Archive of Our Own

“The fever is too high,” Yoongi hears Jimin’s gentle murmur as the thermometer slides out of his mouth. He jolts slightly when a cold hand presses itself over his forehead. “We need to go to the doctor—”

“I’m fine,” he croaks, uselessly trying to pull away from the touch, from the scent. It feels too kind.

Kinder than he deserves.

His entire body shudders at the loss of it, pathetically yearning for comfort and warmth, the tantalizing scent of damask rose and—

A pair of arms wrapped around him so tight, he’d die.

Jimin wasn’t supposed to be home today. No one was.

Jin and Hobi are away all weekend, visiting family and busy with the preparations for their baby and the wedding; Tae and Namjoon are having their exhibit at the museum until late, Jungkook is spending the night at a friend's house to finish an assignment for school.

And Jimin… Jimin should be at his girlfriend’s, because it’s the weekend and it’s where he’s been spending it for the last three months or so.

Yoongi tries to not let his lips wobble when he rasps a small — “Jimin, I don’t—”

“Shhhhh.” He gets gently cut halfway, “You need to rest. But if you don’t get better, we’re going to the hospital.”

Yoongi doesn’t understand. Maybe he’s too sick to understand anything — maybe he’s delirious. It’s been known to happen. Maybe he’s alone at home, boiling from the inside out in his bed, letting regret and self-loathing fester all over as he wishes so badly someone would be there to take care of him, he’s now fantasizing about it.

The dead giveaway is Jimin.

Jimin wouldn’t be here with him.

Jimin hates him.

A tear escapes down his temple, even through his closed eyelids. That’s right, Jimin hates him, doesn’t he? Who wouldn’t?

“Does it hurt?” He asks, so softly, it makes a sob catch in Yoongi’s throat. “Yoongi, talk to me—”

It rolls so sweetly on Jimin’s tongue.

Yoongi, he says, all smothered in sugar.

Yoongi, all kind and soft, even after what Yoongi did.

Yoongi.

Yoongi ~

He hadn’t heard Jimin say his name like that ever since—

No.

The effort to open his eyes is almost not worth the pain and Yoongi is relieved at the gentle darkness that greets his irises when he finally manages it.

The curtains are closed all the way, his night light is on, casting that comfortable silver hue over the surfaces. Jimin is sitting on the edge of the bed, dark hair a mess on top of his head, face all flushed, eyes drenched in worry, as if—

What time is it?

“I-I’m fine.” It’s barely a croak. “Y-You don’t have to… to b-be…”

“Yoongi, I found you passed out on the bathroom floor. God knows how long you've been there.” Jimin says, exasperated now, “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go get someone else, but you’re not fine.”

Another tear escapes and Yoongi feels like he could turn inside out.

“I’m so—rry, I-I’m—I’m sorry—” he wails, curling tight around one of his pillows.

Maybe it’s a good thing he can’t see the pure anguish written all over Jimin’s face right now.

He wouldn’t believe it was real anyway.

Jimin… wouldn’t be worried about him like this. Not anymore.

Yoongi is broken and he’s made sure once and for all he wouldn’t put a crack into anyone’s life.

But ever since he pushed Jimin away for good, his heats have gotten so, so much worse. If he can even call this a heat.

A heat is a difficult time, surely, but it’s the body’s way of preparing to receive and accommodate a baby. The omega is softer, more vulnerable, more sensitive, enticing… they need to be held and cherished and loved and… and mated until their body is satisfied.

Yoongi’s heat, on the other hand, just feels like punishment. His body hates him for how useless he is and it probably thinks that cooking him from the inside out while he writhes in the need to be held is the quickest way to end it for good.

But it wasn’t this bad before.

How many heats has he gone through at this point in life? They were hard and painful and he’d much rather do without, but he’s always come out of them in one piece every time. No one had ever noticed his omega wasn’t working the way it should.

After he and Jimin had… well… Yoongi isn’t so sure a part of him isn’t missing every time it ends.

It’s been enough time for one of these trips through hell and right now he isn’t sure he can do it again.

Maybe this is punishment for what he did to Jimin.

