to tell Yoongi that the wall between them had begun to crack.

The dining table that evening felt different—lighter somehow. Jimin had taken over the kitchen, serving up a simple but comforting spread. The moment the aroma of one particular dish hit Yoongi, he blinked in surprise.

“Hyung,” Yoongi said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Do you remember this? You used to fight with me over it because Eomma always gave me the bigger portion. You’d sulk for hours, and I’d tease you saying she loved me more.”

Jin paused mid-bite, the memory softening his expression. “You never let me forget that, brat.”

For the first time in years, the brothers shared a genuine laugh, the sound carrying across the table like sunlight after rain. Their mother watched quietly, her chest swelling with a relief she hadn’t dared hope for.

Her gaze shifted to Jimin, who was busy refilling everyone’s bowls with a shy little smile. “Thank you, Jimin-ah,” she said, her voice warm. “If not for you… I don’t think this moment would have ever come.”

Jimin flushed, ducking his head. “I only did what felt right,” he murmured, but his heart swelled at the sight of the family finally healing.

And as they continued their meal, laughter filling the air, it felt as though an old wound had finally begun to close.

For the first time in years, their home felt like a family again.