Chapter Text
1
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay, hyungnim?”
Jungkook utters sadly as he drops the last box in the middle of the expansive living room with worried eyes and his lips tangling into a downwards smile. “I can always call Taehyung-hyungnim if you don’t want to stay here, or even a cab if he’s busy.” He says the last part lowly since said man was currently in his new bedroom tidying up where the maids had missed the small bits. Jimin can help but smile at his dongsang as he shifts foot to foot, eyeing up the large penthouse before turning back to Jimin.
“I’ll be fine, Kookie-ah. You know me, I’ll get through this.” Jimin says, somewhat meekly. I am going to be fine? Jimin doesn’t know. For starters, he stood out like a sore thumb in this apartment: everything was colour-coded and sleek. Black and white. White and black. Maybe even a little grey in some places. Jimin was filled with bright, ‘could blind you eyes’ kind of colours. His battered up pair of Converse sat by a pair of (very, very, very) expensive Versace loafers. His ugly yellow university jumper (Go Seoul Bears!) lied on the leather sofa. The brown boxes with scribbled writing across them laid around the room, making the place look all mismatched. “Trust me, okay? I…I will be okay. I just know it.”
“Okay, hyungnim.” Jungkook doesn’t look convinced. He still cautiously looks around the room. “I do trust you I’m just worried that’s all.” And so is Jimin. Of course, he’d never say this to Jungkook: that would spiral into Jungkook freaking out and calling Taehyung from the car (who left once Jimins husband walked in with the choked out words of, ‘my umma is calling.’ And didn’t bother to return to help unload the boxes. Jimin makes a mental note to text him later on. Taehyung could be so dramatic sometimes.)
“You don’t need to worry, Kookie-ah. I’m only a phone call away and besides, it’s not like I won’t be seeing you?” Jimin reasons. “I’ll still be coming over on Friday and we can still go grab sundae and odeng together as well. Nothings changing.” When he heard a door open and close with the pitter-patter of feet, he sighed loudly. “You should go Kookie-ah. You know what Tae’s like: he’ll think I’m trying to keep you all to myself.” Jungkook nods, eyes flickering between Jimin and his sharp eyed, blonde haired husband who wears a black turtle neck and black slacks. Jungkook nods sadly before pulling Jimin into a bone crushing hug and bowing at Min Yoongi.
“Bye hyungnims.” Jungkook utters and Jimin watches how he shuffles towards the door and slips on his pair of battered up Air Forces before leaving with a forced smile. At the sound of the heavy door shutting, it made Jimin realise something:
- He was married. In a real relationship. Like, actually married to another person who he doesn’t know at all. (Not a scary prospect at all. )
- He was now someone’s husband: how do married couples even act? What will happen with university? His friends? Would he even see his family more?
“He seems nice.” Yoongi said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that held the room. “Was that a friend from university?” Jimin turns to Yoongi who seems just as apprehensive as the younger. He can’t help but shift nervously, it was the first time ever they’ve been alone. Not even for when they met months ago were they alone.
This is a little weird.
“Best friend.” Jimin says, nodding slowly. “He’s still in high school but he lives with a friend of mine since he lived in Gimpo.” Jimin shuffles towards one of the boxes, absentmindedly reading the chicken scuff handwriting that’s Taehyungs. Yoongi makes an approving sound with his slippers shuffling against the floor.
“He, uh, can come over whenever he wants you know.” Yoongi says. “This place is pretty big.” Too big, Jimin thinks. Even with all his stuff from home and university, there’s a grand total of seven boxes. Packing up made it seem like he had more stuff.
How sad.
“Thank you, Yoongi.” Jimin says, bowing slightly. Yoongi forces a smile as he rubs the back of his neck. Yeah, this was awkward. Really awkward. Jimin really doesn’t know what to say or to do with himself. They stand like that for what felt like eons when really it’s only a handful of minutes before Yoongi promptly says:
“I, er, have to go to work for a few dinner meetings. You’ll be okay here, right?” Yoongi says and Jimin nods. He’ll be fine: he can get his bearings around the apartment and sort out his stuff without an awkward presence lingering around him, even if a huge part of Jimin wants Yoongi here. He’s spent so much time alone in his life, the thought of doing it some more and now married made it worse.
“Okay, cool.” Yoongi says with a deep sigh before leaving the room and going down the long corridor towards his room. If this was married life was going to be like; small talk and uncomfortable silences, Jimin really doesn’t know what to do. Even now in this room, he feels uncomfortable and awkward. His eyes move to each object in the room: the T.V, the leather sofas, the black coffee table, the grey rug, the handful of framed pictures of his family dotted around the room, the huge bay window where you can see all the way up to the Han River, the long black table that sits in front with a freshly stacked fruit bowl.
Everything seemed to have a place, Jimin thinks. It’s a shame I don’t.
The footsteps return, this time, they had a sense of urgency and Yoongi returns into the main room wearing a dark coat over his casual looking clothes. He places a credit card onto the table with a small post-it note attached to it.