Sobbing into his pillow, Yoongi promises himself he’s never going to do it again. He’ll stay by himself, alone, the way things should be. He’ll never try to have more than he deserves, he promises.

“Y-You don’t n-need—I-I’m not—N-No nee-ed… t-to take c-care—You d-don’t—”

“Oh, I don’t need to?” Yoongi wants to say he hears Jimin snort, but it sounds too broken to be that. “You’re here sick and all alone and I’m supposed to just say ‘tough luck’ and leave you by yourself? I’m not supposed to care about you anymore?”

He sounds angry, right at the end. It goes away just as fast as it came, but it’s enough to make Yoongi curl even more because he doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t mean to make Jimin mad at him. He whimpers, scared and sad and broken, pillow balled into his fists.

Alphas don’t… get mad when omegas are in heat, right?

Maybe with Yoongi is different. Maybe an alpha would get mad at him, after all.

“N-No, ‘m—I’m sorry—” he cries, curling the smallest size he can. It's getting bad. He never had an alpha near him during his heat before; his body is yearning out of his skin. So he curls, even smaller, just in case his limbs try and reach out for Jimin in a plea for comfort. Yoongi can't have it. He's not worth it.

He can’t see the way Jimin immediately regrets it, a blanket of pure guilt over his face.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—” he apologizes right away, “Fuck, Yoongi, what—what is happening to you, what do you have?”

But Yoongi can’t hear it. He can’t have Jimin hating him even more. “‘msorry’msorry’msorry…” he slurs, barely registering anything.

He doesn’t see Jimin wipe out his phone and frantically search through the contacts, before pressing it against his ear, eyes trained on Yoongi’s shaky form.

“Hello?” He pants, “Jin-hyung, I—I’m sorry t-to be calling on your trip, but I—T-There’s something really wrong with Yoongi right now.” There’s a pause. “I-I don’t know, I… I came back from class and he was—he was passed out on the bathroom floor and… and he’s burning up, he’s crying, I don’t think he’s thinking straight either, he’s hurting, I—” Jimin cuts off and takes a deep breath. “He’s what? N-No, it doesn’t look like he is…? Well… well, yes…” Jimin doesn’t notice what he’s doing, distracted by the call, but Yoongi feels it. A gentle hand wrapped around his bare thigh, thumb softly stroking the skin.

The tight rope strangling Yoongi’s heart gets just a bit looser, almost imperceptibly so, but it’s enough to make his breath catch.

Yoongi lifts his heavy eyes to see him staring at the sheets, brows furrowed as he listens to Seokjin speak on the other side of the line. He keeps stroking and, the more he does, the easier it feels for Yoongi to breathe.

Is Jimin not mad at him anymore? Should he keep apologizing? Maybe Jimin won’t hate him so much if he does.

“Listen, I know what that looks like and it’s not this, he’s… He’s in pain.” Jimin argues, licking his lips and turning his eyes back to Yoongi’s face. “He doesn’t even want me here. I-I don’t know.”

Yoongi’s heart squeezes at that. What is Jimin even saying?

“No, no. It’s fine. Are… are you sure it’s really…? No. I can do it.” The last part comes out firmly. “Yes. Yeah, I know how to handle that. Ok. Thank you so much, hyung. I’m sorry I called so late…No. It'll be fine, don't worry about that. I'm not. I… I just…” Jimin glances at him, and, if Yoongi could truly process it, he would notice how heartbroken he is. “If he lets me do it, then it's okay.”

Jimin hangs up and when he does, his eyes focus back and they’re… warm like Yoongi hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Hey,” he murmurs, thumb still stroking. “Hey baby, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I wasn’t angry at you.”

The words alone make Yoongi’s breath stutter in his throat. Jimin is watching him intently now, eyes trained to his every move.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi croaks, more tears springing from his eyes, but Jimin immediately shakes his head.

“None of that, no need for that.” He soothes and it makes Yoongi feel a little less on edge. Jimin reaches out, but hesitates. “Are you okay with me being here?”

Yoongi's chin wobbles, “Y-You d-don’t have to…”

But Jimin just shakes his head. “That's not what I asked. Do you want me to go?”

Yoongi can't hold back all the tears that well in his eyes. Of course he doesn't want that. His voice comes out in the tiniest croak, all smothered in a needy lilt. “N-No…”

At that, Jimin’s hand starts reaching out again, until it cups around his cheek. 

It's cold and rough and so gentle, so soothing. Yoongi closes his eyes and sighs in pure relief, breathing in the scent of damask rose so close to him, even if the smallest voice on the back of his head keeps warning he's going to regret this to tears later on.

Again. 

Jimin, on the other hand, is astonished. His hand slowly slides down the side of Yoongi's neck and Yoongi's instant reaction is to offer it up in submission, pure instinct. 

“Jin-hyung said… you're supposed to be in heat this weekend, according to the schedule you told him.” he murmurs. “You are, aren't you? Even if—Even if you're not—” Yoongi jolts away from the touch, falls out of bed and curls himself between the dresser and the mattress. “Y-Yoongi!”

No, Jimin can't know that. How does he know that? No one can know that. Yoongi can't let him see him like this.

Wouldn't any alpha hate to be around an omega who doesn't even go into a real heat? Yoongi isn't going to beg Jimin to fuck him, he isn't dying to be knotted and bred. 

He's just hurting and sensitive and not thinking right, because his entire body wants Jimin to hold him and make everything go away and Yoongi would never even dream of asking for that. 

He buries his face into his knees and sobs, so hard his ribs complain. 

“I… I'm sorry…” Jimin is beyond upset at this point. “Yoongi,” he kneels on the floor, carefully, hesitantly, “I'm not—I’m not going to do anything, I didn't mean it like… I-I just. Please, let me help you, I'll do anything.” He begs, but Yoongi can barely hear it. 

He's broken, he's useless and now Jimin knows. 

Now that he's away from the touch, it hurts all over. Yoongi shakes head to toe, smothered in sobs and tears, as his body starts trying to turn him inside out again. 

And then—

“Shhhhhh.” Yoongi’s breath catches so hard, he chokes. He feels it, the tip of Jimin's nose pressed right on the top of his head. His body instantly relaxes at the scent, at the touch, almost against himself. “Yes, angel, yes. It's okay,” he murmurs into his hair, so softly, Yoongi shudders. His sobs spring here and there as the warmth spreads through his body, like a satin sheet sliding over his skin. Jimin presses a kiss on the crown of his head and the most pathetic whine makes it out of Yoongi's throat. “Yeah?” He kisses again and Yoongi all but melts into the pair of arms that wrap around him. “Is it hurting?” Yoongi nods jerkily, unable to speak through the hiccuping sobs. “I won't let it hurt anymore, okay? You're okay.”

Yoongi can't help it. Even as the tears keep sliding down his face, he curls his trembling fingers into Jimin's shirt until the fabric is balled into his fists.

“I'm sorry,” he mewls, burying his face into the crook of Jimin's neck. 

“I'm sorry too, baby. I'm so sorry I didn't… take care of you.” He wraps a hand around the back of Yoongi's neck and noses down his temple, a featherlight touch that makes Yoongi feel hugged by the clouds. 

“Y-You did,” he rasps. As weak as it sounds, as light-headed and incoherent as he is, Yoongi can't let Jimin step down that train of thought. 

Jimin doesn't answer with words. Yoongi isn't even sure that he heard him. He noses down Yoongi's cheek, lips brushing the skin until they reach just behind his ear and press there into another kiss, soft, tender and so warm it makes Yoongi boneless. 

Compared to before, the pain is almost all gone. 

The physical pain, at least. 

“I can draw you a bath, hm? Would you like that? Then we can get you some food, too. What do you think?” 

Yoongi wants to ask why, he wants to ask why does it matter or why Jimin cares, but. He doesn't want to make him angry again. 

“B-Bath is nice.”

“Yeah?” Jimin croons. “Then you wait here for me, I'll be right back.”

“N-No—” Yoongi panics just at the thought of him pulling away and curls his fingers tighter on his clothes. Then, he feels guilty. “I-I m-mean… I…” the tears come back as he realizes how selfish he's being. 