“I don’t think I’ll be home until late since I’m swamped with meeting, so I won’t be able to call my chef over or anything so you can order whatever food you like. Don’t bother saving any for me since I’ll probably already be having dinner.” Yoongi explains and his phone goes off and an annoyed growl leaves his lips as his hand digs into his coat pocket before yanking it out and pressing decline. He then steps towards Jimin and presses a small kiss to his cheek, just like the first time they ever met. It makes his stomach lurch in fondness.
“Okay.” Yoongi’s grin is watered down, as if he’s trying to supress the happiness inside him, by taking Jimins face between his hands. “I’ll, er, see you later then I guess.”
“I’ll try and leave as early as I can, Jimin.” Even though there newlyweds, Jimin knows it’s a fake promise. C.E.O’s like Yoongi don’t get breaks. They can’t afford that luxury; to leave the office early when there could possibly be disaster that’ll he’ll need to go and fix. To come home and have dinner like a normal family. To even have his schedule clear. He doesn’t comment though, he just nods and feels Yoongi pull his hands away before swiftly leaving the room and the sound of the heavy door slamming shut makes him sigh.
If married life was like this, do I even want to be married? Jimin thinks sadly.
(And later that night – when the sun dives into the sunset and the moon – Jimin finally unpacks. He drags the boxes down the corridor to a plain white room with his name marked on a post-it note. Opening the door, he isn’t surprised about the room and how plain it is: Plain whitewashed walls, plain black and white walk in closet with towels folded up neatly, plain white bed with black sheets and plain blue and white en suite.
The room doesn’t actually starting feeling homely until Jimin unpacks all his notebooks and texts book and places them on the desk by the window. It doesn’t feel homely until he jumps on the bed, messing up the covers, until he puts up the posters that Jungkook had brought him when he went to Japan with his school two winters ago and until he places all his quirky knick-knacks across the window ledge, the desk and the walls.
But still, Jimin sits down on the edge of the bed tugging at his jumper and letting his feet rub against the carpet. This wasn’t his home. It didn’t feel like home either.
But there was nothing he’d be able to do about it.)
. . .
Waking up in a bed with a mattress that felt like it was made by angels and soft cotton sheets under his bear body was unusual.
Waking up without hearing Taehyung serenading his plants was even more unusual.
But, topping all of that is the sunlight is coming in pretty strong through those curtains.
Groaning loudly and opening his eyes, he sees someone unfamiliar opening the curtains in his room.
“Excuse me?” Jimin said, a bit too loudly for an early Monday morning and his throat completely raw. The man turned around, hair moving with his head before smiling and bowing. Jimin can’t help but scramble up and pull the duvet over his bare chest.
“Mr. Min. Good morning and sorry for the intrusion.” The man with the blonde hair, pink lips and soft eyes said, gripping a notebook in one hand and a white coffee cup in the other has a soft yet stern voice that is a bit too loud for this morning. “I suppose Mr. Min didn’t tell you about me, did he?” Jimin shakes his head slowly. The blonde laughs a little before bowing once again. “I’m Kim Seokjin, your husbands P.A and now yours as well.” Jimin can’t help but widen his eyes in surprise. A P.A? Jimin says to himself. Do I even need one of those?
“Oh right.” Of course Yoongi has a P.A, he’s one of the richest C.E.O’s in all of Asia and ranked in Forbes ‘Thirty under thirty to watch out for,’ and if Jimin remembers correctly, he owns twelve major companies that expand all over the world. “Right. Sorry, I was just a little surprised, Seokjin-ssi.” Jimin utters promptly relaxing back into the pillows with a deep sigh.
“It’s no problem. Mr. Min says you have no classes today and that you shouldn’t be too busy since you’re settling in.” Seokjin says, opening the notebook before promptly closing it. “However, he would like to see you for lunch at two.” A lunch date. No, no, no. “Is there…a problem?” Yes, yes, yes.
“No, Seokjin-ssi. None at all. It’s – yeah, that’s fine. Totally.” Jimin mumbles. It would be easier if he actually doesn’t have all these butterflies in his stomach. “I’m just…I’m really nervous. I’ll never been married – hell, I haven’t even had a relationship lasting longer than a few months.” Jimin blurts out with pink tinting cheeks. “I just…I don’t know what to do, Seokjin-ssi. I feel stupid.” Seokjin smiles in sympathy before nodding.
“I understand, Mr. Min. Marriage is a big deal and I would probably be as nervous, however, Mr. Min is a very genuine and pleasant person. I know it doesn’t seem like it now but he is. I’ve worked with him for many years now and I can concluded that he’s an honest man.” With those words, Jimin still doesn’t feel any better. If anything, he wants to stay in this best for the rest of his life and hopefully maybe sleep for the rest of his life.
“Thank you, Seokjin-ssi.”
“It’s no problem, Mr. Min.”
“Please call me Jimin, not Mr. Min. I just…it feels a bit weird to hear that.” Jimin explains. “I mean, you only really need to when it’s us. It feels way too formal right now, I don’t even feel married.” Jimin falls backwards onto the bed. “It feels like a bit of a dream, Seokjin-ssi.”