He broke up with Jimin, he hurt Jimin. And now he's using him—

“Oh, baby. Here,” Jimin takes his shirt off and wraps it around Yoongi's shoulders. “It's just a minute, okay? I'll be right back, I promise.”

Yoongi breathes in the scent and his face feels instantly hot, but he wraps it around himself all the same. 

The kiss Jimin puts on his forehead makes his stomach feel like it's catching on fire, but nothing is enough to stop more tears from sliding down. 

Why is Jimin doing all this? 

He has a girlfriend now, won't she be upset that… he's not with her and it's here with Yoongi instead? 

Won't Jimin be disappointed when he realizes Yoongi's heat is nothing more than—

He lets out a tiny whimper between his knees and curls the smallest he can, losing himself in a spiral of jumbly, incoherent thoughts. 

It doesn't make sense and Yoongi doesn't like it. Jimin is not supposed to… to be here. 

He hates Yoongi, he's not supposed to—

“All done, are you ready?” 

Yoongi jolts, tears falling down his face as he looks up to find Jimin kneeling in front of him again. 

“J-Jimin…”

“Come on, baby,” Jimin gently takes him into his arms and carries him to the bathroom. 

The light hurts his eyes and Yoongi burrows into his chest, reveling at how warm his bare skin feels. It makes him think of those nights they used to spend snuggled together, how Jimin would let him sleep on top of his chest and murmur all those sweet things that would make Yoongi blush and daydream of—

“The bath bomb is almost ready,” Jimin puts him down on the closed lid of the toilet and reaches out to swirl his hand into the water. Even then, his other hand is gently curled around one of Yoongi’s thighs. “Do you need help getting in?”

Yoongi swallows dry at that.

“Yes, p-please…”

Jimin seems endeared when he turns back to him. He’s smiling so fondly, all shirtless and perfect and smelling so divine and it breaks Yoongi’s heart into a million pieces at the memories it brings.

He tries to hold back any more tears when Jimin carefully cups his face to wipe under his eyes, but his they still well up.

“Can I have that one first?” He lightly tugs at his own shirt draped over Yoongi’s shoulders, “I’ll give you another one when we’re done.”

Blushing, Yoongi nods at his knees.

The first and only time he’d ever been undressed by someone else, it was Jimin that did it. The feeling is not remotely the same right now — there’s no heart-stuttering anticipation or the unbearable whirlwind of opposing feelings all fighting inside of him, not like they were so fiercely doing back then. But Yoongi still feels so safe and precious and cherished as the layers slide off him one by one.

Jimin has always made him feel so adored, like nothing else mattered.

And then Yoongi had turned and made him feel like he was the worst person in the entire world.

“There we go,” Jimin picks him up and gently lowers him into the water. It’s the perfect temperature and it smells like…

Yoongi’s chin wobbles.

It smells like him. Molassy caramel.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Five minutes.” Jimin says, looking straight into his eyes. Yoongi nods, not realizing how doe his own eyes look, as if somehow he’d been expecting Jimin to just leave him there.

He returns to find Yoongi staring at the wall, glassy-eyed, a battle inside his own head to stop the bad thoughts from taking over.

Jimin washes his hair, softly massaging his scalp, reaches the washing cloth for Yoongi to clean himself in the meantime, but stays perfectly silent otherwise.

“W-What time… what time is it?” Yoongi murmurs, just as Jimin finishes rinsing one last time.

“Almost midnight.” Jimin says softly, but it still makes Yoongi choke.

Oh no.

“I—I’m sorry—I-I didn’t m-mean to k-keep y-you so late—” he splashes around, trying to get out of the tub, but Jimin stops him before he can do something stupid and slip.

“Hey. Hey, what—what are you doing?”

“Y-Your girl—your girlfriend, she—y-you can’t l-leave her w-waiting all this time, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t know—” he stammers and, as upset as he is, he still notices how Jimin’s face morphs from confusion into…

Into what? Surprise? Pain? Yoongi can’t tell.

“Yoongi,” Jimin shakes his head. “We’re not… together anymore.”

“…What? B-But…”

“I broke up with her, last week,” Jimin explains gently. A dash of something passes through his eyes, but it’s gone before Yoongi can think about it. “It’s alright, you don’t have to worry.”

There’s something particularly uncomfortable in the way Jimin can’t look him in the eyes anymore. Obviously, they hadn’t ever talked about her before. To be fair, there wasn’t much talking going on after Yoongi had broken up with him.

Yoongi remembers how inconsolable he’d been when he found out Jimin had moved on, and then he’d been so angry at himself for it. Yoongi had no right to feel even a smidge of sadness, not when he’d broken Jimin’s heart in the first place.

But the thought of Jimin making someone else happy still broke him to pieces.

Oh, it’s guilt, he realizes. Jimin feels guilty that Yoongi even knows about her.

He had never brought her over, not even to meet Seokjin. Yoongi never heard him talk about it inside their den either. It was always the others whispering in the corners.

With a fresh bout of guilty tears, Yoongi realizes it was because of him.

“I’m, uhm. I’m sorry it didn’t… work out…” he croaks, trying to keep them at bay.

“It’s fine. I don’t think… Things would have worked out between us,” Jimin’s tone feels extremely detached, cold even. “It’s better this way.”

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say to that. “I… think I want to get out.”

Their short trip back to his bedroom is nothing but heavy silence. Jimin had changed the bed sheets and opened the curtains, letting the gentle moonlight bathe the room and the spring breeze flow through the fabric.

There’s underwear and one of Jimin’s shirts carefully arranged by the pillows as he sits Yoongi on the edge of the mattress and when Yoongi realizes, it’s almost as if now Jimin feels disconcerted he had put it there.

Yoongi grips the towel around himself, torn in all directions.

“I’m really sorry,” he manages to push out.

This time, Jimin sighs. “You keep saying that. I feel like you’re apologizing for even existing in front of me at this point.” To that, Yoongi’s lowers his head and Jimin seems to instantly regret it, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi repeats thickly, “I…”

“Yoongi,” Jimin kneels in front of him, hands on each side of him on the mattress. His eyes are open and… desperately sad. “You don’t have to keep doing that. You broke up with me and we both know why and… well, it’s not okay, but someday maybe it will. But that doesn’t mean I… I don’t care about you anymore. Even if you don’t believe it, I care. I… I wish I could have showed you I cared more,” his voice breaks at the end, but Yoongi has been crying long before that. “And it doesn’t make you this horrible person you think you are either. I… If I hadn’t—”

Yoongi can’t even make himself look up, he can barely keep his sobs in. “I didn’t break up w-with you because of that,” he slurs. “I didn’t…”

He feels more than sees the way Jimin’s hands curl into the sheets. “You don’t have to try and make me feel better about it. I should have treated you better.”

There’s pain smothered all over it.

“It wasn’t because of that,” Yoongi whimpers, “Y-You… I d-didn’t want… I… I didn’t w-want you t-to hate me, I didn’t want—” he stutters between sobs, floodgates open wide.

Yoongi had given himself to Jimin, like he hadn’t to anyone before… Yoongi had never felt so adored. And that’s why he had to break up with Jimin as soon as he could, before he could let that feeling settle in.

But maybe the morning after had already been too late.

Jimin had been the first to ever see him like that, and that was enough of a mistake already.

“Hate you?” Jimin sounds inconsolable. “Yoongi, there isn’t anything in this world you could do that would make me hate you, don’t you understand that?”

“Y-You’re t-the one who doesn’t u-understa-and—I’m not—I-I never—M-My—”

“I’m sorry I made you feel pushed to—pushed to do that, I should have realized when you told me you never… I should have waited, I should have noticed—”

“I was going to r-ruin your life!” Yoongi cries out, tearing through his throat. “I-I’m broken a-and worthless and y-you were w-wasting your time w-with me and w-when you f-found out—I didn’t w-want you to hate me, not you, not you…” he wails, curling both hands into his own hair.

He’d been ready to take this to the grave, but.

Yoongi would rather die than let Jimin think he hurt even a strand of hair on his head.

“Hey—Hey, shhhh, hey look at me,” Jimin reaches out to cup his face and Yoongi realizes he’s almost hyperventilating. “What are you even saying?” He asks, as softly as one possibly could. “Yoongi, you're… you're the best thing that ever happened to me in this place.” He murmurs now, uselessly trying to wipe the endless tears streaking down his face.