“I would agree with you…Jimin.” Seokjin says his name softly, as if he’s testing the waters. Yeah, Jimin preferred his name to Mr. Min. “Anyhow, I’ll leave you to dress and I’ll call the chef over to make us breakfast. Please dress in something nice as well.” When Seokjin leaves the room, Jimin internally screams.
“None of this is real.” Jimin says to himself. “And when I wake up, I’ll be watching Taehyung sing to the cactuses.” He closes his eyes before reopening them to see the same white washed ceiling with the same expensive lights sitting comfortably in the middle. Right, Jimin thinks. I better get dressed.
(Jimin discovers just how nice the shower is.
He’d steps into the en suite to see a bath the size of a hot tub on side with a shower the other. A long mirror sits between the both: spotless and freshly wiped down. A part of him feels like a child on Christmas morning being surprised over and over.
Jimin will admit, he does stand under the ray of water for longer than necessary and ‘ooh’s and ‘awe’s at all the expensive shower gel, lotions and bath-bombs. He didn’t even know how to pronounce half of these brands and try all of them. By the time he’s finish, his skin is baby smooth and he smells like a flower shop.)
“How was your shower, Jimin-ah?” Seokjin watches how Jimin carefully slides into the chair, hanging his jumper on the back and smiles earnestly at Seokjin before taking a look out of the window, something he hadn’t done properly and he could see just how beautiful Seoul looked at this time in the morning.
“I didn’t realise how much I missed having an actual working shower that doesn’t have a faulty head and doesn’t spurt out cold water either.” Jimin chuckles. “I don’t think I’ll miss the university showers at all.” Seokjin smiles and then watches how the chef places two plates of scrambled eggs, salmon and toast in front of them. “Wow, this looks so good. I didn’t even realise how hungry I was.”
“It does look good. Really, really good.” Seokjin says but his eyes aren’t looking at the food, they linger at the tall chef walks swiftly back to the kitchen who looks over his shoulder and Jimin is sure that the chefs cheeks flare to a soft red colour that goes all the way to the tip of his ears. Jimin pretends not to notice it however when Seokjin’s eyes move back to Jimin across the table, he’s grinning at the older and trying to stifle a laugh when Seokjin realises what Jimins implying. The older simply coughs loudly before thanking the chef quietly and digging into the food. Jimin joins in and moans in delight. This beats leftover pizza, he thinks to himself, eyeing the beautiful view of Seoul.
. . .
“This place is nice.” Jimin comments as they sit in one of the most luxurious restaurants in Seoul later that afternoon, right by the window on the second floor. The interior is red and black; the wine older than his mother and father combined and costed more than a small apartment; soft classical music plays in the background. The table is simple but had a lit candle in the middle where Yoongi sits opposite the younger with small, clipped smile on his lips as he eyes up the menu. “I, er, don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”
“I come here regularly when I have overseas clients. Most of them usually don’t like Western food but they always seem to rant and rave about places like this.” Yoongi responds before adding: “I’m glad you like it here as well, Jimin.” Yoongi fits in this place, unlike Jimin. His husband wears something casual: a dress shirt slightly unbuttoned at the top that was a dark colour while Jimin profusely sweats through a ten thousand won muted colour shirt he’d successfully stolen of Taehyung when his parents came into town and invited him out for dinner.
“I can see why. It’s super fancy.” Jimin hums, eyes widening at the colourful gems embodied into gold cutlery. “Jesus Christ, is this real?” Yoongi cracks a full smile: it slides across those pale lips so easily. Jimin can’t help feel but feel embarrassed, even when he lived with his parents he always got out from going to stuffy restaurants – where the portions are the sizes of a handful of coins but costs as much as a small car – like this. From the looks of it, Yoongi knew how to handle himself.
“I just wanted to make a point of saying I know this is arranged but…” Yoongi reaches out and takes Jimins hand. His fingers are pale and long but soft and the gesture makes Jimins stomach flip and his eyes widen even more when he finds himself locking their fingers together almost automatically and actually enjoying the warmth that Yoongi had to offer. “I know it doesn’t seem so, but I will take care of you. I know that this is…it isn’t what you wanted but, I’m glad that it’s you okay?” Yoongi explains and Jimin feels bashful. Really bashful, and slightly giddy.
“Yeah that’s – I’m glad too, Yoongi.” Jimin says and it feels like a dream. So surreal. Maybe Jimin is going to wake up any minute now and be in his tiny dorm room where the walls are covered in posters, unknown stains and paint. He’d roll over and see Taehyung do something…quirky, like trying to fit a dozen marshmallows into his mouth or harbouring a stray kitten.
“Order what you want, I honestly don’t mind.” Yoongi snaps Jimin out of his thought with his shoe nudging Jimins sneaker. He quickly picks up the menu and flicks it open and almost faints from the prices. “Everything here’s good, I promise.” Yoongi says in a warm tone. Maybe this can work, Jimin thinks and orders the steak for lunch.