“N-No, stop it,” he begs, chest so tight, his heart could spill out his throat. “Please, stop it. You have no idea of what you’re saying,” Yoongi feels lightheaded. Maybe it’s all the crying. Maybe it’s Jimin’s scent.

“Then explain it to me. Tell me why you’re so bad for me.” The words are firm and cutting, but the murmur just floats in the air between them. Yoongi doesn’t need to look up to know Jimin is staring straight into his eyes. “Because no matter how much you keep repeating that, I can’t see it.”

This is Yoongi’s chance. If he lays it out right, Jimin will finally understand why he isn’t the right omega for him — or for anyone.

“Alright,” he croaks. “I’ll tell you.”

And they can both move on.

The seconds tick by as Yoongi tries to find the right words scribbled over his knees, but Jimin just patiently waits for him to talk. He reaches out for the shirt and underwear he’d so carefully brought and dresses Yoongi with it.

Yoongi can’t possibly process that on top of anything else, but he also can’t tell himself he doesn’t want it, not when his body relaxes down to the last strand of hair on his head as the scent rivulets up his nose, strong and warm and perfect.

To all of that, all he can do is let the tears roll down his cheeks.

“I… I always k-knew something was wrong with me,” he starts wetly, wringing his fingers over his knees, “B-But it wasn’t u-until after I m-moved here for college t-that I found out w-what it was.” As the omegas talked about their heats and how they spent it with their partners, how they felt and what they craved, Yoongi realized his heats were very, very wrong. 

“Yoongi, please, there’s nothing–”

“L-Listen to me!” Yoongi pleads with a sob, before looking up to catch Jimin’s eyes, “Please, listen.”

Jimin sighs, as if somehow Yoongi is telling him something absurd. His hands are back on both of his thighs now, a habit the alpha acquired a bit too fast for the brief time they were together, it seems.

Being comforted like this when he’s about to ruin everything they had — again — makes Yoongi want to throw up.

“T-There’s a reason you didn’t realize I-I was in heat u-until Jin-hyung t-told you. I… I-I can’t really have a heat. N-Not the way I’m supposed to.” He feels his chin tremble and closes his eyes, anything to help him power through the last stretch. 

Jimin frowns. “What do you mean?” His voice is soft and kind and warm and Yoongi deserves none of that. 

“It means t-that I’m never g-going to be able to spend m-my heat with anyone,” Yoongi stammers, not daring to look up this time, “A-And since I… I don’t really have a heat, I… I c-can’t have children e-either,” his voice breaks on the last few words, his breath catches just as Jimin whispers his name. “A-And since I can’t… do any of that… I-I… I’m n-not going to m-mate anyone—”

“Yoongi… I…”

“S-Something inside o-of me is missing a-and I… I’m n-never going t-to be able to fix it a-and w-when—and when I-I realized w-what I was doing, I couldn’t—I couldn’t—” a sob cuts through his words, “I couldn’t d-do that to you—N-No one d-deserves s-something broken like this and I—I’m s-sorry I-I let it g-go on so long, I-I shouldn’t h-have—”

It’s too much, it’s too much. Yoongi knows the ‘heat’ isn’t helping the frailty of his emotional state, but he hadn’t been much different on the day he pushed Jimin away. Much like it does now, it had felt like he was bleeding from the inside out. 

He let Jimin get close, he let himself dream, he let it get out of control and he hurt the only person in the entire world who had made him feel like he could be whole.

“Y-You didn’t do a-anything wrong, y-you never did,” he cries to his knees, not bothering to contain the tears, “I… I don’t k-know w-why you think y-you hurt me, but I. W-When… that night i-it was the first t-time I f-felt like I c-could be loved—” he sobs, “A-And t-then I realized how stupid that was and I had—I had t-to stop it right t-there…”

“So you just hurt yourself before I could do it?”

At that, Yoongi’s breath stops. Jimin’s shattered tone takes all the air out of his lungs, the words make him dizzy. There’s nothing but a blurry mess in front of his eyes when he slurs — “I didn’t want you to hate me—I… D-Do you understand n-now w-why we can’t b-be together…?”

“I don’t.”

Yoongi snaps his head up before he can think. And he regrets it instantly. The tear tracks on Jimin’s face cut on him like knives, the broken look in his eyes make Yoongi feel like he shouldn’t even exist.

He hurt Jimin. He knew he would and even then—

“W-What?” He croaks, just now processing the words he heard.

“I don’t understand.” Jimin repeats gently. “I understand you decided things on your own. And you decided my feelings for me and you decided the future all by yourself and somehow it all means we can’t be with each other. But I still don’t understand why we can’t. If it’s because you don’t want me… or because you think I don’t. Either way,” Jimin starts stroking one of his thighs again, “I can tell you right now one of those is very wrong.”

“What don’t you understand?” Yoongi buries his face in his hands, fighting Jimin’s words with all the strength he has left, “I can’t give you a-anything, I can’t make you happy, I can’t—Please don’t do this to me, please…”

“Do what, Yoongi?” Jimin croaks. “Love you? Keep having feelings for you even after I try to move on? Not caring about the things you can’t give me because I still want everything you can? I can’t do that anymore?” He pleads and it only makes Yoongi cry harder. “If you don’t want me, then I’ll go away—”

Yoongi reaches out to curl his hands around Jimin’s shoulders on pure reflex, his entire body lurching forward to keep him from leaving and that’s all Jimin needs to lean in and press their lips together.

It’s salty and painful and smothered in anguish and so terribly sweet, Yoongi feels like he’s made of brittle sugar — sweet enough that he could melt under his own tears.

There’s a sort of keening spiraling inside of him, something that makes him feel boneless and vulnerable and so terrifyingly needy, he almost pushes Jimin away.

But he doesn’t want to.

He wants Jimin’s arms curling around him like they are now, he wants him to take over when his body melts into his touch and loses its footing, he wants Jimin to tip them both into the sheets without ever letting go, he wants to be kissed until he barely remembers his name.

He wants to keep this dream going for as long as he can.

But Jimin breaks the kiss at last, breathless and starry eyed like he’d been on that last night, so helplessly in love, it had made Yoongi regret his entire life.

But now…

“I can stay if you want.” He breathes between their lips, just a lilt of fear behind his voice.

“I always wanted you to stay,” Yoongi murmurs and the galaxy he can’t fully see behind Jimin’s eyes is probably shining in his, “But I… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he croaks and more tears slide down his temples.

Jimin kisses them all away, as soft as the clouds.

“The only thing that hurts me is being away from you,” he whispers and then chuckles at how corny it sounds. “…Is living with the fact that I didn’t take care of you the way I should or… thinking you’d hate me for it.”

Yoongi shakes his head against the sheets and their nose tips brush into each other. “That never happened,” he murmurs, all heavy with tears.

“You say you don’t have a heat…” Jimin starts, gently brushing his lips on his cheek, a smile stretching when Yoongi melts under him, “But that’s not true, is it? You still want an alpha to take care of you right now.”

Yoongi feels his face flush red hot.

“I…”

“You feel so soft… and you smell so sweet, sweeter than you already do…” Jimin mouths the words into his skin, straight down the column of his neck and Yoongi mewls in pure contentment. “You’re telling me I can’t stay with you during all this?”

“I… W-Won’t you be upset t-that I d-don’t want—”

At that, Jimin pulls back to look into his eyes. “Of course not, baby. All I want is to take care of you however you need.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi has to ask, even if it makes him feel terrifyingly vulnerable as he looks into Jimin’s eyes. “I don’t want you to regret—”

“I’m never going to regret this,” he smiles, so warm and sincere, it makes more tears slide down. “I want you just the way you are. I always did.”

Maybe Jimin is not really understanding the implications of that. He can’t be. 

“But… But don’t you want… What Jin and Hobi have right now? O-One day…”

Jimin stares, long and warmly into his eyes for what feels like years. Then, a smile, bright as the stars stretches on his face. “Do you think about us being together like that?”

“I…” Only as it settles into the spread of a hot flush, does Yoongi realize what he just said. “W-Well, I… I mean…”

“Yes?” Jimin teases, but it’s not malicious. It’s bursting through the seams with happiness and uncontained fondness. 

Seokjin and Hoseok, they… They’ve been together for ages. They started this pack. They have a baby on the way, they’re getting married and mated and—

The time Yoongi and Jimin were together before Yoongi ruined everything was so short. Was it a month? Two? Probably not even that. Yoongi would be lying if he said he didn’t love Jimin long before that, even if he’d rather die than admit it back then. The kind of happiness he could have with Jimin just wasn’t for him. Until it was.

And now…

“I… d-don’t really like thinking about it like that,” Yoongi admits, eyes trying to hide from the loving gaze Jimin has on him at all times. “I can’t give you any of that.”

Jimin pulls away, sitting on the mattress. “Come here,” he calls softly, before Yoongi can think the wrong thing. 

They lie side by side, face to face, head on the pillows. Suddenly, Yoongi realizes Jimin’s scent is going to be all over his bed.

Like it used to, before.

“Right now,” he starts, stroking Yoongi’s cheek with the back of his fingers, “The most important thing to me is making sure you’re cared for during your heat. As your alpha, I get that privilege.” The breath catches in Yoongi’s throat, but he can’t say anything, not with the way a knot lodges in there and his eyes well up. His hands are already curled against Jimin’s chest and his heart feels like it’s taken a leap through the open window a long time ago. Yet somehow Yoongi can feel it wailing and throwing itself against his ribcage. 

That tiny, soft, bruised heart.

Yoongi had hurt it all his life. 

“M-My alpha?” He manages to croak, but not before the tears make it down the pillowcase pressed against his face.

“Well, I hope so,” Jimin smiles. “Right now you need love and attention and hopefully some much needed scenting,” he teases again, “And that’s all that matters to me today. But when it all ends and you tell me there’s things you also want for us, in the future… we can make them happen. However possible.”

“Things I want?” Yoongi feels confused. “I–I don’t—”

But Jimin just puts a kiss on his forehead. It’s sad and sweet and full of love. “Yes, you do. With me, you do.”

Yoongi doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but the tears still escape as the words expand inside his chest. 

Does he deserve all this? Is Jimin really sure?

“Scent me?” He mewls wetly and, before a sob can make it out of his lips, Jimin captures them in a kiss as soft as the clouds. 

He makes a trail down Yoongi’s neck with kisses, stroking his lips on the skin until Yoongi shudders and melts under the touch.

“Missed this so bad,” Jimin murmurs hotly into the dip between his collarbones, before pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss just where his shirt blocks any more contact with Yoongi’s skin. “Is this okay?”

Yoongi lets out a soft, needy purr and it’s all Jimin needs to make a trail of damask rose up the other side of his neck. The fever hasn’t gone anywhere, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. As Jimin pulls him tightly against his body and lets his hands find their way under his clothes, marking a path of careful, hot reassurance, Yoongi could boil from the inside out and he’d die happily for it. 

“I love you,” he feels the words bloom into his skin along with the scent and he has no other urge but to drizzle it with his own sweet molasse.

“I love you too…”

Yoongi certainly has a lot to work through, he has a lot of self-hatred to shed. His heart is still wringing its hands in fear of being hurt, still thinking that everything Yoongi can give could never be enough.

But as the heat makes him lightheaded with Jimin’s scent all over his skin and the warmth makes his body want to be held, smothered in sweet love, Yoongi can’t bring himself to keep thinking those things.

And as if Jimin can read his mind, he whispers. “We can talk about it when your heat is over. Talk about everything. You can tell me what’s going on and we can try and make it all work, hm? We can focus on taking care of you.”

“Hm,” Yoongi nods, not able to say anything else without crying.

He’s still feverish, his body is still angry because so much is missing. But held tight in Jimin’s arms, back to chest as the alpha whispers sweet loving things behind his ear, Yoongi can barely feel the hole inside him.

Will Jimin still be here tomorrow? Yoongi is almost too scared to close his eyes.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me,” Jimin whispers, again, reading straight from his thoughts.

And Yoongi desperately wonders if he could ask him to stay forever.

Jimin holds him tighter.